danodonthegay: You're so very welcome. I'm so glad that something I wrote was able to stay with you in a positive way all this time. Here's hoping that the next phase (for both of us!) is one of the better ones. :)
Hemo-Wonder: I'm so glad that I did too. I think I'll always come back and write about it whenever something important happens. I hadn't expected the response that I would get this time, I mean you'd think that an entire seven years later any kind of author would probably lose their audience, let alone an amateur one like me, but I hadn't lost you guys and that was so special. Wishing you love and health right back :)
Miara848: Oh my goodness… you know… I remember lots of things about you, like I remember when your grandmother passed away, and when you went through a really nasty breakup, and also that you have (and hopefully fingers crossed still have?) a cat that you really love. But that you struggled with mental health is something that I didn't know, and completely breaks my heart to hear. In the time in between when I finished writing and now, I thought of you so much and always hoped that that kind of pain would never touch your beautiful soul. I wish that I had been there for you… if you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here… you aren't alone.
I don't feel like there is a single bad bone in your entire body, but if being reborn or rebuilt helped take away the pain then I'm all for that. I've had so many conversations with Santana that are so similar to that, we often say that we can see the person she was at 12 (before any of the bad stuff happened) in her again, like going back to the start, only better.
It went from her feeling like it was just a faraway glimpse of that person, to later on (recently) having a real sense of rebirth, which I'll tell you all about in the next chapter.
I can't wait for our next phone call so I can tell her the lovely things you said about her. I also have to tell her that you're applying to get your master's so that we can cross all of our fingers and toes for you that you get in, I'm so proud of you for that. Master's degrees are so not for the faint hearted, but you got this. They better accept you in or there will be a stampede. Can you imagine those little offices where they review those kinds of applications being packed wall to wall with unicorns? That sure would be a sight.
If you don't mind telling me (and it's totally okay if it is private) what are you studying?
And thank you so much for supporting Shaylen and I that really means so much to me. You're absolutely right about family being the most important thing, like we both feel like we've been through so much together that we're unshakable, and everything else, all the little stuff is just kind of trivial.
I'd call Santana's reaction to all my unicorns still an ongoing one, because I told her the basics last July, but in every conversation we've had since I think of something else to say, like something new will apply to the current situation or something else is like déjà vu. Like I know that next time she brings up her miscarriage I think it will help a lot that I can now say that the grief was felt by many, and that you feel like she has a guardian angel. She'll really like that. I'm not even sure she told her mom that happened.
I'm so glad you're here, I didn't want to start the next chapter without you.
*the biggest unicorn strength hugs EVER from both me and San*
Valiente21: Hey Val! You're exactly right, I feel like I was so lucky to get closure, and you're so right it's the kind that comes with a new beginning which is rare. I feel like normally 'closure' means that you find out what really happened, and then close the book. But in this case, it was a completely different kind that where I found out what really happened, but it only led to more chapters. Your comment definitely helped, because while I could see I had a story to tell, I needed a bit of a reminder that people would still listen, and you really helped me with that. I hope that this next one is okay, it's very heavy but it is very much the truth.
LiveItUp25: Gosh, your lovely message made me cry in the best way. I've been wondering if I could ask you what chapter it was that you needed an answer to? Hopefully that answer was there in my notes somewhere? I really hope it was.
I feel so glad that you feel like I try to look at things from other people's perspectives, because once upon a time I couldn't do that, and I really felt like I needed to change and learn how. Writing the story was a big part of practicing it, I guess? Good on you for having that ability too.
That's such an interesting way to view Chapter 26, like as a comparison between fantasy and real life. Sometimes I'm embarrassed by that chapter, but it has its place in a 'what I thought might happened, versus what actually happened' way, I guess.
It definitely wasn't fair that I had more people wanting to protect me than she did during that time… luckily she had Axel, but unfortunately she was otherwise very isolated, but we both feel like that's why what happened here is so special - we feel like all the good thoughts and karma sent her way (even when she was unaware of it) had an effect and protected her.
Oh! As of me writing this, we are yet to watch an episode of Glee together, would you mind recommending one that you think might be a good first introduction? Next time I visit I might put it on and see what she thinks. I meant to do something like that last time I visited but there wasn't time.
Ps. What you wrote was perfect, I had no idea you were dyslexic but even if it had got jumbled I would have had no trouble, my friend "Kurt" from the story is also dyslexic and I always understood his writing.
P.P.S I wish I could give you a hug too! And you were by no means rude at all, thank you so much for each and every kind word, it was so beautiful of you to wish me luck with the medication and getting my library job. :)
ChaosRocket: You thought exactly right :) It's so cool that you remembered my promise. I really hope you liked the chapter.
broken-timemachine: Hello friend :) I know I sent you a message but still giving you a shout out here as well. Hopefully the last message I sent you actually sent, I've heard that there are SO many problems with the site eating messages at the moment. I'm so glad that you liked the update, it really does feel like we're back in time, right?!
LeighKelly: Oh, I'm so happy to see you back! Once you called me brave, and I've always kept that, and your kind words close to my heart. You deserve nothing but the best too, hope you're doing really well :)
Siwon666: That's so lovely of you, I really needed to hear that. You know "Santana" also has relatively small limbs too, I bet that like her, you give the best hugs. Bali sounds so amazing, we can dream!
sethifehr: I remember you! I'm so glad to see you back. I hope you are doing well too, thank you so much for being here.
acewritergirl: OMG. This might sound a little strange, but I feel like I know you. From back in the day. Yet, I've never seen your name before, but maybe names can be changed here?
I'm probably confusing you with my nonsense, but there was this unicorn who was an epic supporter of me, she was also a talented writer, and I've been really wanting to tell her something. Her name then was hlnwst. This isn't by any chance you is it? Though sending you my love no matter what, thank you for telling people about me and for your beautiful comments. :)
Catmig: Thank you so much, I really hope that you enjoyed the chapter :)
natalya3721: I remember you from back in the day! It's amazing how many people are coming back here. I'm so glad you enjoyed the chapter, thank you for coming back.
Guest: I'm still surprised I'm back too, but I'm so glad I made your week 😊
Namelessmind: It means so much that you thought of me. I'm glad you liked that quote, I told that one to Santana and she said "I definitely like to think that I've found earth." Sending you love too, thank you for being here, and for welcoming me back.
buffyfan1992: Thank you so much for being here, Santana and I love Buffy too :)
Proudlyso416: That makes me smile so much :)
Before I begin this chapter, I need to explain something very important. The person who I based "Puck" on in this story (I'll refer to him here as "J") was not a student at our school. He was in fact 28 years old when we met him, and he started hanging around us when we were 15. He was our friend's older brother, so he had plenty of access to us from the start. It was always his intention to make himself appear younger than his actual age which he did masterfully, to the point where I would often forget that he wasn't a teenager like us. At the time, for the most part we did not see anything wrong with this which goes to show just how young (and naive) we were at the time.
I based him on the "Puck" character, because for one he was a dead ringer for Mark Salling and had the exact same vibe (or colors as I like to say) if that makes sense. Mark Salling was also a lot older than a teen when he played the character. I never tried to work a 'Puck isn't really a student' storyline into the story because to me that seemed irrelevant at the time 'because he was the same as us anyway', which also just goes to show JUST how well he conditioned all of us. I really just didn't see, or understand the difference between him and the other kids at our school at the time, and I think that the story very much reads that way, up til now. I didn't think it was important that he was older, but it was... it was very important.
It's not my place to comment on Mark Salling's life or activities, and I'm certainly not condemning him to the same crimes as "J" - however when I saw that he had been charged for child pornography it did not surprise me, because of how strongly he reminded me of "J."
This chapter comes with a *strong trigger warning: it will at times contain graphic descriptions of sexual abuse. My intention by writing this true account of what happened in our lives is to give support to those (and their loved ones) who have experienced sexual violence. I believe that the more we talk about this (and the more educated we are about how easily this can happen) the more power we have to lessen the likelihood of this happening again, as unfortunately it has happened over and over throughout history. If by writing this I can help even one person, then nothing would make me (and "Santana") happier. Remember that there may be someone in your life who could be fighting a battle that you can't see.
If you are being sexually abused right now, please know that we are sending you our love, and you CAN get out, and it can get better. I know it feels impossible, but you can recover yourself, and your life. The following chapters will show you just one way one person is rebuilding/has rebuilt her life. There are so many more roads that you could take that will lead you through to a far better place that you're in right now. You've got this.
If you guys can make it through this chapter, the next one is about healing. It's not a 'Fantasia' situation where I have to make up a happy chapter happy to try and get us through, I actually genuinely really do have some positive news to share in the next one.
Chapter 29 - The Battle That I Didn't See
Brittany S. Pierce, Present
(Continued)
The second thing that I realized right away, was how little Santana actually remembered of her life. I figured it was as a result of everything that had happened to her. She couldn't remember so many of the things she loved, things that had always made her happy. She couldn't remember being at events that at the time had been a huge deal to her. She couldn't remember the funny stories that she had told me dozens of times over as children. She couldn't remember much of high school. It was like having holes in her brain.
I felt like it was up to me to tell her what happened, and to give her back her life somehow.
Last but not least, the third thing was that her eyes were no longer purple. Looking for proof that it even happened, I found my old diary from tenth grade. In my teenage scrawl there are pages upon pages devoted to my complete and utter bewilderment when her eyes suddenly went dark purple around the edges, almost black. I remember that in spite of how many times I pointed it out to people while angling her head gently in my hands so that the dark could reflect - nobody else but me could see it. Santana would just shrug her shoulders and say to whoever we were talking to: "She's always had one foot on a different plane of existence." They would accept that as just evidence of me 'being weird,' but I knew that she just meant that she understood that I could see stuff, that other people couldn't.
To be honest, after a while I got used to it and forgot her eyes were ever anything but that color. I stopped questioning 'why', but I shouldn't have. I really shouldn't have.
Here's my advice. Go with your gut feeling. Never be complacent, and never turn a blind eye to what could be happening. Look for the signs. Your sign might not be as obvious as mine was (well, obvious to me anyway) but it still counts. It matters, and so too do your instincts.
Brittany S. Pierce, July 2020
"Favorite movie?" Brittany asked, sitting on Santana's kitchen table swinging her legs. She was right behind Santana who was doing the washing up. The one drawback of the farmhouse was that the sink was tiny, and only one person could wash up at a time. Santana hated doing it, but Axel wouldn't let her get a dishwasher. He swore that nothing was ever cleaned properly that way.
"Um… I'm not sure," Santana faltered. Brittany was trying to jog Santana's memory with little stuff, like by remembering each other's favorite movies, hoping that this would knit together some of the 'holes' in her brain. Sometimes the answers were the same as before, and sometimes they were different. That was all okay. Brittany was just worried at the questions Santana couldn't answer at all, like sometimes she knew that she liked something, but she couldn't remember it, so in her head it was like she liked nothing.
"Breakfast at Tiffany's," Brittany announced.
"Oh, that's right." Santana slapped her forehead with soapy fingers. "Cat scene?" Brittany had only been here a couple of days, yet she had already seen dozens of photos of Audrey, Brittany's clear pride and joy; an elderly tabby cat that she had rescued from the streets.
"Cat scene," Brittany agreed. "And, yours used to be Fight Club."
"Yeah. I'd have to think if it still is, but it's probably still up there. My all-time favorite 'classic' is Rocky Horror."
"You made the most epic Magenta."
"I so did." She paused, and then smiled at Brittany indulgently. "Okay, favorite Disney movie? Go!"
"The Nightmare Before Christmas and Alice in Wonderland," they answered together.
"Jinx." Brittany leaned over and they linked pinkies. Santana's pinkie was all slippery so it was difficult, but they managed. This ritual had always been imperative in un-jinxing themselves. Without it, who knew what would happen?
"And don't forget you like Who Framed Roger Rabbit," Brittany reminded her.
"Very true." Santana felt like she kind of sucked at this game, but regardless of that, she was enjoying it. She knew her memory was sketchy at best, and she could barely remember some of her own favorites, let alone Brittany's. She felt bad about that, but Brittany didn't seem to mind.
"All-time favorite quote?" Brittany said. "I don't think I have one, but you do."
"I do?"
"Yes, you have several." Brittany rattled off several of her favorite catch phrases for her.
Santana stared at her open-mouthed. "You're right. I really do love those quotes. I know you feel like remembering everything can be a pain, but it's got to be better than barely there memories like me. I kind of live vicariously through your memory Britts, I have no idea how you still know all this stuff. It feels so right when you tell me what I like though, like I've found pieces of me again."
"Asperger's brain." Brittany smiled. Santana smiled back. She couldn't remember much, but she did remember when Brittany could not even say that out loud.
Brittany gasped, and Santana whipped back around, nearly dropping the spatula she was holding. She had tried hard this past week to teach Brittany how to cook and the lessons had been a raving success. Brittany had been exceptionally grateful. She really struggled with cooking, she tended to anxiously overdo everything resulting in 'charred remains' as her mother called it. Santana's instructions were totally in her language though. She had always known Britt-speak.
"Favorite musical?" Brittany said to her excitedly. "Apart from Rocky Horror."
Oh, is that all it is. Brittany and her musicals. She was still re-getting used to Brittany's over excited reactions again. "I don't know Britts, I'm sorry. I'm not sure I have one."
"You love Grease. And Oliver."
"Oh my god, yes. Wait, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang too. I used to watch that with my Abuela all the time. I'd forgotten." She smiled. Brittany really had a way of bringing her back to herself. For so long she had felt disconnected from herself to the point where it felt like she had forgotten (or second guessed) who she was and the things she loved the most. In a way, reconnecting with Brittany was helping her reconnect with herself. "How about you, Britt?"
Brittany rambled away, rattling off an entire very long list of musicals that she loved. Kurt had been the best partner and crime to watch old Judy Garland films with. She hoped that he was doing well living with his partner in England. He had moved there a long time ago, for love.
"… and don't forget Wicked, My Fair Lady and Meet me in St Louis."
"Oh my god, they don't count as favorites when you name them all," Santana laughed, after Brittany had listed what seemed like the fiftieth title.
"Favorite song?" Santana tried. She knew this one.
"Yours first." Brittany said. "It's got to still be Time of Your Life by Greenday right?"
"Hands down," Santana agreed. She had always refused to call it 'Good Riddance' ever since she was a child. "I also like Right Where it Belongs by Nine Inch Nails. That one probably saved my life at some point. And, Don't You Worry Child by Sweedish house Mafia."
"I still like Somewhere Over the Rainbow. I can still remember you singing that to me."
"I love that one too."
Brittany stood up and made a move to start drying a couple of items and put them away. She was learning fast which items went into each cupboard.
"Hey Britts," Santana said, as she came to stand beside her.
"Yeah?"
"Not exactly a 'favorites' question, but I'm just curious. How do you identify these days?"
"Is this a level of gayness thing? Because mine would be pretty high."
"Mine too," Santana laughed. "No, you know what I mean."
Brittany did know. But answering was slightly less simple. "Well, I feel like if Shaylen were a boy, I would still love her exactly the same. It's confusing though. There are letter acronyms for this right?"
"It really is confusing, and I guess I've just never been big on labels," Santana agreed. "At the moment though, I kind of see myself as asexual, just because I never really think about it unless it is required of me. I know that sounds weird for someone who was once top of the… what did you say it was?"
"The List," Brittany supplied. "That whole sexual ranking thing was huge stuff in high school. I still can't believe that at one point you had even convinced people that I'd made out with almost as many people as you. I could barely even touch people with my hands then," Brittany giggled.
"Yeah, they would believe anything, huh? Pretty sure I could have even convinced them that our counselor, that google-eyed woman…we were just talking about her…."
"Miss Pillsbury."
"Pretty sure I could have spread a rumor that she was having orgies and people would have believed it. But of course they were going to believe me about you, Britt, you've always been beautiful, it would make sense that everyone and their brother… and sister would want to make out with you."
"You're beautiful too, Santana."
The other girl shrugged by way of answer then changed the subject. "But yeah, I don't really have much in the way of physical attraction right now. I'm not big with fantasy. Recently there hasn't really been much that gets me going. The most consistent thing is probably pretty girls. It's very emotion-based for me… I still have sex, but I probably wouldn't bother if I wasn't in a relationship." She paused. "I don't really know what you'd call my sexuality, but I never, and even still, do not classify myself as attracted to men. Show me porn, I watch the girl, but I'd never even put it on for my own sake. As a gender, I have always been more physically attracted to women, but more than anything, it's the person, gender has minimal meaning for me."
"I completely accept you for whatever sexuality you are, Santana. And I can actually relate to a lot of what you've just said."
"Thanks, Britt." Santana handed Brittany a few more items to put away. "Boys have always been easier though, like we were always stigmatized for being a couple back in the day and that was hard, and on top of that, boys and men are so easy to manipulate. I felt like I always got a lot of mixed signals from women, and compared to that, boys and men were always so obvious about their desire."
"It can't have been easy dealing with the people talking behind our backs when we were younger. Or with my mixed signals. I mean, I wanted you to touch me, but my hypersensitivity made it so hard. I'd get overstimulated by every little thing. I didn't have words then, either. Or know how to do that male mating ritual dance. I loved you in my own way though."
"I know, and I understand that now. But don't think that it's all on you, I've also since realized that I was weirdly hyper-sexualized as a child."
"You were just copying your mom," Brittany told her, arranging the last of the silverware and shutting the last drawer gently. She hopped up onto the table, sitting at eye level with Santana who remained standing. Brittany couldn't remember ever seeing Santana sit on tables the way she always did. It was very much a Brittany thing.
Santana nodded, rolling her eyes. "Very true."
"You were a part of the adult world, practically before you could even walk." She knew that a typical night in Santana's early childhood had been playing betting games with her mother's friends and boyfriends until late, and then hearing them have sex through the walls after they thought she was asleep. Brittany's life with her own mother, a no-nonsense schoolteacher type, by both day and night, had been entirely different.
"I really thought that was the appropriate way to act," Santana sighed. "I realize now how intimidating and unfair I was at the time. It was no doubt driven by psychology, hormones, and a total lack of understanding on my part. I always wondered if I didn't have the psychological aspects at play whether I would have stayed more in sync with you."
She set her sights on reorganizing the items on the other side of the table. Cleaning had always been a way she had dealt with anxiety. Somewhere down the line Brittany had caught the same habit too.
Brittany caught the other girls arm as she walked past, and gave her an intense look. "Wait. I'm glad that you didn't stay in sync with me in that way though, Santana."
"What?" Santana was taken aback. She let Brittany pull her over with no resistance, as if she were a floppy ragdoll.
"Being hyper-sexual wasn't healthy for you, and it got you into trouble sometimes, yes…" Brittany told her. "But on the flipside, it was probably the best influence possible for me. I needed help, I needed fate to lay a hand to shake me out from being who I was. If you hadn't been mega-touchy with me and got me more used to it at a young age, I have no doubt that I wouldn't be able to do half the things I can do now."
Santana stared at her with misty eyes.
"Don't think that you harmed me, you helped me. I have always believed that." Brittany let that statement hang in the air for a time, as she fiddled with random objects on the table. Santana clearly hadn't thought of their time together like this in a long time, and over the years had arrived at almost the opposite conclusion.
There was a comfortable silence.
"I think I'd probably call myself gay, with exceptions" Santana said suddenly.
"Hmm, okay...well, I'm probably gay, with hypothesized exceptions" Brittany decided. "I feel like I would make an exception, but so far I haven't. Like, I've tried to, but it hasn't actually happened yet," she explained, thinking back to the days she dated Artie in high school. "And being in a relationship now I don't need to. But I guess that acronym is GwHE."
Santana suppressed a smile. The way Brittany put it amused her for some reason. "At least the world is in a better place with this since we were in high school. Gay couples can actually marry now, and it's all over the media."
"It's more than just Willow and Tara in Buffy," Brittany put in. And Timon and Pumbaa, she thought. She would always 'ship those two.
"Yes, exactly. People are more accepting now in general. Even my Abuela has now totally reformed after decades of not."
"Wow. How did that happen."
"It was after my Abuelo died," Santana said. "She decided that no person should ever not be able to be with the person that they love, because now she knew what that felt like."
Santana had really loved her Abuelo, Brittany thought. He had been the only father figure she ever had. It was really important to be open about who you loved.
Brittany rose from where she was sitting to grab a packet full of photos. "San, this is Shaylen."
She held up a picture of them together. She looked up unsure of what Santana's reaction would be. You can't blame me for not being sure of what to anticipate. This is the girl that had threatened any guy who looked my way that she would crack their nuts and feed it to them, she thought.
Santana only smiled. "She's beautiful," she said.
"She really is," Brittany said, relieved. She hoped that one day Shaylen and Santana could be friends, just like she was friends with Axel now.
Santana laughed. "I know what you're thinking. I know what I was like back then. But I didn't expect you to sit around and wait for me, that wouldn't have been fair. You had to do what is right for you." She paused. "I might need a hug though."
"That I can do," Brittany said. "Are you okay?"
"Yes I am. I think I'm just really thankful that you don't hate me. Over the years I wasn't sure if you did."
"That must have been hard," Brittany said.
"It was. I missed you a lot, Britt."
Brittany hated the thought of Santana missing her. "I missed you too. I always coped by lighting candles and listening to your songs and stuff when I missed you."
Santana stopped and thought it over, "I'm not sure I had any way of coping, but I just… had to cope, I guess. But I'm not always sure I managed that. It was like having scars that scabbed over, and I had to try not to pick at them and make them worse. So, they weren't bleeding, but they weren't really healed. I think that's because I was really missing you, and wasn't sure if you were ever coming back or if I'd ruined things forever. Now I know."
"Love is totally the best way to heal scars," Brittany said. She could relate. There were many times over the years that she hadn't coped that well either.
"Definitely. Time plays a part... but leaving a scar to heal in its own time is not necessarily the fastest or best way to heal something. It might get infected, or reopened, or just not heal neatly. But if you imagine that 'love' is like cleaning out the dirt, disinfecting it, and suturing it closed into a clean little line that you can barely see," Santana laughed. "You can so see the vet med leaking through, huh? But anyway, of course if you do it that way it will heal faster. I think most of my wounds started healing the day you started talking to me again."
The realization came to Brittany suddenly. "San, I do have a favorite quote. I just haven't told you yet."
It was something that had came to her after she had lost Santana. Although much of it was similar to what had been said before by many famous people, Brittany had still adapted the words and meaning into her own, and in a way that made the quote a tiny little bit hers.
"Oh yeah? What is it?"
Brittany smiled at her. "It's this." She pulled up a website on the computer and pointed.
'No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted, for everyone you will ever meet is fighting some kind of battle that you can't see'
"You're kidding me."
The next day they had sprawled out on Santana's enormous couch on their backs, still intent on exchanging as many memories of the past ten years as possible. They were now on the fourth day of their first-visit-in-ten-years, but it felt like they had been back in contact with each other for far longer. Brittany had just explained the entire saga of how she had written a story to cope after Santana left.
"You wrote a story about us, and people really read it? Wow. I mean, no shade to your writing ability. I've always thought you were a wonderful author."
"From all my childhood cat-related stories?"
"Well, I got a sense of your writing style over the years in a lot of ways. I read all your emails in the end, you know. I can kind of picture how you would have told a story about us. It's just... I didn't think my life was that interesting."
"You don't know the half of it. Are you mad? I took a lot of care to make sure that you were never identifiable."
"Thank you, Britt, and no, not at all. It's actually very flattering. But over three hundred thousand words? That is an enormous story. And obviously a good way for you to process what was happening. I'm really glad you had that outlet. It's just kind of weird to think there is a character in a story about me that people would actually be bothered to read. I think I kind of like it though. And I like that it made you feel like I was still with you."
"Someday, hopefully I'll get to read it to you."
"I'd really like that. I don't think we'll get through it all in an afternoon though."
"Yeah, it might take us an entire other visit. You know San, there's a lot of people who care about you out there, you may have never met them, but they still send you their good thoughts. I always figured that that much positive energy being sent your way could never hurt."
"No wonder my life turned around," Santana smiled. "I'm so glad that everyone just didn't think I was a bitch, or something. I feel like so many people in my real life wrote me off as just a bitch, especially back then. I'd never really felt like anyone but you heard my side, but... apparently hundreds of people did."
"It really was so important to me that I told your side, I tried really hard on that."
"I bet you did. I wish I'd been there while you were writing."
"It's okay, I'm just so glad that I get to tell you now. I thought I'd never get to tell you that I did this. I feel like over the years reading it helped a lot of people who were struggling to come out, or people who had developmental disorders like me, or mental health struggles like you. I still get messages to this day."
Santana's eyes widened, full of hope. "Wow. Oh Britt, I would love it if our story helped even one person out there somehow, wouldn't that be the most incredible thing? I'm really glad they could help you too. And I'm really glad that you told me about this."
Brittany stole a sideways peek at Santana, gauging her reaction. "You know, I've kind of been wanting to add something," she said hesitantly. "I feel like I need to find a way to say what happened next, and mostly to tell them that you're all right, now that I know that myself. I promised that I would write some kind of update if I ever saw you again. But I feel like this is so much more than just a paragraph in an endnote somewhere."
"This kind of feels like a new chapter, huh?" Santana said slowly. "That makes sense. I feel like that too. I'm sure that once you are in the mood and get started you will know exactly what to say."
"So, you're okay with me writing about now?"
"Definitely. I'm happy for you to update everyone as you see fit, Britt." Santana gave her a crooked smile, amused at her own rhyme.
They both stared at the ceiling for a moment, the TV was on, but neither girl was really aware nor interested in what was playing. Santana often put on the TV for background noise. When you live on a mountain, it could get a bit lonely.
Brittany's voice cut into the silence. "You know, as I was writing," she said unsure of how to put this, "I put some pieces together in my head, and I came up with this theory."
"A theory of what?"
Come on, Brittany. Out with it, she thought. The words tumbled out all in a rush. "That you have Bipolar disorder."
For better or worse she had always told Santana what she was thinking, even if saying something wasn't the typically 'nice' thing to say. Not everyone liked being told that they had a disorder, whether it was true or not. Brittany knew that all too well.
Santana's eyebrows shot up. "Britts, wow, you are entirely right."
Brittany looked equally surprised. "Really? I was so sure when I wrote the chapter about it, but afterwards I second guessed it like a million times."
"Truly. And by the timing, I think you figured it out well before I found out. Trust you to know me better than I know myself."
"Oh… I would have told you if I could."
"I know. I know you would have. But you were right," Santana said again, seemed a bit stunned and lost for words. "I've been diagnosed with bipolar, and PTSD starting from early high school."
"PTSD." Brittany said slowly. More memory vapors swirled around in her mind, each one seeming harder to grasp than the last.
Santana looked at her moment, clearly trying to decide something in her mind. She seemed to wrestle with the decision for moments before she finally spoke.
"Do you remember Tomas?"
"I do. I even wrote about him. I remember he forced you to do a lot of stuff that you weren't ready for. He was kind of 'the start of all the bad.' I know that he was your soon-to-be stepbrother then, and that he had hurt you."
"He did hurt me," Santana confirmed. "It was really hard at the time." She seemed to be weighing the words in her mind, unsure of how to further the conversation and explain.
Brittany's forehead creased as she thought about it too. "Back then though, it was more confusing because we couldn't talk as openly as we can now, it was all hushed whispers in empty classrooms and janitor's closets."
She paused, gathering her thoughts.
"I was no doubt a lot harder to talk to when we were younger, because I didn't understand what was going on at the time. It was only really when I started writing about it that I even began to start to get it. Writing out how I thought it must have happened from what you told me, made me understand it so much better."
Santana nodded, contemplating this. Talking to Brittany now, really was hands down an entirely different experience to talking to her in high school.
"It must be so weird seeing me now that I have words, because while we were together I never or at best rarely ever did. It was something that happened after you left."
"It isn't weird," Santana said, "but it still is completely unexpected and new to me. I could never have imagined that you would have grown up so much. You've found so many things for yourself that I have always wanted you to find. And even now, after ten years, I still feel like I can tell you things that I can't tell anyone else."
"What are best friends for?" Brittany smiled. "Do you feel like telling me more, about Tomas?"
"The first time anything happened, I think it was okay," Santana said. "We all went bowling as a new blended family, and afterwards he came into my room to see my PlayStation. I had never given anyone a blow job before, and I guess I was curious to see what it would be like. It was okay that first time. Maybe I wasn't ready for it, but it wasn't like I knew that at the time, so I didn't say no. It was all the times after that were bad. Eventually I lived in fear of Tom letting himself into my room at night. I would sit against the door all night so it couldn't open, and then when I felt the handle move, I would start to cry. He used to threaten that he would fuck up my mom's relationship with his dad and blame it all on me."
Brittany held her breath. "Did he ever rape you?"
Santana had always told her he hadn't, but it was always possible that she'd been too afraid to say anything at the time.
"No. to the best of my memory I don't think so."
Brittany exhaled a sigh of relief. "I remember he tried though."
Santana closed her eyes in thought. "Yes. One night when everyone was in bed asleep, I was standing in the kitchen and he tried… and so I dropped a plate and smashed it. He fled, and when everyone woke up, I pretended that nothing had happened."
"That was smart," Brittany told her. "Scaring him off by breaking the plate, I mean."
Santana shrugged. "A couple of times I got it right. But in general, I spent a lot of time feeling like everything that happened with guys was my fault, especially because at the time I would tell myself that it was my decision, my choice. Looking back on that, a person can really start to hate themselves for believing that they would really make those choices."
Especially because of what happened after, she thought.
"It was always way more complicated than that. I don't think it was your fault. I think it was your mom's fault for letting him in the house even after she found out. She was supposed to be the one protecting you. I hated her for a long time after that."
Brittany really had. She had hated her with a strength that had even surprised herself.
"I did too. But now it's different. I feel like she is trying really hard to understand me."
"My mom is too. It took her a long time, but we get on better now. She is okay with me being gay. But my point is Santana, you were doing the best that you could do, at the time, working with what you had. You can't judge what happened back then, by what you think you could have done better."
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," Santana said.
"Exactly."
"Tom was what started the proximal ripple effect of bad though. I try not to regret things but at some level I regret all of it. All of those guys we had around us back then… I remember you used to ask me why I always did that. Why them, and not you?"
"It used to hurt that you wanted to be with them instead of me," Brittany admitted.
"I didn't want them, Britt… any of them… but they wanted me, and I could tell, and I thought that was important. I was never truly happy, but I didn't know that at the time. All any of it did was leave scars. It was basically a drug. I needed self-esteem and that seemed to be the only place I could find it. Not ideal, and far more of an addiction than happiness. I had an addiction to making people want me. That is so much easier with guys that girls. I suppose that was all it came down to, I needed a fix. So yeah, I do regret that. What you and I had meant so much more and I was too young to understand that as well as I should. I'm so sorry."
Santana had tears in her eyes. Brittany leaned forward and hugged her, the kind of warm hug that said: it's okay, I forgive you. She had come to understand a long time ago why Santana had been 'addicted' to the positive attention she had received from the boys at their high school. It had been her way of coping with the difficult time that she'd had growing up. She was proud that Santana had moved past it now, and could see that time now, for what it was. They had both realized so many things while they had been apart.
When Santana had calmed down some Brittany spoke, "What if it wasn't Tom that started the ripple effect?" She suddenly couldn't get that thought out of her mind.
"What do you mean?"
"I hear what you're saying about addiction, but it also came down to your mom too. She was your role model at the time, and she wasn't exactly the best one."
"That's true. She had the worst taste in men. But I'm convinced that the reason for that was because she was abused as a child. It fucked her up when it came to relationships."
"I didn't know that," Brittany said.
"She actually didn't even tell me until recently. But you're right, I always used her as my role model, and if I think about it, I can see that many of my actions came from my skewed perception of her relationships. Her grandfather used to take her out to the back shed, close the door, and then sexually abuse her. She had repressed the memories for years, until she was an adult. When I was born she was just starting to have flashbacks. She couldn't work out what was happening to her. She had to go through hypnotherapy to work it out."
"That explains why she wasn't smiling in the photos." Santana had always hated the photos of herself as a baby because her mom wasn't smiling in any of them. Her dad had been smiling, and that always added insult to injury, because he hadn't been much of a father, he hadn't even stuck around long enough to raise her.
Santana knew what she meant. "Wow, I can't believe you remembered that. That stayed with me a long time, but I've forgiven her for it now. It's crystal clear now that you say it though."
"Yeah, it must have been a lot, with the trauma surfacing, and with the death of her brother around the same time." She had taken Marco's suicide really hard, Brittany thought.
"It must have," Santana agreed.
Brittany spoke up with conviction, "You know, I bet that everything that happened was probably out of our hands. To stop the ripple effect that hit us, we probably would need to have the ability to go back in time and stop your mom getting hurt by your great-grandad, so that she could have had healthy relationships and guided you better."
Santana considered this. "I think you're right. But also, I probably wouldn't have been born. She wouldn't have looked twice at my dad if she had been healthy."
"I don't want you to not exist, San. You're definitely meant to be here."
"I'm glad you think so. I've wondered sometimes."
"Abuse always seems to run in families, it's like this awful wave that can span generations until either the wave has passed, or someone is strong enough to stand up and break the cycle." It was something that Brittany had noticed from her work at the clinic."You're strong enough to break the cycle, San."
Santana looked at her, unsure of what to say. She really hoped that Brittany was right.
Brittany spoke instead. "I'm sorry that I never told anybody about Tomas at the time. I remember I threatened your mother, but that wasn't enough."
"Yeah, that was probably when she let me put a lock on my door. That counted for something. And she did get me therapy. I did stop cutting myself for a while. I credit you for that."
"…but I never told another adult, like maybe I should have told a teacher like Mr Schue."
"That was because I begged you not to at the time. And, thank god that you didn't." Santana looked her in the eye. "Because if you had, I would have had no-one that I could trust, and I don't think that I'd still be here."
Brittany was quiet for a moment. That was a heavy statement, and a lot to think about. It also told her that without a shadow of a doubt that at the time she had actually done the right thing. For years, she had felt the opposite. She could already feel a heavy load of guilt slipping off her shoulders.
Santana seemed to be having similar thoughts. "I have always though that destiny is the collision between choice and fate. Only sometimes it can be hard to see where one ends and one begins. It's so easy to think I could have done something different. But maybe that just isn't true. Maybe it really was a butterfly effect thing, and totally out of my hands."
"I called a chapter after that."
Santana's mouth opened. "No way."
"I really did. I have always felt like for better or worse, we've been guided by a kind of fate."
"That's actually strangely comforting," Santana said. "Thanks Britt."
Thinking that the reason that they had failed to stay together as a couple was not really about them, or about a lack of love helped a lot, and healed a lot of old wounds. Maybe the first day she had ever laid eyes on Brittany, she had already been lost in a wave that was already out of both of their hands to stop, slow down, or change.
"Anytime Santana." Brittany looked around. They had been talking so long that it had become completely dark around them. The loop of random episodes that had been playing on the TV had long since finished.
Santana took note of Brittany's heavy lidded tired eyes. She had leaned her head down on one of her throw cushions quite some time ago. If she fell asleep here it would be no drama, but she would probably be more comfortable in her room. Axel was already in bed asleep, she could hear him softly snoring. "We'll continue this another time, yeah?" Santana told her gently. "We've still got the rest of the week. You should get some rest now. It has been a big day."
"You too." Brittany stumbled into her room and Santana to hers, and both girls were asleep within seconds, barely before their heads had even touched the pillow.
...
Cruel eyes loomed in front of her, cold and threatening. "I'm going to invite a bunch of my friends over, and I'm going to blindfold you and let them fuck you, and you aren't even going to know who they are."
Brittany screamed, and awoke from the nightmare in a cold sweat. She threw herself out of bed and ran into Santana's room, forgetting this one time to knock. Santana was sitting up in bed looking confused. Axel had already gone to work so it must have been the early hours of the morning.
"Britt, hey… are you okay? What happened?" She crossed over to her and placed her hands on her shoulders trying to ground her. "Did you have a bad dream?"
Brittany nodded and stood there with wide eyes, catching her breath.
"It was only a dream," Santana said comfortingly. "You're okay."
But Brittany didn't think it had been only a dream. A million memories had suddenly flooded back and hit her all at once. She looked around wildly, not sure of what to say. She found she had only one word. "Puck" she said.
Santana tensed.
"He… hurt you," Brittany stammered, her voice coming out shaky. She felt like she was going to throw up. Thoughts hammered around in her head.
"We're family, we're family, just you and me, Santana and Brittany… always," sixteen-year-old Santana sung to Brittany, whose eyes were closed in near slumber, only stirring slightly to mouth the word 'always' in agreement as she finally fell asleep. She continued humming to Brittany's peaceful sleeping form, her face now untroubled by the events of the day, and her stomach rising and falling under her hands. It had been a hard day, but they had ended it together with hope and promises.
"Oh, how I wish you could understand," Santana whispered, shifting slightly, feeling blood slowly pooling between her legs. She was scared to go home because she knew what was coming.
She felt the other girl stir and unconsciously cuddle closer to her, sensing her distress.
Being in a real 'adult' relationship sure could hurt sometimes, she said to herself silently in her mind, feeling both comforted and alienated at the same time by the other girl's innocence. Brittany isn't ready for a relationship like this like I am, she thought, trailing her fingers down the other girl's cheek, gently coming to rest on a freckle. She doesn't even yet know the meaning of half of the things that I do with Puck.
Santana would make sure that he never ever touched her.
It's only right for me, she told herself. I'm only getting what I want. This was just how love was, right?
"I wasn't sure how much you remembered," Santana said softly.
Brittany's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I had put some of the pieces together, and I had worked out he was a complete asshole, but I think now I think I might actually remember everything."
Santana's hands were gentle, guiding Brittany to sit down on her bed as if she was some kind of delicate flower, her blue rose.
"I'm so sorry that you had a bad dream about that."
"No, no, it's okay," Brittany said, forcing herself to calm down now that she could see Santana was safe. "I'm okay."
I just want to help you, she thought. Something tells me that I can help you.
Santana looked the other girl over. Though she still looked the same, like she had been plucked from some garden and might blow over with the wind, on the inside - a delicate flower she was not. Brittany could handle this now. She was a lot more worldly, and much more focused. This wouldn't be like high school.
Though, she'd be lying if she didn't say that sometimes she missed the girl who was known to put her ear to the ground to check if a stampede was coming, who had spoken to her all in borrowed words from movies and wasn't 100% sure of her right from her left sometimes - but she loved this new Brittany too. She had always seen this version of her somewhere inside her, waiting to come out.
Brittany reached for her hand. That dream had been all kinds of scary. She gazed at Santana who was wearing an all too familiar haunted expression. When had she last seen it before? No, it was more a question of when had it ever left. It had been permanently etched across Santana's face for so many years that she had known her. Ever since they were about sixteen years old.
"Sometimes the brain blocks out a lot of stuff, doesn't it?" Santana said. "It has been like that for me too. And your memory is crazy good, but when something is too big to handle, sometimes memories get put away where we can't get them, just like with my mom and my great-grandad. And then sometimes… they come back."
Brittany felt like there had been times she had remembered, and then a lot of time after when she hadn't. Like at least parts of it had gone in and out of her consciousness like shreds of memory vapors, never quite forming a whole picture.
She tried to think about how it had all started. In her state, she didn't even realize she had asked the question out loud.
"I was pretty fucked up after Tom," Santana said, sitting down with her once again on the bed. "I wasn't happy at home. It made it easier for people to take advantage of me. My mom still thinks Puck or 'Noah' as he was to her, was a nice guy. She doesn't know what he was really like. No one did, and I wasn't sure at the time how much you were able to understand."
"He always pretended to be a nice guy, but I was afraid of him from the start." Brittany said slowly.
"You're a strange one Brittany, but somehow you're still hot," Puck said. "Our nicknames can be 'cute,' 'young' and 'innocent.' I get to be 'cute,' because I'm the best looking one, you're 'innocent,' and that leaves her to be 'young' because that's all she can still claim to be. Especially after last night, she doesn't have a shred of innocence left."
Brittany stared at him. He brought this up so many times, how young Santana was. Why did that even matter? She wanted to hate him, but everyone kept telling her that he was nice, and that he made Santana happy. So, she had to believe that. But every time he said the word 'young' he got this shark grin, and she could count all his teeth.
"He was an adult, he was twenty-eight years old. We weren't even sixteen yet," Brittany said. "I used to call him a 'shark' back then, because of his hair, but it was as if part of me unconsciously thought he was some kind of predator. I've only realized in the past couple of years how weird it was that he hung around us. When we were teenagers I always second-guessed any bad feelings I ever had, because you… because everyone always just said he was one of us, you know? Just our friend's nice older brother who seemed to get away with hanging around on school property way too much of the time, and always drove us around anywhere we wanted to go." Brittany balled Santana's blanket in her fists, twisting it back and forth.
"You were smart to be afraid. He did pretend to be nice at the start. To me too, but all he wanted was to have endless orgies with every underage girl he could find. At the time I thought he and I were both helping each other out of bad situations. I thought we were alike. In the beginning he promised me the world. He said he'd get me away from my mom, and this small-minded town, and take you with us too, if you had wanted. He never showed his true colors until he had me, and had cut me off from everyone else. That all came after I moved out, after we graduated high school and moved to another state."
When we graduated you wanted me to come with you, and I didn't, Brittany thought. Things could have been so different. You would never have asked me to come with you, if you had really known then what he was really like. She said it out loud. "You didn't know what he was really like when we graduated."
"No, I didn't. Or maybe I was a bit in denial. Which is also kind of like not knowing. I thought there was something wrong with me, and that what he was doing was okay, and I just had to get used to it. It didn't feel good, that was for sure, but I used to tell myself over and over that it was my choice, and it was what I wanted, and that he could save us both."
Brittany had dreamed of their graduation day, the day he took her away, over and over like Groundhog Day, for hundreds of times over the years, until she felt like she was never going to escape that moment. A familiar song suddenly began playing in her head. Oh, take me back to the start.
If only she could go back to that moment, there are so many things that she would have told Santana.
Santana sat back against the headrest, giving Brittany a moment to take it in. "He also got me hooked on prescription dexamphetamines in high school. They were 'for his ADD.' He never did drugs himself, he never did anything where he had to give up even one ounce of control. He only ever pushed drugs onto me. My memories of after high school aren't very clear because most of the time when he did things to me, he got me high so that I would be more compliant."
"That's why there's so much you can't remember," Brittany said in understanding. The fog coursing through Santana's memories had spread much further than through the period of time after high school, it had eaten away indiscriminately, taking memories from before, right back to her childhood.
"Yeah, sometimes I feel like he systematically destroyed me from the inside out. Like 'bad' and 'good' were wired together somehow."
"Because he always told you stuff felt 'good' when it really felt 'bad'?"
"Yes, and I told myself the exact same thing. And even now my body still can't work out whether it feels good or bad. I always tense up during sex, even when it's really good. And, I still have flashbacks."
"I'm sorry that you have to go through that," Brittany said softly.
"It sucks. I kept using drugs to cope, even after Puck. The party drugs were very effective, at first anyway, at making me the way I was 'supposed' to feel, then I got more tolerant and kept taking more to try and get it to do the same thing. Drugs don't really change things though, they amplify them. Eventually they amplify the bad more."
Brittany kept silent, wanting to just let Santana talk out anything she needed to. She remembered Santana's drug use, and part of her had always had a feeling that there was a far darker side to it than she had known.
Santana smoothed out the blanket that Brittany had twisted into oblivion and gathered her thoughts. "You know, Puck started having sex with me in high school, not that long after we met him."
"When your eyes went purple," Brittany said softly, lost in memories.
Santana seemed to understand what she meant. "Yes. I remember you saying that. He used to do anal to me back then, because my body wouldn't let him inside. I didn't really want to do it, but it made him happy, which at the time made him happy so for a little while that was enough."
Brittany's anger flashed and coursed through her, sudden like lightning. Nothing was ever enough for him. She hated him. She always had, but now there was no reason to pretend that she didn't, and a million more reasons to find him, and chop off one of his nuts. Right or left, his choice. Or would she just take both? It took her a moment to realize that that was one of Santana's old sayings.
"Easy girl," Santana said, placing a hand on Brittany's shoulder.
"I have rage," Brittany admitted.
"I don't anymore," Santana shrugged. It was true. Somewhere in time, the near constant anger that had always plagued her when she was younger, had left her. She was a different person without all her snark, and that 'try to fuck me up' attitude she'd always had.
Brittany fumed, still in a space of wanting to do violence. He knew exactly what he was doing, she thought. If I could, even as an autistic kid read 'no' on Santana's face when she wasn't okay with something, then a grown ass man certainly could. Santana had always had such an expressive face.
"Come on, Britt, don't have a rage blackout on me now."
Brittany nodded, and grit her teeth, and once again forced herself to calm down for Santana's sake. She thought of something else. "I think it was pretty normal for both of us back then to be still working things out, like who were were and what we wanted. We were kind of figuring that stuff out together. That kind of thing is pretty much always just part of being a teenager."
Santana nodded. "You're right. Back then, I didn't know what I was okay with yet, or what I wasn't. I thought I was making decisions I was okay with because I didn't know better. I was so conflicted with physical feelings, which could be good, and my emotions which were far less good."
"He had the upper hand," Brittany said quietly, wondering if that was something that Santana had accepted yet.
"Yes. And, I was groomed... or trained to act a certain way and believe certain things. Trained to ignore any doubts I had, and to do what was expected of me believing it was good. It fed into my addiction for attention, so I'm sure there were dopamine rewards for feeling wanted, which made it easier to train me. It took me a long time to realize what was happening was rape. Even if I thought I wanted it, under every legal and moral definition there was nothing else it could have been. I barely ever had sex without bleeding, and he was huge, and he had a ridiculous amount of let's just say stamina. I'd only had sex once before him."
"With Ben?" Brittany asked, flashing back to the past.
You'll be special, he whispered to her, the first of your friends, probably. You'll be the only one to have had this experience and it doesn't even matter, because you've done stuff before anyway. It's best to just get the rest done. You understand that, right Santana?"
"No, I don't want to." Santana had told him, but when he'd asked why, she couldn't give him a reason for why not.
"Was that his name? I can't remember. I had only just met him at the time. Ben does sound right though. But I'd only had that one experience, and then all of a sudden I'm being pounded with ten inches, wider than my wrist for hours at a time until I bled. Having that happen over and over for years of my life is not exactly something that I could forget. He always kept going after I said that he was hurting me."
Something clicked in Brittany's mind. "Is that why we went to the doctor?" she asked gently squeezing Santana's hand. "When you had that surgery?"
"Yes, that was a cauterization. He had caused me to bleed so much that I couldn't stop. They did something that deadened a whole bunch of skin inside me. I can't feel certain sensations anymore."
"You were very brave at the clinic that time. I'm sorry that I didn't know the whole story then."
"Thanks, Britt. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. I know you were physically there for some stuff, but there was a lot I couldn't find the words to tell you at the time."
"That dream I had just now," Brittany briefly summed it up for Santana who nodded and confirmed that the details were true.
"You know, it doesn't even surprise me that you dreamed of all that." She knew Brittany had always somehow seen things in her head and known things that she had never been told. "He used to threaten to invite people over and do that all the time."
"Threats are very scary too," Brittany said.
They definitely are. She watched as sudden recognition suddenly flickered across Brittany's face. "What is it, Britt?"
"It wasn't a threat this time," Brittany started.
"It's okay, you can tell me," Santana said.
Brittany took a deep breath and told her, "This has been part of many of my dreams, for years, not just the one I had last night. I always dream that I'm being passed around like a prize in a group, and Puck is there lending me out for sexual favors in exchange for stuff like alcohol or drugs. Someone is always there taking video of it."
"Wow." Brittany and her third eye never failed to amaze her. "Yes. It was at one of those parties that I met Axel," Santana remembered. "Axel had a… different job back then, a job that he gave up for me. Puck tried to offer me up to him, in exchange for free drugs, but Axel told him that either he had to start treating me better or he was taking me away with him. Eventually he took me away. He got me out of that situation, something that couldn't do for myself."
"I'm so glad he did."
"Me too."
"It was at this address." Brittany suddenly rattled off the name and street number.
Santana rose quickly, and typed it into her phone, zooming in on the picture. "Yes, that's right," she said. "I would never have known the name of the street myself, but that's the place."
"I'd always thought that I had dreams like that because it happened to me," Brittany explained. "I felt so sure that I'd been the one that had been…"
"No darlin'" Santana cut in quickly. "I'd never let that happen to you. I've always protected you. I never let Puck anywhere near you. You were never offered up to anyone as a prize."
"I understand that now. When I woke up before, I realized for the first time that all along I'd been dreaming of your life, not mine. I'd been so confused what it all meant all this time. I'm so sorry that happened to you."
Brittany barely noticed that tears were leaking from her own eyes. Her rage had burned away, and now she was just sad. It wasn't lost on her that Santana had protected her from things she hadn't even protected herself from. It just wasn't fair.
"It has been hard. In the beginning it was hard just to stop hating that it happened. And I feel like there's still something I need to do, to deal with this once and for all, or I never ever will. I just don't know what that something is. I hate that this still affects me. I hate that even after all this time I feel afraid and stare out of windows thinking something is coming, like my body is still forever in fight or flight. I hate that it's all a blur. I feel like it's hard to mentally process something that's a blur, when I barely know what happened. Maybe I need to take hypnotherapy like my mom. I just feel like I need to tell someone," Santana said all in a rush, her voice rising and getting more emotional with every word.
"You can tell me," Brittany said. "You can start a conversation about this anytime you want to, even if it's while we are having ice-cream or something. I think that it's better that way. I think we need to talk about it until it almost becomes boring and loses its emotional charge you know? Because if that happens, then it can't affect you like this. It can't sneak up on you when you aren't expecting it. Do you want to hear my theory?"
"Absolutely." Santana replied, calming down. She believed Brittany would help her. She had always helped her.
They lay side by side together on Santana's bed staring at the ceiling. Santana gave Brittany time to translate what she was thinking into words that she could understand, and Brittany thought hard, knowing that what she said next was going to be important, one way or another.
"Okay, so imagine that memories are like whiteboards," Brittany began. "It works extra good for you because you're a scientist, and so am I in a way. When I picture a scientist, I get this image of a huge whiteboard with lots of writing all over it, like formulas and drawings and theories. Okay, so think of that, but for memories instead. Imagine that you have a bunch of whiteboards floating around in your head, and each one has all this writing all over it representing what you know about your memories about certain people, places or things. One might be full of animal anatomy, one might have all the Buffy lyrics, and one might even have memories with me? That would be a good one yeah? You're wicked smart with a huge brain, so you have a lot of them."
Santana nodded. She was following so far.
Brittany stood up and crossed to the window and drew the blinds to keep out the light. "But, I feel like there is this one whiteboard that is full of your darkest thoughts and memories from your time with Puck. At the time when everything was happening, to protect yourself, you wrote everything that was too hard to deal with on that one board, then you hid it away in some Dark Place in your head. That was smart, and the right thing to do at the time because that was that was how you survived, that was how you kept going."
Santana closed her eyes in thought. She was glad Brittany had closed the blinds. She had been wanting to do it herself but hadn't wanted to appear as paranoid as she knew she was. She was always afraid that there were people outside, even though they were on a mountain. With the blinds closed, she could concentrate so much better.
Brittany sat back down and matched her, closing her eyes too, and cocking her head to one side. "I actually picture this little person running around your brain reading all your whiteboards going 'ooh, nineties Ricky Martin facts' … 'Eight AM start tomorrow, ugh'… 'the recipe for chocolate cake is…' and then this is what becomes your conscious thoughts. Then the little person turns a corner, finds himself in The Dark Place and then starts reading that whiteboard and then skids to a stop and then backs away after only reading a few words. That's why the memories are barely there, and the flashbacks just an unsettling taste of memory fragments leaving you scared and confused. It happens to me too. Maybe sometimes it doesn't even result in a full flashback, and you aren't even aware that it's happened, like maybe the result is just feeling random tension sometimes that you can't control."
"Like when I tense up during sex?" Santana absolutely hated when she did that the most, it had always made her feel so defeated.
"Exactly. And then tension spirals, because you start to wonder what you're getting tense about, and that just makes it worse."
"That's exactly what happens," Santana said, "And I just hate it."
"I know. But I think if you want to make that stop, you have to read what's on the 'bad' whiteboard once and for all, and then talk about it until it's 'boring' enough that your little person takes it out of The Dark Place, stacks it with the other whiteboards, and then it's not 'special' right? And then the little person wandering around your mind can't get cornered in that one place, and stuck in there with that whiteboard, because it would be out there in the open with millions of your other memories, and they would be all the same, she could just walk right on past that one and choose any other."
Brittany stopped to take a breath. She had all but run out of oxygen on this rant. "I think you've done really well," she stressed to Santana looking her in the eyes. "I bet that little person in your head could read about a lot of your memories, even about ones with Puck on a lot of your normal whiteboards, because those are things that you've already dealt with and accepted, and you should be so proud of yourself for that. Some things though, are just hard. The worst moments. The most painful ones. It makes sense to save them until last."
Santana looked at Brittany gratefully. She was glad that the other girl had thought she had done well. Brittany's opinion always meant so much to her. And now she even had opinions backed by an actual psychology degree. And, I think she's onto something, she thought.
"I believe that you can get through this, Santana. Here's the thing. Just because those moments overpowered you then, doesn't mean that they will now. Those memories aren't undefeatable, they are just disorganized. And we organize stuff by talking right?"
Santana nodded. She could do this. She could talk about this. She could take the power back.
"And I'm different now too," Brittany added. "Maybe talking about those things would have overpowered me too when you knew me then, but that does not mean that I'll fall apart hearing them now. I'm strong now, like you. And I can hear all this, accept you for it, be okay, and more than anything I won't see you any differently. I'll love you exactly the same."
Santana felt a new sense of hope, and also a new sense of appreciation for Brittany. It was about the tenth time that she'd had the same thought today, but Brittany really had grown up so much. "I'd like that, Britt, that all makes so much sense."
There was still something at the back of her mind though, that she couldn't let go of. "Britts..."
Brittany squeezed her hand gently and waited. She didn't mind if it took Santana all day to get out what she clearly needed to say.
Santana sat up suddenly, tense and still. "It's only... It's just… I feel like it must have been easier for my mom. She was five at the time. Nobody was ever going to tell her that it was her fault."
Brittany looked her over. Clearly this had always haunted her. "And neither am I, because it isn't. You were a child too. And you didn't want this."
Another memory stirred in her brain echoing something that Santana had said to her, long ago.
"He hits me sometimes, Britt, hard across my face and body, and it feels good. I like it. You wouldn't understand. Sometimes it even makes me cum," Santana said loudly down the line, clearly inebriated.
Brittany held onto the phone tightly, scared out of her mind. Where was Santana calling her from? Where was she, and what was she doing? Was she safe? She felt the world blur in and out around her, as she realized she was crying so hard she couldn't see.
After Santana hung up, the blur turned into a fog, and the hours ebbed away. Some weeks later, she wouldn't remember the call at all.
"It doesn't even matter if you enjoyed parts of it, that doesn't make any of it right. It didn't make anything that he did okay," Brittany told her.
Sometimes, self-destructing could feel good. If it didn't, people wouldn't ever do it as a release, she thought. It could feel good, but it wasn't good for you.
It made perfect sense to her that Santana would have used her sex life to self-destruct back then, because after all it was already something that had been in the process of destructing her.
"I don't think anyone has ever told me that."
"What?"
"That even if I enjoyed parts of it at times, that still didn't make it right. There is such a big belief that if you enjoy even a microsecond, you must have wanted it, it must be your fault, it must be a retrospective misunderstanding if you didn't feel the same afterwards."
"I'll say it again then. It wasn't right," Brittany paused. "Santana, I understand." She really did. She was no stranger to having self-destructive tendencies herself at times.
"Bodies sometimes react in ways independent to the brain. When he was hurting you, you may have felt scared, lonely, or angry, but because it was sexual maybe it physically kind of felt good. And, if that was the case then the very last thing I am ever going to say to you is 'oh, so you wanted it then? That makes it okay.' It doesn't. It doesn't make any of it okay, or any less abusive. It just makes you human. I know you, and I know that one of the hardest emotions for you…. for any of us… to feel is shame. Feeling that emotion for any reason would be a very powerful instigator to lock up memories. But you can let them out now, San. You need to get your life back."
Santana exhaled. "I have for so many years wanted to be able to do that, but I've never been able to do it by myself. I just don't know how."
"We can talk about this," Brittany reminded her gently.
"Yes. I want to. I think I'm now in a safe enough place that I wouldn't have a flashback that I can't recover from. At least knowing the conversation is coming, I can sort of prepare myself, which is better than a flashback hitting me while I'm at school around strangers who don't understand."
She paused.
"I've always really wished that someone would help me, and I really think that you would be capable of that, because I can be completely one-hundred-percent honest with you and have zero fear of being judged, while actually being understood. I've just never wanted to put this on someone, especially not you. I just feel like it's a lot for another person to deal with."
"I really will be okay." Brittany reassured her. "I promise. You don't need to worry about me anymore."
Those words were like a key to a lock. Santana rose from the bed and started pacing around the room. Her voice shook as she spoke. "You know Britt, everyone else in my life only gets to see a certain side of me. I am always editing what version of myself I show them. It's tiring remembering all the different versions of myself. I think you will get that. But I don't feel like that with you. I don't feel like there is any part of me that needs to stay hidden. I do feel ready to deal with this in a lot of ways, I'm just not sure it is exactly that I have to deal with, but I really do need some help."
Brittany stood up and came to stand beside her. "I think I'm meant to help you, Santana."
"I think you are too. I think you might be my angel, Britt. I'm so thankful that you're back in my life, and you're my best friend in all the world. I've missed you so much."
"Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you, tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart
Tell me your secrets and ask me your questions
Oh, let's go back to the start
Running in circles, coming up tails
Heads on a science apart
Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start
I was just guessing at numbers and figures
Pulling the puzzles apart
Questions of science, science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
But tell me you love me, come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing our tails
Coming back as we are
Nobody said it was easy
Oh, it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard
I'm going back to the start"
Dear Unicorns,
So, this was 'the battle that I couldn't see.'
When I finished this story at Chapter 26 it was such an incredible time of my life. I was processing things I had never been able to process before and I had made so many amazing unicorn friends. But I still had a long way to go. The disturbing things that I either saw or heard that man do to my Santana were too much for my brain to handle and so it was like they got short-circuited out. Back in the day, I did even write scene between her and "Puck" based on what I could remember at the time (a good example is in Chapter 22) and yes… I feel they were quite accurate…. for one of his faces anyway. He had another side to him. Santana says that she thinks the other side to him was part sociopath and part sadist. When we were in high school, I didn't really know what was going on, I mean you guys saw what I was like. I knew they were having sex and Santana kept telling me that she was fine, and it was what she wanted, but her eyes were purple. Then, when high school ended, he took her away and that's when things really escalated, as if they weren't bad enough already.
I'm a firm believer that every single good thought and prayer should go to Santana in this situation, but to just state a fact, I ended up being traumatized by this too. We both ended up forgetting things, the fancy term for it is 'dissociative amnesia.' Santana lost tons of memories, like it was like her head got scrambled up and most of her memories took a hit, no matter what they were. I had a far easier time because for me it wasn't all memories, the main gaps in my head were the traumatic ones about her sexual abuse, plus a short period of time directly after I finished the story (I'll explain that part in a minute). I'm not sure if it's because I'm autistic, but I experienced 'a freezer effect' when I got my memories back - they were clear as day like they had happened yesterday (as if they had been in a freezer) but Santana's memories even after being retrieved, had significantly degraded.
It's hard to have memory loss, it's a very uncomfortable condition to live with to say the least. I'm thinking that I began to forget things after I lost Santana, and then there must have been probably a period of confusion, and then out of desperation I then started writing. And then, straight after I finished the story (about a year and a half later) I went off the rails a bit. I want to be very clear though, and explain something: writing got me into the best mental health position that was possible for me at the time. I was without a doubt destined for a breakdown. Those locked up memories of sexual violence, combined with Santana being gone and having no idea whether she was okay – I was going to crash at some point no matter what I, or anyone did. It was simply too much to handle. When you love someone that much, their pain and hurt, and your own endless worry for them during a time of real tragedy affects you on every level. I delayed the crash for a while by writing, that was really what was keeping me going, I was very focused on that at the time, and I was determined to get to the end. It was a good strategy, but you can only outrun something for so long before it catches up and hits you. And I want you guys to think of it like this… all of you unicorns built a house around me to protect me, we put up strong walls together, and you gave me lots of blankets. And so, when the crash eventually happened, I was protected under all those layers of kindness and it was nowhere near as bad as it could have been. I was in the best possible position to weather out the storm, I'd had my 3 wishes granted, I'd reflected, I'd processed, and I'd found closure for many other events. The repressed memory trauma though, was like a sickness. The 6-8 months that followed after I finished the story are a haze and blur. But I did eventually come out of it. And I'm not sure I could have if I hadn't done this here, or at least I'm sure it would have taken much longer to get back on track.
And, I couldn't have done it without Shaylen. She was someone that really took care of me while I was getting better. You see - she is actually one of you guys, a unicorn. I met her here. When I was at my lowest point, that was when she started telling me stories, every day to cheer me up, because I had no stories left to keep me going. She helped me rebuild myself, and my life. And I found happiness and a different life. I never forgot Santana, but I found a way to live again. Although, Shaylen would no doubt remember all of my nightmares. We used to call this one I used to have over and over like every week for a long time 'The Recurring.' I've had many different recurring dreams, several even from Santana's perspective which is why I used to wonder if I had been the one who had been sexually abused. It was actually easier believing it had happened me, than thinking it had happened to her.
I pieced everything together slowly over the years. Santana had left me many clues, small comments said in otherwise normal conversations that had never been repressed by me, just never understood. Puck had done little things that gave him away too. I held those pieces the entire time, but had yet to be in a place and maturity where I could interpret them for what they were. I also reached twenty-eight years of age, the same age he was when this started, and could not imagine myself ever hitting on any fifteen-year-old in a million years, and so began questioning, well, why did he? Something wasn't right. I went through phases with it. At first it was like 'maybe he was a bit of a creeper?' I had spent such a long period of my life not questioning it because I had been always told that it was 'normal.' But it isn't. It's illegal. No matter what, a young teenager is not in the same phase of life as an adult. Teenagers are still figuring out what they like, especially in a sexual context, and need the space to do that. An adult with a teenager would have the upper hand, to say the least, and that upper hand is never appropriate.
I bet you guys would have told me that his age was a red flag back in the day if I'd thought to mention it then. If only I'd mentioned it. This chapter was very hard for me to write but I feel like it was so important, because what if there are more young people out there like we were that don't understand that being in that situation can be dangerous.
Then there were the dreams and flashbacks. My brain handed me back details one by one whenever it thought I was strong enough to cope with knowing and seeing it. I went from thinking 'creeper' all the way through to thinking 'hmm, maybe he was dangerous.' When I got back in touch with Santana, and finally knew she was all right, it was like turning over and seeing all the cards at last. I remembered it all. Let's now go with 'creeper, sociopath, sadistic pedophile.' That's fair. Everything came back to me in July through to December. And because I had all the cards, I could then give them back to her.
As I said before, the next chapter is about healing. I went back to see Santana last December and some really great things happened. I can't wait to tell you.
Oh! and I've been going through my messages on this site combing through for anyone I had missed over the years while everything was crazy. I found 6 messages that were there that I hadn't replied to as yet. My most sincere apologies to MissPurpleDragonfly, iloveyousantanalopez, damnsasha, Bicorn077, heyamustbreal, NayaR. I've sent replies now (better late than never) and I really am sorry that I missed you before. If you're not on this list, and I never replied to you, then please know I never received what you sent to me. I'm so sorry again for not properly keeping up with my messages, I'm definitely in the doghouse for that. I've never not appreciated you guys for all the times that you've cared and reached out to me, I promise.
3 things
1. I first wrote about "Tomas" in Chapter 7 - Run away with me. There's a couple of new details in this chapter, but for the most part what I wrote then was very accurate. I'm glad that at the time I recognized the impact that he'd had even back then, enough to put him in the story.
Puck's "Cute, young and innocent" thing happened in Chapter 12 - We are our own worst enemies.
I was glad that I could help Santana see that it wasn't 'her choice' in getting involved with Tomas that caused everything, because for so long she really believed that. The quote I was referring to is: "It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world."
We don't know exactly what the 'flutter' was because it likely occurred many generations back, but it built up, and I am sure that it's the reason that the whole wave/chain of events happened.
Here's the chain as I know it.
Santana's great grandfather (Let us call him "David") from what we know of him was likely a terrible and selfish father and husband. His wife Gloria killed herself. They were the parents of Santana's Abuela. Santana's Abuela has always struggled with her mental health. It would have been difficult for her to be a warm and loving parent to her daughter, who was Santana's mother, Maria.
When Maria was 5 onwards - she was sexually abused by David. Her siblings Marco and Martin both struggled. Marco committed suicide, and Martin still struggles a lot with the knowledge he has of what happened to Maria. Maria was also raped by someone else at about thirteen. She grew up having no idea what a healthy relationship was and had appalling taste in men.
She was still very young, maybe late teens when she dated this gifted smart, but complete asshole (Santana's father). He got her pregnant, and then Santana was born. He left them to become a doctor. Maria then proceeded to have a string of awful boyfriends who treated her (and Santana) terribly. Because she was dating abusive idiots, nothing was ever simple and there was a lot of drama. This took her attention away from raising Santana, and she was an absent uncaring mother to her when it counted, and she was definitely not a good role model when it came to relationships. Santana grew up hyper-sexualized, and troubled with low self-esteem, and like her mother sought attention from others to get it. She mistook sex for intimacy and getting attention for having self-worth. She thought men like her mother dated were the appropriate men to date. So, she got taken advantage of by bad people, like Tomas, and then Puck (who was definitely a 'typhoon'.) And now, hopefully the chain is truly over. I do believe that it was bigger than us, and I do feel that there was nothing that we could have done to stop the typhoon from happening, and it did get in the way of our relationship at the time which is nobody's fault.
We did, and do however love each other so much, that we were able to withstand the typhoon in the end. That is the truly special thing.
2. The phrase Hindsight is 20-20 is believe it or not a catch phrase of both "Santana" and Naya Rivera's. I know that because I read Naya Rivera's book and she said it too. It is very good, I think everyone should read it if they can.
The little flashback that saw Santana singing me a made-up little song about family was from the time when she comforted me after her suicide attempt, I'm sure it was in Chapter 16 – On my Mind, though I cannot reread that right now to check. I did reread one chapter the other day and I was like holy shit, this is why you guys say this is emotional. I wrote this!? I don't think I can reread any more at present. It kind of killed me.
3. Okay, this is going to be a dream explanation:
The dream that I had in this chapter was new for me. It wasn't the horrific being-abused-in-Santana's body dreams I'd had many times before. Or the one where I dream about graduation day and I'm stuck there and I can't graduate and leave no matter what I do (I've had that one literally hundreds of times, no joke).
This time, I was with Santana at a concert and a local heavy metal band was playing. We were younger, maybe teenagers. We were in the mosh pit at the front, and the lead singer wasn't the real lead singer, it was "Puck" but she couldn't see it. She whispered to me that she had been talking to him online and that he was so nice. I locked eyes with him, through the mask he was wearing, it was one of those gas masks that they wore during wars in the old days. "Puck" actually really had one. They were in fashion at the BDSM clubs back then. I have no idea if they still are. I started getting a bad feeling. Santana looked pale and trancelike, staring up at Puck. I started pulling on her wrist saying we should go. The words were barely out of my mouth before suddenly there was an explosion around us and everyone was burning up on the stage, and behind us. People on fire started running around like crazy trying to get out. I hauled her out of there and we were outside. It was as if she were under a spell, she wasn't talking or responding, just staring with glazed eyes forward. Her pupils were huge. I didn't know how to get home. We were in the parking lot and I was going through her pockets and mine looking for a phone and I couldn't find one. People are still running around on fire missing parts of their bodies. Suddenly, he's there. He tells me that he is going to take her and get her to a 'safe' place. I said no. He said that there was nothing I could do about it, and then he snatches her away from me and so I'm screaming bloody murder. He takes her anyway.
The next thing I know is that I'm 'floating' through the years, watching things unfold (this is the part where I remembered a lot of my repressed memories) but I cannot interact with the things I'm seeing. I'm not a solid form. I see Santana lots of times. She can see me. As I see those awful things happen to her, she often looks at me and points to things, or whispers messages to me when "Puck" isn't watching. I wrote a lot of it down I woke up, and I am now slowly interpreting the little clues. One example is I saw her holding up three fingers during a particular nasty event I wasn't around for. Later on that week, when I saw three scars on her leg (in real life) that I'd never seen on her before, I understood why.
Back to the dream. Finally, I'm corporal and when I 'land' and I'm at my home, and years have gone by. I completely panic. He'd taken her years ago, and, where was I? I did nothing. These were my thoughts. Did I forget and that's why years went by? Dreams are funny like that; you can never quite work out what is happening.
I start running. I take off and I'm running all the way to "New York" (place changed to the Glee equivalent to protect identities). The whole way is through a cemetery. I find people that I know there. I ask them where she is. They tell me the address (the address that I quoted to Santana in the chapter – blew her away that I somehow knew that by the way). I keep running. Eventually I find her, and she's tied up and blindfolded raised up on a post. Puck is there. He says it "I'm going to invite a bunch of people over, and I'm going to blind fold you and let them fuck you, and you aren't even going to know who they are. That will steal the last of your soul, you won't be able to come back from that." I fight my way through to Santana, and I grab hold of her and just cling on. She seems to understand that it's me because she puts her arms around me. Puck rolls his eyes and tries to approach me and pull me off, but he is thrown back, like 6 feet back, landing on his butt. He is annoyed. He tries again, but every time same result. It was because Santana had kissed my forehead when we were kids, like it was glowing white. Because she had protected me with love, he couldn't/hadn't touched me. And I long as I held onto her and didn't give up on her, I could protect her too. And then I woke up. I think you can understand now why I ran screaming into her room.
I think that this concept is true in real life too. Because she had always protected me, she had preserved part of my mind and its memories, like she kept me intact in a way that meant that one day I could come back and protect/help her. Even though she didn't protect me for that reason, or for any personal gain, it can happen that sometimes protecting someone else, actually is the best safeguard to protect your own self. Your own love can come back through others. That's what the next chapter is going to be about. Hope to see you sometime around the first day in May, for Chapter 30. I know this part was a bit heavy, so you guys all take care and have a Happy Easter too if you celebrate it. :)