Chapter 3
SANTANA POV
I jumped pretty aggressively when I heard my name. The people here didn't know me by that name, just Tana, so I knew that this was the moment that would come one day. My friends have found me, and I knew exactly who it was solely on her saying my name. I hesitantly turned around and met eyes with the hazel eyed blonde that so frequently visited my memories. My stomach was in knots and my throat felt swollen. I was speechless. I had no idea how she found me. I don't think I'm ready to come clean to Quinn about how I've been living, but now she is here and if I know her at all, she won't leave until she got what she came for.
"Quinn…what are you doing here?" I croaked out.
"Five years is way too long San, I had to know you are okay."
My defense mechanisms were activated, I had been doing this for years, avoiding people. "Yeah well I'm fine so you don't have to worry about me."
Quinn studied her face for a few seconds, "Bullshit. Where's your boss? I'm taking you for the night."
"Q, you can't just come in here and do that. This is my job."
"And my job as your friend is to look after you, and I have failed miserably at that. I'm very persuasive when I need to be…and you need a night off with a friend. When was the last time you had that?"
I wanted to argue but she knew it was no use, Quinn always got what she wanted. It was one of the reasons we fought so much back in the day. I stood idly by, still shell-shocked at the turn of events, as Quinn made her way over to the other bartender. She glanced my way and pointed, obviously talking about me. Tony was the bartenders name, and dear old Tony pointed Quinn in the direction of Cyrus' loft office upstairs. She winked at me and went upstairs. I felt like my shoes were glued to the floor. I wanted to run so bad. My heart was racing and I was beginning to feel a little light headed. I'm terrified of the judgment, I guess, but there was something about Quinn that made me feel like I didn't have to be scared. I couldn't put a finger on what has changed about her, but she is definitely different. And sexy as hell. I may have lost my game but I haven't lost my eye for beautiful women. Quinn Fabray is THE perfect woman. Always has been.
Quinn returned in a matter of minutes and I had to gather my thoughts quickly because she grabbed my hand and swept me out the door. My brain barely had time to catch up and understand what was happening. Quinn was here. She's going to have questions. How the hell am I going to answer them?
The second we stepped out onto the streets of New York, Quinn stopped and pulled me close to her. She squeezed me so tight in that embrace that I felt my entire body just succumb to her and relax. That's when a tear escaped and I knew I was done for. I began sobbing in my old best friend's arms.
"shh it's okay San I'm not going anywhere. I'm here now. You're not alone. I'm not here to judge. Common let's go to my hotel room and talk, is that okay?"
All I could do is nod. I haven't opened up to a friend in years. I had spent so much energy isolating myself to protect everyone I love. Well, I also was saving my own ass in a way. The walls I put up were intense. I kept living behind them day after day until I wasted 5 years of my young adult life. Quinn reached down and grabbed my hand in hers as she led me to her hotel. God I missed her.
QUINN POV
I know Santana well. I was shocked at how little of a fight she put up when I dragged her out of work. But then she started crying in my arms and I knew there was so much I more going on inside her head than I imagined. I had to make sure I could get it out of her before she put her guard up. So when we got to my room, the first thing I said to her was, "now that we are here I really don't want you pushing me away. I'm here for you and I want to help, so please just let me. Don't switch your personalities like I know you do, just be honest and real."
Santana still didn't say anything. She stood by the door and just looked at me. I had a chance in this moment to really get a look at her. Just based on her appearance and body language I knew this wasn't the same Santana I knew in high school. She appeared scared, insecure, and coward at eye contact after too long. She's always been skinny, but it's different now, bordering on unhealthy. Like she completely lost the muscle mass that the Cheerios gave her in high school. She had worry lines on her face, mostly lining the corners of her mouth. Her eye bags were more present than I had ever seen. Then I noticed something off about her outfit that I probably wouldn't have questioned if I were a stranger to her...but I'm not. I do know that the Santana I remember would have never worn a long sleeve shirt in the middle of June. She despised sweating if she didn't have too. That is something I have learned after many years of dealing with Santana's endless complaints at Summer Cheerios camp. And I know for a fact it is not her work uniform; all the bartenders were wearing different shirts.
"Santana take off your shirt"
I knew that would get her attention. I was purposely setting her up to make a joke, while also searching to quickly answer he scary questions churning in my head.
"I always knew you wanted to see me naked Q" Santana smirked, but kept her shirt exactly where it was. Defense mechanism.
I sighed and rolled my eyes. I grabbed her hand and guided her to sit on the bed next to me. I knew the only way I could play this was to be truthful.
"San it's the middle of June and you're wearing long sleeves. I wouldn't have questioned it if I wasn't already concerned. Too bad for you, but I know you a lot better than you think. Please, show me what you're hiding." My voice tapered off at the end as I could feel tears well up in my eyes while I pleaded with her.
SANTANA POV
She saw right through me. I can't pretend to be the confident bitch I was in high school anymore. Not with Quinn, not now. But holy shit my heart is beating so fast and my legs are going shaky, so I move sluggishly towards the bed and collapsed on my back.
Quinn looked at me with worried eyes, I had to say something, "Stop looking at me like that Q I'm going to tell you everything. I'm just still in shock that you're even here. Are you going to tell me how you found me?"
"That's not important right now San, because I should have looked for you years ago. Hell, I shouldn't have left for New Haven back in 2012 until I saw you. I wish I had fought harder."
I should have known that pushing my friends away would cause guilt in their lives. They couldn't have gotten through to me back then, but I didn't give them the chance to even try. She's trying now, and I owe it to her to try too, even if this is happening completely out of the blue. I was so messed up that Summer. I had already been struggling with my mental health before Brittany broke my heart, but losing her was a huge trigger. My friends didn't deserve to be burdened with my problems. At least, that's what I said over and over again every time I was tempted to call Quinn and beg for comfort. But now, Quinn was here begging to take some of my burdens. I didn't realize how much I needed a confidant. So I toyed with the bottom hem of my shirt, remembering how ugly and broken I looked underneath halted my progress briefly. I felt Quinn put her hand on my thigh and gave it a squeeze, giving me reassurance.
So I went for it. I lifted my shirt over my head and immediately got self-conscious and tried to cover up the scars. I've had the tendency to self-harm pretty much ever since I got my first period. Fucked up brain, I'm telling you. It was always normal for me, doesn't mean I wasn't ashamed as hell. It started out on my thighs in high school; they were the easiest to hide. I eventually, after I quit cheerios, moved to my upper arms and then even to my stomach sometimes. They are disgusting marks that I am ashamed and embarrassed of. I somehow managed to control myself with the amount of injuries. I was fully aware of how difficult it is to hide self-harm scars. Day to day life was miserable and no matter what, I could never get away from the urge to hurt myself. I've really been trying to get past these issues more than normal in the past year. No matter the coping skills my therapist tried to teach me, no matter how many inpatient programs I tried, nothing worked. It's an impulse I can't stop, and I have no idea why. I don't want my body to look like this, but I did it to myself. It makes no logical sense and I despise myself for even starting this god awful habit in the first place. 14 year old me was really really messed up.
Eventually I got the courage to look at Quinn and gauge her reaction. She looked over the scars and I noticed a hitch in her breathing. A tear fell from her eyes as she leaned over and softly placed her lips on my shoulder. My whole body shuddered and went limp at the compassionate touch. Quinn grabbed my hand and pulled me back so that our backs were up against the headboard and we were under the covers. She pulled me into her arms and gently ran her fingers across the healed slits I had made on my skin.
Quinn let out a soft sigh and finally spoke up, "why do you do this to your beautiful body San? I'm not here to judge you, but I would like to understand."
"Because to me, it's not a beautiful body, never has been. I know you know how that feels, I just took a dumber route. The moment I did this to myself the first time, there was no going back. I've been hurting myself since I was 14 Quinn...but it only got worse after my family disowned me for being myself. I kinda disowned myself in a way too that day. The way things ended with Britt didn't help either."
"First of all, you're easily the most drop dead gorgeous person I know, even with the scars. Your scars are part of your story Santana. And your story isn't over. It hasn't even truly begun. You're only 23 years old and you deserve to live the life YOU want to live, not shying away from it because your father wouldn't approve."
I didn't say anything for a while after that. Quinn read that I needed a second and she just held me. I just let tears fall. She held me even tighter. After a while, she began humming the tunes to a few songs I recognized from performances in the choir room. As anxious as I was when Quinn showed up today, that all washed away so quickly. I haven't felt this safe and secure in years and I had forgotten what it felt like. Why did I avoid this reunion with my best friend for so long? It felt so cleansing to let out my emotions and feel valued and cared for, by someone other than a therapist who is paid to care.
"Quinn there's so much that has gone on in the last 5 years. There's even stuff that happened in high school that you don't know about. I'm terrified that you and everyone else will think of me different when you find out how I've been living. I put on an act for everybody back then. Now I'm just a pathetic, depressed, self-loathing, addict. Most of these feelings have loomed over my head for as long as I can remember. I'm not good at hiding them anymore."
Quinn tried listening, but one specific word Santana said stuck out to her the most, "addict? Santana are you on drugs?"
Here it comes. Here is where Quinn gets angry and yells at me for being so stupid and irresponsible.
I took a deep breath and sat up in bed and faced her. I'm so ashamed of what I have to confess that I couldn't make eye contact with Quinn.
As a distraction I reached out to her and started fiddling with her charm bracelet, "No not at the moment, but I was in and out of treatment a few years back. Almost died from a heroin overdose about 4 years ago now." I spent the next ten minutes explaining the story of that fateful day.
Flashback
I crave death. It feels like it's the only answer to fix every wrong turn I made in my life. When I woke up this morning, I started my day with snorting the last crushed up oxy that I had bought from a lady outside the 24 hour convenience store. I wasted the rest of the scorching July saturday guzzling a bottle of whiskey and contemplating taking my own life. I'm only 19, living in my car, with a growing addiction to alcohol and pain killers. I'm especially fragile today. I'm completely broke after having to buy pills on the street, and it's about that time of the day where the nausea creeps in and I need to score something else. So I, Santana Lopez, decided to try heroin for the first time. Cheaper, readily available on the street, all I had to do was figure out how to use a needle.
The high was nothing short of incredible, but that was short lived. I attempted to stumble into a 24 hour diner only seconds after injecting myself. I didn't even make it to the front door before I passed out cold and apparently began seizing in the parking lot. Everything went dark quickly. I woke up in a hospital a day later. I know it's easy to overdose on heroin. I just don't care. I think it was my intention to overdose honestly. It wasn't until I met eyes with my mother in the hospital that I realized just what I was doing to my life and the people who used to be in it. She traveled from Lima to San Francisco, which is where I had been for about a week before. If the doc hadn't somehow pulled my emergency contact and called her, my mother would still have no clue where I was, which really was how I wanted it.
"Santana oh my god mija, where the hell have you been? Are you okay?"
"Why are you here mom?" I responded in a soft labored tone. I wasn't really in the mood to talk about this.
"My daughter is in trouble; did you really think I wouldn't come?"
I pondered that for a second, because honestly, no I didn't think she would come. I had lost my relationship with my parents when I officially came out to them right after graduation. I had denied it whole heartedly to them when the smear campaign video came out the year before. I wasn't ready for them to see me like that yet. My father reacted horribly. I always knew he would, and so I purposely kept my relationship with Britt a secret until I was technically an adult. My father is an angry, abusive man who feels the need to control everything; including me and my mother. My mother was fiercely loyal to him, to a fault, even if it meant disowning me just because he said to. That made me just as angry as Britt's betrayal. I tried to hold back tears as I thought back to the last conversation I had with my parents; a fight of course. They had been letting me stay at home until I left for college, but that doesn't mean it was civil by any means.
I didn't know what to say to my mother in this moment, so I just laid there and stared at the ceiling.
"Santana, baby, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I have been searching everywhere for you for months. I moved out of your father's house mija. I've been eaten up with guilt since the day you left. I never should have chosen my marriage over my daughter. I was weak Santana, and I am so so sorry. I want to be in your life and I'm terrified that I'm too late and you already hate me. I love you so much my beautiful girl, and I miss you. Please, let me help you get through this."
I was overwhelmed. I want help. I don't want every day of my life to be as miserable as I feel. I was scared. Death was easier, wasn't it? What did it mean to ask for help from my mom? What kind of help is she even offering? A tear escaped as I get myself ready to admit something out loud to another human for the first time.
"Mami I hate myself. I don't want to live anymore." I had to force myself to keep going because I was losing it and my face was soaked with tears. I lifted the hospital bedding and pulled up my gown exposing the self-harm scars on my upper thigh. "I don't know how to help myself."
And with that, mom sobbed with me and repeated over and over again that she was going to help me through this and that everything was going to be okay.
--
Quinn stared at me intently when I stopped talking. In the short amount of time she's been back, I've learned that I can still read Quinn like a book. I completely freaked her out.