(Santana's POV)
I stumble through the streets of New York. All the pain I was feeling all over didn't matter. All that mattered was getting away from him, through the blood that was trickling down my face I could see the familiar glow of the neon sign. I make it up the stairs to their loft. I start pounding on the door. I hear footsteps coming from the other side as my eyes begin to get heavy. I see the door get open and before I see who answers I pass out.