Day 11 Part 2
Santana got up from her bed, ears straining to hear more. However, she couldn't hear anything. Was it a hallucination? Was she going crazy? She could swear she heard the front door open and close. She closed her eyes to focus more on her hearing.
She didn't know how she was feeling. She doubted that she was hallucinating since she had never hallucinated before and had no diagnosed mental problems. She was feeling a bit scared, as there was someone else in the house. As far as she was concerned, no one else was alive, so she had no idea who was in the house. This person could either be someone who had come to save her, or is the actual killer, in which case Santana had killed an innocent person. The thought of that made her want to throw up.
Suddenly dread washed over Santana. She had an idea of who it might be.
Mike.
Mike was never killed. He just escaped. If he could escape, he could always come back in.
Oh god. How could Santana be so stupid?
Mike was the killer. He escaped when it was only him and two other people left, making her and Sam suspect each other, fighting each other to the death. Then, when one killed the other, Mike would swoop back in for the final kill.
Santana was screwed. She was going to die at the hands of Mike Chang.
She needed something to protect herself with. She tapped at her body, her pockets with her frantically for the knife, but she felt nothing. Then Santana realised that her knife was still wedged in Sam's throat. She was defenceless.
But did Mike have anything to attack Santana with? He gave her his knife. Did that mean that he didn't have one? Santana thought for a short moment. Two knives had been stolen. Only one was found. Santana assumed that the unfound one belonged to the killer. Did this mean that Mike had two knives? So he was able to give Santana one, and then he would still have one left?
Suddenly Mike's note made sense. Best of luck. He was not just been referring to her fight to the death against Sam. He was referring to the inevitable fight against him.
Was that why Quinn was so hesitant in telling Santana who the killer was? Because she was betrayed? She really trusted Mike; she gave him the key to their room. Did Mike kill her?
But why Mike? What could his motive be? Mike was normally a very mild-tempered person, easy-going, calm, and collected. Santana could not imagine Mike killing anyone, let alone over ten people. It just didn't seem to fit his character.
She desperately looked around her, in pursuit of something that she could use against Mike. She really wished that she had had the courage to pluck the knife out of Sam's throat because then she stood a chance against Mike. But then she couldn't have known that Mike was the killer. She had been so sure that it was Sam the whole time.
But what if it wasn't Mike that was downstairs right now? Who else could it be? Whose dead bodies had Santana not seen yet? She never saw Puck's, Kurt's, Blaine's or Tina's. Maybe one of them faked their deaths? The most likely killer out of all of them is Puck. After all, he had attempted to kill Brittany on the day of his supposed death. What if the killer was Puck? It made a bit of sense. He invited all of them here to kill them all. And it was not too far a stretch to say that Puck went crazy and decided to kill everyone here. At least it was more plausible than Mike killing everyone.
Santana didn't know whether she'd rather Mike or Puck be downstairs. Both of them were in the school football team, meaning that they were both really strong and would easily overpower Santana. Puck was more buff, but Mike had more skill, as he was a dancer. Santana didn't really stand a chance against either of them.
She desperately rummaged through the shelves and drawers for anything that she could use. She couldn't find anything that would do crippling damage to whoever that was going to attack her. She was going to die. Santana's heart rate increased.
Maybe dying wouldn't be so bad. She would be able to see Brittany and Quinn again. If she made it out of here alive, she probably wouldn't be able to live with the guilt of killing Sam anyway, who she had now deducted to be innocent. Hopefully, her death was swift. She really hoped that she wouldn't suffer like Quinn did.
Her train of thought was interrupted as she heard quiet footsteps that gradually got louder and louder with every step. This meant that this person was walking up the stairs. With one last desperate attempt at protecting herself, she rummaged through the bedside table and luckily managed to find the keys to the room. She rushed to the door, slamming it shut and locking it.
Santana had never felt this scared before in her life. But realising that she was most likely going to die now got her heart pounding in her chest, cold sweat running down her neck, breaths getting short and rapid.
Was this how Quinn felt when she was taken by the killer? Cornered, helpless, petrified out of her mind?
Her vision seemed to pale as her pupils dilated, most likely from adrenaline and fear. What she could see also became a little hazy, but she could see the handle being turned. Luckily, the door didn't open.
Santana was holding onto the wild hope that the killer would not be able to break in here. Or they would just assume that there was no one in this room and move on, leaving Santana alone in peace and alive a little longer. Despite what her heart is desperately trying to tell her however, her brain was being rational and realistic. The killer had overcome every obstacle. They could pick locks, take people out despite them sleeping in shifts. Santana didn't stand a chance. Not by herself.
The door wasn't even getting picked. Santana could only watch in pure fear as she heard the lock turning.
Then the door opened.
Time seemed to slow down as the door revealed more and more of the person that was standing behind the door.
The first thing that Santana saw was blonde hair.
As more and more of the person's face was revealed, she widened her eyes. She instinctively took a step backwards. She stared at the person in front of her, making sure that her eyes were not deceiving her. The person seemed to be staring back into her mocha eyes intensely, with the deep cerulean eyes that Santana had loved for so long.
Brittany was standing before her.
Her cheeks were a bit pink, and she had a small bashful smile on her face.
Was this her ghost? Wasn't Brittany dead? What… just how?
Against her better judgement, Santana rushed forward and threw herself against the blonde, engulfing her in a huge hug. At first, Santana was afraid that she would just go through Brittany, but her hands wrapped around warm flesh.
This was definitely Brittany. Santana could smell her scent on her. She definitely felt alive. Brittany started to hug her back.
She pulled back for a little bit and held Brittany at arm's length.
"I-I thought you were gone," Santana breathed, a few tears of happiness and relief making its way out of her eyes.
Brittany looked a little sad and her eyes were glazed. "I was never gone," she whispered. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm so sorry, Santana."
Santana never saw what was coming. Her whole world went black.
Santana's state was a little difficult to describe. She was fluctuating between being awake and being unconscious. Imagine a calm ocean surface. This is what people are normally, dipping into the water occasionally under their own will. When they are submerged, they are asleep. When they are about to wake, their face pops out of the water surface, and they can go on about their day. When they are asleep they remain submerged under the calm surface, uninterrupted.
Now imagine some strong winds blowing upon the ocean surface, making tall waves. Santana was currently below the surface, as she was unconscious, but occasionally her head would pop up to the surface in the trough of the wave. She would be awake for a very brief moment before the peak of the wave pushes her back under again.
Her memory was really hazy as Santana dipped in and out of consciousness. They were disjunct. They didn't seem connected. All Santana could gather was the sound of crying. Yes, a lot of crying. Also a little bit of incoherent speaking. Santana managed to pick out the words "baby" and "sorry" and "can't", but she couldn't be sure.
She really wanted to wake up. She was screaming at her body to fight, pop her head up above the rocky ocean surface and stay there. But every time she managed to do that and gasp one quick breath of oxygen, the wave just sunk her back down. It was a perpetual cycle.
She was drowning. And she didn't know how to save herself.
Santana groaned as she felt as if her heavy eyelids were glued shut. She couldn't really open them, just yet. Her entire body felt so heavy. She tried to sit up straight from her rather uncomfortable position but quickly found that she couldn't. She managed to shift herself into a slightly more comfortable position, though, thankfully. She felt some hair over her face. She moved her hand to brush it away but found that she couldn't.
Santana's eyes opened, eyebrows furrowing a little in confusion. She recognised this place. Why was she in the lounge? She turned her head left and right and found that she was against a wall. She tried to stand up but found that she couldn't. She couldn't move her arms. She couldn't move her legs. She couldn't move at all.
Confused and slightly panicking, she looked down at herself. She was completely bound in a chair against the wall. She couldn't do anything. Her hands were roped together; they couldn't move an inch. She didn't know how to escape from this predicament. She had never been bound to a chair before in her life.
She had heard of people escaping from straitjackets before, but she felt that this was harder to escape from than a straitjacket. Whoever did this clearly knew what they were doing. The ropes clung painfully to Santana's skin. Santana wondered if this would kill her. They had to be cutting off blood supply to certain places of the body, right?
Then she remembered one thing before she blacked out.
Brittany.
Was she just a figment of Santana's imagination? Santana was pretty sure she wasn't. Santana didn't know how Brittany was alive, but she didn't question it right now. Brittany could help Santana out, if she wasn't also bound in another room, that is. The sheer thought of that made Santana's blood run cold. Was Brittany in danger? Santana would not let anything bad happen to Brittany. Not when she failed to protect her the first time around. She struggled harder against the ropes.
After a bit of time and a lot of effort, Santana managed to make no progress.
"Brittany?" Santana called desperately, hoping for a response. "BRITTANY!"
Some rushed footsteps could be heard before the door to the lounge opened and Brittany stumbled in, face flushed.
"Oh Santana, you're awake," Brittany rushed over to where Santana's chair was. She had a plate in her left hand. "Look, I made you some sandwiches," Brittany whispered, holding out one with her right hand. "Are you hungry?" Brittany furrowed her brows slightly in worry.
"No, not really," Santana replied. "Why can't I move? What is happening?" Santana started to panic. "Are you alright Britt?"
"Yeah, I'm good," Brittany sighed and looked down, setting the plate down on the table next to her.
"Okay, thank god," Santana said in relief. "Can you help me out?" Santana nodded to the ropes that were keeping her in the chair.
Brittany bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry, I can't do that."
Santana frowned. "Why not?"
Brittany closed her eyes and squeezed them tight. "Because I'm the one who tied you up in the first place."
A few seconds passed in silence. "W-What? Why did you do that, Brittany?"
"Look, Santana, I have a confession to make," Brittany sighed, looking like she was close to tears.
"What? You're scaring me, Brittany," Santana said, voice getting slightly louder.
Brittany reached behind her to retrieve two items. When she got them, she dangled them in front of Santana, making Santana's blood run cold.
The knife and the mask.
"N-No," Santana gasped. Brittany had a knife and a mask. Did that mean… that Brittany was the killer? "Britt, tell me that it's not what I think it is."
Brittany nodded sadly. "It is," her lower lip quivered and she tore her eyes away from Santana, unable to meet the brunette's eyes. She then turned and put the knife and the mask gingerly on the table behind her. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Santana." Her voice shook. "I'll tell you everything, and I mean everything, before it forces me to kill you. I-I don't want to kill you, Santana. I didn't want any of this," Brittany sniffed, then buried her head in her hands and started to sob quietly.
Santana stared at Brittany in front of her, shocked, unable to utter a word. Brittany, the sweetest and happiest girl alive, the person that Santana loved more than anything in the whole entire world, is guilty of murdering about ten people? A million questions spurred in Santana's head. What did Brittany mean by 'it' forcing her to kill Santana? How was Brittany even still alive? What? How? Why?
Brittany sniffed and wiped a few tears away with her sleeve. "Please say something?" Brittany whispered, leaning forward and brushing some hair away from Santana's forehead and tucking it away from her ear. There was so much pain in Brittany's beautiful blue eyes. "I don't care what, Santana. I'll tell you everything, I promise. Just say something, please," Brittany closed her eyes and gulped. "Even if it is that you hate me now."
"I-I don't understand," Santana stammered. "I…" Santana faltered, as coherent sentences failed to form in Santana's mouth.
"I'll tell you everything," Brittany said again, looking intently into Santana's eyes with her own glazed eyes.
Santana had a lot of questions. But the first one that came to mind was, "Did you kill Quinn?" Santana asked. Her tone was harsher and colder than she intended, but Santana didn't care. Please say no, Brittany, please say no.
"Yes," Brittany whispered. She started to weep again. "I did."
"Why?" Santana wailed, unable to comprehend what was happening right now. "Why did you do that? She trusted you! She confided in you!" Santana screamed, starting to get hysterical. She didn't know if she was angry or not. Her emotions were so heightened, so confusing, that Santana felt like she didn't know anything anymore. Her world turned upside-down and everything did a U-turn too many times over the past few days for Santana to keep track. "She told you that she was afraid to die! Why did you kill her? Why did you give her the most painful death? Why, Brittany, why?"
Brittany flinched at Santana's screaming. "Please," she whispered, a huge contrast compared to the volume of Santana's screaming. "I regret everything I did. I can't control myself. If I try I get punished."
"W-What do you mean, you can't control yourself? And what do you mean, you get punished?" Santana demanded, a tear making its way out of her eye. It wasn't wiped away, as she couldn't move her hands, and Brittany didn't dare get close to Santana.
"Santana, I haven't been telling you the whole truth," Brittany started.
Santana scoffed. "Yeah, no shit."
"I am not bipolar," Brittany looked down in shame. "Well, actually I am a little, but that's not the main reason why I have been taking my medication. I am severely schizophrenic. There are many things wrong with my head."
"S-Schizophrenic? Brittany, why didn't you tell me?" Santana cried.
"I didn't know how," Brittany said. "Sometime earlier this year, I started to hear voices in my head." Brittany inhaled and exhaled deeply, as if she couldn't bring herself to say what she was about to say next. "At first, they were kind. They were nice. I could talk to them. I liked it, actually. We would sometimes talk for hours when I was bored. We could engage in actual conversation."
Brittany cleared her throat. "But soon, those voices started to take a dark turn," Brittany continued. "They started to say bad things. Really bad things. They tell me to do things that I didn't want to do. I didn't know how to get them to stop. I tried shouting at them, begging them to stop, but they wouldn't. They told me to kill Lord Tubbington."
"No," Santana gasped. "You didn't," Brittany loved her cat to death. Was that why Brittany stopped mentioning her cat towards the end of Junior year?
"I refused at first," Brittany said. "I said that I was not going to do it, and they couldn't make me do anything that I didn't want to do. That was the first mistake I made. The voice in my head said that it was going to punish me. At first, I didn't believe it. I just ignored it and went on with my life."
Brittany inhaled sharply as if what she was about to say hurt her deeply. "The voice started to threaten me, saying that it would hurt me. I kept on ignoring it until it had enough. It punished me for the first time. It didn't last long, like ten seconds maybe, but in those ten seconds, I have suffered the worst pain I felt in my whole life."
Brittany shuddered. "The voice said that it was just a taster of what would happen if I didn't obey it. It became my master. I lived in fear of being punished again."
Santana didn't know what to say. She didn't want to interrupt. This was clearly really hard for Brittany to say. Brittany closed her eyes and breathed in deeply a few more times before she spoke again.
"I killed Lord Tubbington the next day. I was crying the whole way through it. When I finally killed Lord Tubbington, I felt a new sensation. It felt… uplifting. Enlightening. It was really scary. I would never feel things like this by doing something so horrible. That was when I knew that the voice in my head was gaining power."
"Eventually," Brittany started to wheeze. "It was able to take control of me. The old me, the me that you loved, took a backseat while the new me started to dominate my body. The new me is similar in some ways to the old me, like both versions of me love you to death, we both have a passion for dancing, share some personality traits. But the new me is murderous. It is a psychopath. The voice, or should I say demon or monster inside of me got so strong and merged with my personality so fluidly that I could no longer identify what was me and the voice anymore. We became one person."
Santana could not believe what she was hearing. This was too horrible, too haunting. This was sick.
"One day, I suddenly got the urge to kill people. I am really hoping that it was the voice telling me this, but I couldn't tell, so I don't know for sure. At first, I didn't know who to kill. Then I got the urge to kill everyone in the glee club. However, I never got the opportunity. I didn't want to get jailed or caught. So I waited. And waited. Until this opportunity, this vacation came up. I couldn't have been happier."
"The first few people, Artie, Finn, and Rachel, I killed were done with finesse. Because I wanted to try something new, something out of my comfort zone. I rigged the PlayStation so that Artie got electrocuted, as it made me feel smart. I poisoned a random drink and Finn got unlucky because I wanted to feel the adrenaline and the thrill of randomness. I slaughtered Rachel harshly because it was the demon inside me urging me on."
"By the fourth night that I killed, which were Kurt and Blaine, something jolted inside of me. I think that it was the old me or something. But I knew that something wasn't right. I would later realise that it was the old me fighting, fighting hard to defy the new me, and trying really hard to seize control. Night after night, I killed more and more people. I started to realise that the old me was starting to come back, more and more, stronger and stronger every night. By the time I killed Quinn, something changed inside me. I think it is the guilt of killing a close friend. I managed to kick the voice out, temporarily, and the new me disappeared, leaving the old me behind. This is when I fell back to where I was a few months ago. Just silly old me and the voice in my head," Brittany gave a mirthless chuckle. "The voice still had power over me, however. It was still able to threaten me, as it could still punish me. But, Quinn was the last person I killed."
To say Santana was shocked and surprised was a severe understatement. She was speechless. She didn't know how to feel about all of this, she felt like she didn't know anything anymore.
"S-So… how many people did the new you kill?" Santana whispered.
"Everyone that came here except Puck, you, Mike and Sam," Brittany said gravely. "I killed eight people."
Santana blinked back tears. How was this so messed up? "Which one are you right now?" Santana asked fearfully.
"I'm the old me right now," Brittany smiled tearily. "I know that we are the same person in a way, but just so you know, the old me has never killed anyone. I would never. I've fought so hard against the voice so that it doesn't take control again. It's getting really close though, to taking control of me again. I just want to tell you everything before the new me comes back. If the new me doesn't come back, the voice still can and will make me kill you, Santana, or it will punish me. I r-really don't want to kill you, Santana," Brittany started to sob again.
Santana sighed. She was just so confused. Should she let Brittany kill her, and spare Brittany from her punishment, or should she convince her to let her go and they could find help together? Brittany was being tortured by herself. Santana believed her. The Brittany she knew would never do any of this.
"Britt," Santana said softly, and Brittany stopped sobbing momentarily. "I don't blame you."
"P-Please don't hate me…" Brittany blubbered. "I-I don't know what to do! I don't know…"
It hurt Santana to see Brittany like this. She wanted to make one thing clear. Maybe ask her another question before anything else happened.
"Britt… I don't hate you… at all," Santana said slowly, and Brittany looked up into Santana's eyes with a little sparkle of hope. "Tell me this, though. I really thought you were dead. Did you fake your death?"
"Y-yeah," Brittany chuckled a bit, wiping at her eyes. "It was quite an ingenious idea, actually. I'm not proud of anything I did over the past two weeks, but given the circumstances, I was somewhat proud of this one. It made me feel really smart."
"How did you do it?" Santana asked curiously.
"Well, I set up an ice-cold bath. Then I got in, with clothes and all, to make it seem like it was someone else who put me in. The point was to make my body temperature drop and my skin colour to take on a pale blue tinge so that it was believable that I was dead. I held my breath and submerged myself in the water when I heard someone coming. It happened to be you, Santana. You dug me out and I tried to stay completely still, and breathe as quietly and as little as I could. It broke my heart to hear how you reacted, Santana. I really wanted to just give up on my plan and just hug you and kiss you when you were just crying over me. But I didn't want to be punished again, so I didn't. Mike carried me out and threw me with the other bodies," Brittany explained.
"I always knew you were a genius," Santana somehow mustered a smile in these circumstances. "What happened to the bodies? When I took Quinn there they weren't there anymore."
"I moved them," Brittany said. "I feared that someone would come and see my body missing. So I hid them in the garage."
"S-So what did you do all this time? When I thought that you were dead?" Santana asked.
"I just hid," Brittany mumbled. "Sometimes eavesdropped on you guys' conversations. That's how I knew that Mike was escaping and also I heard what you and Quinn said to each other when you found that I 'died'. Quinn was such a good friend."
"Yeah, she was," Santana sighed.
"I'm so sorry, Sanny. I really shouldn't have killed her."
"Don't apologise to me, Britt. Apologise to Quinn."
Brittany nodded meekly.
Santana sighed. The two girls didn't say anything for a short moment.
"I'm going to untie your hands, Sanny," Brittany finally said. "They look really uncomfortable." Brittany got up and started working on the ropes where Santana had her hands tied. It took a while for Brittany to finally do it, but when she did, Santana was able to move her hands again.
Her arms screamed in satisfaction and gratefulness at them being able to move again, and Santana shook them a bit to relieve the pain and tension that they had been feeling.
"Um, do you want some food?" Brittany asked tentatively, gesturing to the sandwiches that she made on the table. "I know that my food tastes horrible, but, um, I just thought that you haven't really had anything to eat lately and you might want something."
"Yeah, okay," Santana sighed, and Brittany handed her a jam sandwich with a small smile.
"Do you want something to drink?" Brittany asked.
"What is there?" Santana said.
"Um, not much," Brittany blushed. "But I can make you some fresh lemonade."
"That would be nice," Santana mustered up a small smile, and Brittany nodded, leaving the room.
Santana started to munch on her sandwich. Now that she was alone in the lounge, and still very much bound to the chair, she had a chance to process all that she had learnt just now. She didn't even feel angry that Brittany was the killer anymore. She just felt… sorry for her. Brittany was going through so much pain right now. Obviously, that didn't justify what she did, as technically it was still Brittany who killed all the people, but Santana didn't blame her anymore.
Was Brittany going to kill her now? Santana didn't really know what she wanted. She didn't want Brittany to suffer even more pain by convincing her to not kill the brunette. But Santana also didn't want to die. Not when escape and a future was just around the corner.
She could convince Brittany to let her go, and she would get Brittany help, and Brittany will eventually get better and the voice inside her head would leave. Then Santana and Brittany can get married and have a normal life.
Well, as normal as life could be, without Quinn, and with PTSD from both Brittany and Santana.
Brittany will feel so guilty for killing eight people. Santana feared that Brittany would not be able to live with it.
Brittany came back into the room with a glass cup in her hand. When she reached Santana, she gave her a small coy smile and held the cup out for Santana to take. Santana did, and when she took a cautious sip, she was surprised by how good it was. Then she realised that she could've just made a horrible mistake, fell for the oldest trick in the book.
"It's not poisoned," Brittany whispered as if she read Santana's thoughts, looking a little hurt. "Don't worry, Santana."
Santana nodded and took another sip.
"Do you like it?" Brittany asked, insecure.
"Yeah," Santana replied. It was true. Santana didn't realise how thirsty she was until she had a taste of Brittany's lemonade.
Santana watched Brittany in silence as she ate. Brittany seemed to be focusing on something. Her face looked conflicted as if she was arguing against herself. Judging by what Brittany just told her, that was probably true. She was her old self right now, the sweet, innocent one, and she is doing all she can to keep control from the demon inside of her.
Brittany's face suddenly changed and she glanced up to meet Santana with a teary gaze. "I-I don't know what to do, Santana. I really don't want to kill you…" Brittany started to sob again. "I c-can't… I won't…"
Santana watched as Brittany continued to struggle. "No!" she shouted, to no one in particular. "I won't! You can't make me!"
A few seconds.
"Shut up! Shut up! No! You don't get a say anymore!"
A few more seconds.
"Go away! Leave me alone! Please! I beg you!"
Santana didn't know what to do. She didn't know how she could help.
Brittany was struggling right in front of her. Santana had never felt so helpless.
After a while, Brittany seemed to recover momentarily and she turned her eyes back onto Santana. "Tell me what to do, Santana," Brittany pled. "Tell me not to kill you. Tell me that you want us to get out of here."
Should she? The prospect of Santana getting killed was not very appealing to the brunette, but would Brittany get 'punished' again? It hurt Santana more to see Brittany hurt than hurt herself. But she shouldn't succumb to Brittany's demons just yet. Brittany was strong enough. She would hold them off while they go and get help. Brittany will be fine. Everything will be fine.
"Untie me, Britt," Santana requested. "We can get out of here. You have the key to the front gate, right?" Brittany nodded. "We will get you help, Britt. You will be back to normal. Maybe sometime in the distant future, we can get married and start a family, just like you said. We can grow old together."
"That sounds really good," Brittany chuckled. "Are we going to have lady babies?"
"Lots of them," Santana promised. "We will both have successful careers. We will get rid of your demons, the voices in your head. You can be a teacher and I'll be a lawyer. We'll have lots and lots of sexy times, okay?"
"That sounds amazing," Brittany closed her eyes. "I really want to have a life with you, Santana."
"Me too, Britt," Santana whispered. "Me too."
Brittany looked a bit apprehensive. "I'll untie you, okay?"
Santana nodded as Brittany tentatively moved forward and started to undo the knots that tied Santana's legs to the legs of the chair. Then she moved onto the ropes that wrapped around Santana's waist. It did take a while, but eventually, Santana was free. Brittany took both of Santana's hands with hers and helped her to her feet.
Suddenly, Brittany's face turned into one of pure horror. "It's back," she whispered to Santana, voice panic-stricken, eyes wide. She saw the knife that was lying on the table. She quickly grabbed it and thrust it into Santana's hand.
"Whatever happens, don't get close to me, do not let me have the knife," Brittany warned before she backed away and got as far away from Santana as possible in the lounge.
Brittany was curled up in a ball in the corner, hands over her ears. "Why are you doing this to me?" Brittany whimpered. Her back was turned to Santana, so the brunette couldn't see the blonde's expression, but she imagined it to be contorted in anguish and pain.
"Please stop!" Brittany howled. "Leave me alone! Please!"
Brittany paused. Santana guessed that this would be the time that the voice was talking to her. It was a bit like watching someone talk on the phone, really. There would be these pauses where the person talking on the phone would be listening to whatever the other one is saying. Santana really wanted to know what was going through Brittany's head.
"You're not real! Shut up!" Santana could see Brittany's muscles tense. "You can't make me do something I don't want to do! Not anymore!"
Another few seconds. Santana didn't know what to do. She didn't want to get close, she didn't know what Brittany would do if she tried to help her. She was scared.
"No! Don't hurt me! I beg!" Santana could hear the sob and sheer desperation in Brittany's voice.
The next few seconds chilled Santana to the bone.
"Ah!" Brittany screamed. "Ah!" Her body uncurled and she was lying flat on her back. Santana could see Brittany's face from here. It was completely scrunched up, and she could see beads of sweat on her forehead. "Stop! AH!" Brittany shrieked as her body started to writhe uncontrollably. "No! Please!"
Was this one of her 'punishments'? How was it even possible for her brain to register pain that wasn't there?
Eventually, Brittany's pain seemed to cease. She laid on the floor, spent, panting, chest heaving, tears rolling down the side of her face. Santana started to move to get by her side and try and help her, but then Brittany started to scream again.
"No!" she shrieked defiantly. "I'm not killing Santana! I love her! No! You can't make me!"
Then her punishment seemed to come again. Brittany's gut-wrenching screams came again, and Santana started to cry at the torture that was coming upon her girlfriend.
After what seemed like an eternity, Brittany's screams stopped and she lay there, gasping and weeping. She seemed to recover and sat up against the wall.
"Ugh," she groaned. "It's gone… for a short while at least…" Brittany seemed to be spending a lot of energy to speak. It was incredibly strange and upsetting to see Brittany like this.
Santana nearly sprinted to Brittany's side and crouched down in front of her. There was sweat all over Brittany's face, and a few wet strands of blonde hair clung to her face. Santana gingerly removed them and tucked them behind her ear.
"Please tell me how I can help…" Santana gasped, wiping the sweat away from Brittany's face with her thumb. "I don't know what to do…"
Brittany looked at Santana with tired, teary eyes. "Kill me, please…" she croaked.
"What?" Santana squeaked. "No! Brittany, there has got to be another way. We'll get out of here, we'll get you help, we can grow old together! Please…"
"No…" Brittany managed a sad smile. "It's really, really mad at me," Brittany sighed. "I've managed to make it go away, but it will be back soon. I can't hold on any longer. It will just keep on punishing me. I don't want to get punished anymore… it hurts so much…"
"Brittany…" Santana sobbed.
"It won't stop until it's satisfied…" Brittany said. "And that's you dying, Santana. I don't want to kill you… please save yourself by killing me… please, I beg you," Brittany closed her eyes and a tear came out. "It's my final wish Sanny… if not for yourself please do it for me?"
"Britt," Santana choked. "There has to be another way. There must be!"
"No," Brittany sighed, resigned. "Tell me this Sanny, do you still love me?"
"What kind of question is that?" Santana wept.
"I'm a psychopath, Santana. I killed eight people. All I do is cause people pain. How can you still love me?" Brittany gasped and she started to weep even louder. "Oh God, you don't love me anymore. No…"
"Britt," Santana cupped Brittany's face with her right hand. "I still love you. I love you unconditionally. No matter how messed up anything is, I will always love you."
Brittany blinked out tears and their eyes met in the most intense form of eye-contact that they had ever experienced. They felt like they were tethered by an invisible string, the string that will bind them close together for eternity. They were made for each other. They were destined for each other.
Brittany leaned forward and captured Santana's lips in the most tender, and intimate kiss that either of them had experienced. All the emotions that the two girls were feeling were put behind the kiss, the love that they had felt for each other that lasted for so long that it started before they even knew love was, all the history that had transpired between the two girls, all the ups and downs, were put into the kiss, and Santana was sure that she had not felt anything this powerful before.
The kiss didn't last long enough for either girl's liking. Brittany pulled away, and with a tearful smile, reached for Santana's left hand.
Santana didn't know why Brittany was doing that, but she realised that she had made the biggest mistake of her life when she still had the knife clutched in her left hand.
Brittany grabbed Santana's wrist, lifting it, and thrust it straight into her stomach.
Brittany let out a strangled cry as the knife penetrated through her abdomen, making so much blood come out.
"No!" Santana cried as Brittany's blood started to soak her shirt. "Brittany, why?" Santana didn't want to take the knife that was still wedged in Brittany's stomach out, as she had heard that it would damage the wound even more. Also, the knife could act as a barrier to stop the blood flowing. Her mind racing to the first aid that she had been forced to learn when she was younger, she took off her shirt and instantly pressed the fabric onto Brittany's stomach, trying desperately to stop the torrent of blood that was flowing out like a waterfall.
Brittany's breathing became short and ragged. "No, San," she gasped, wincing as Santana pressed the fabric to her abdomen. "It's n-no use." She then squeezed her eyes shut, face contorting in pain. "Oh, God."
"No…" Santana cried loudly. "Britt!" Her voice cracked. "No… we can still get out of here, Britt. Just, um, hold on, okay?" Santana tried her best to not sound hysterical, but she was failing badly. "I'll get you help, okay? You'll be fine. We'll be fine."
"It's okay, San," Brittany croaked. Then a wave of pain seemed to hit her and she winced again. "I deserve it."
"No!" Santana shouted. "Do not say that Brittany Pierce! You do not deserve it! You do not get to die on me! Fight! Come on, don't you want to live?"
"I d-don't deserve… to live," Brittany wheezed, losing energy with every passing second. "P-Promise me that y-you will live your life… become a lawyer… the world's h-hottest lawyer…" Brittany chuckled a bit, then coughed out some blood.
"Britt…" Santana sobbed.
"W-We won't g-grow old together in this life, Sanny…" Brittany smiled softly. "Maybe in… another one…"
Brittany's eyes closed for a short while, and Santana panicked.
"No! Wake up! Brittany!" she shook Brittany's shoulders violently.
Brittany opened her eyes wearily again. "P-promise me… y-you will find love… forget me… live y-your life…"
"Britt…" Santana sobbed.
"Promise me," Brittany persisted.
"I p-promise…" Santana said reluctantly. Brittany closed her eyes for a second or so, then opened them again, just barely.
Brittany coughed weakly, some blood coming out of her mouth. "T-Tell me you love me… one l-last time…"
"I love you, Brittany," Santana said instantly, weeping, voice shaking tremendously. "I love you so much…"
Brittany seemed satisfied with that answer, for she gave a smile that reached her eyes. "M-may we meet again, Santana, in a-another life. I love you too…"
With that, Brittany's eyes closed one last time and her head slumped to the side.
"N-no," Santana choked, shaking Brittany's shoulders again. "Wake up! God, please wake up!" Brittany limply shook from side to side, not responsive at all. "No!" Santana whimpered. "No! Brittany! Brittany…" Santana's voice trailed off as she broke off into uncontrollable sobs. Santana grabbed Brittany's shoulders and hugged her close, Brittany's head resting on the brunette's shoulders.
Santana continued sobbing, stroking Brittany's back with her right hand, Brittany's long, luscious blonde hair with her left.
Santana lowered Brittany's body gingerly into the large hole that she dug in the back garden. She planted one last kiss to Brittany's lips, then started to shovel the soil into the hole, gradually covering Brittany's body, layer by layer.
It took Santana quite a lot of effort, to dig the hole and bury Brittany completely, but it was completely worth it. Brittany was worth everything to Santana.
"Rest in peace, Brittany," Santana whispered, placing a single white rose above the now covered hole in front of her. "A lively and innocent soul, taken too early." Santana wiped a tear from her cheek. "Thank you so much, for teaching me to be brave. Teaching me to be myself. Teaching me how it feels to love. I love you so much, Brittany. You will always live on in my heart."
Santana took a deep breath, then stated with the most reverence and respect:
"I promise you that I will live my life."