"Santana…we don't have to…kill her," Rachel's voice spoke up again hesitantly after a long pause, and she took a breath that was both audible and visible, releasing it slowly before taking a slow step towards the girl herself, trying to meet her eyes at last. "We don't. We don't even have to hurt her. We don't want to have to do that, no one does, I promise. We could just…find something to tie her up with, maybe. I don't know what, but…maybe we can make something. Or…or we could just put her in the bathroom with some food, and…lock the door, and put stuff in front of it so she can't break out. It would be okay like that, wouldn't it? She couldn't hurt us but we wouldn't be hurting her either. We could do that, and it would be okay…right?"
"No," Santana's reply was flat, immediate, and very decisive, occupied with a short but swift shaking of her head, even as her hand gently smoothed over Brittany's cheek. "You won't do that to her. She can't even sit up, Rachel. You won't leave her in there alone because you're too afraid to help her. If you want to lock her up in there, you lock me in there with her too."
"Santana, don't be ridiculous," Quinn started, exhaling with more exasperation in its sound than Rachel's hand, and Puck showed even less patience, unclinching his hands long enough to spread both arms out towards her so rapidly Santana tensed, seeming to think he was going to try to hit her.
"No, she wants that, let her do it. She wants to lock herself up with someone who's going to turn into a homicidal psycho any second now, she wants to be the first one to go down? Fucking let her, Quinn, why is anyone arguing? She wants it, let her, but just get the ticking time bomb away from the rest of us!"
"Puck, stop it. You're not helping," Quinn leveled a pointed look at him as she spoke through her teeth, and she heaved another sigh as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Santana-"
"Santana…sweetie," Rachel was trying to talk to her too, moving closer, but with three of the four others having moved in towards her now, Santana was on high alert, sitting up as straight as she could on the couch while still clutching Brittany, her eyes darting between each of them as though trying to think through her options of escape. "Santana, we can't let you be trapped with her where we couldn't help you if you needed. You know that. We can't let you be hurt, or in danger..."
"I'm not afraid of her!" Santana shouted. Her face contorted briefly, and she appeared to be blinking hard against tears, her throat working as she swallowed, then her cheeks growing red. "I don't care, I don't give a shit what happens to me, I DON'T CARE! I'm not leaving her alone, I will NEVER leave her alone with this! She's sick and she needs me, she needs someone to be with her and I will NEVER force her to do this on her own! You're all cowards, you all talk about love and family and you're fucking abandoning her, you're talking about KILLING her, don't tell me how much you fucking love her or how much you love me, you're all leaving her alone when she needs you the fucking most! You don't know she'll hurt ANYONE, what if she has the type where she'll try to hurt herself, then what?! Then you'd just lock her up in there alone where she could break the mirror and…and…" her voice cracked then, and a few tears did spill over, making tracks down her cheeks, but Santana, if she noticed, didn't acknowledge, pushing past her tears to continue, her voice just as harsh as before. "She'd hurt herself in there and you would be too fucking scared for your own asses to help her. You'd rather she hurt herself then your own ass be in any danger. You would just let her fucking kill herself if it meant you would be safe."
No one responded to this; no one would even meet her eyes. As the silence stretched out before them, it became more and more clear that what she was saying must be perfectly true, because for what other reason could they go so long without saying a word?
Disgusted, infuriated, Santana released a long, slow breath, biting down on the inside of her cheeks until she tasted blood, and her voice was hoarse when she spoke again, but no less full of feeling.
"I fucking hate you, I hate every single one of you. Don't come near us. If you want to be so fucking safe, go lock your own selves in the bathroom and leave us the fuck alone."
"Maybe we should," Rachel said quietly after a few more moments of silence, briefly licking her lips as she looked from the closed bathroom door to the two figures still huddled on the couch. "I mean…we'd be safe, and if Brittany needs help, Santana could help her. Maybe that's what we should do."
"No," Quinn said firmly, shaking her head. "No, because you know what will happen, Rachel, you said it yourself. If she needed protected from Brittany we couldn't help her."
"That would be her choice!" Puck exclaimed, "Let her fucking make it! If she wants to die, don't' try to talk her out of it, but don't make it where none of the rest of us have a choice either! You want us safe, then do what needs to be done! You want Santana safe too? Then lock Brittany in the bathroom, or better yet, throw her out in the hall with the others like her and leave her to join them, that's what we should have done in the first place, the second she started getting sick!"
"Don't you dare!" Santana screeched, but this time, Puck's threats were not idle discussion.
As he strode forward, grabbing at Brittany's shoulders and attempting to force her out of Santana's grasp, Santana continued to scream as though she rather than Brittany were being pulled at or physically harmed. For several seconds she and Puck scrambled to be the one to have hold of her, each maintaining harsh, desperate, and likely bruising grips of the limp girl between them, not willing to give up their hold as they fought to be the one to have control of her. All the while Puck was shouting close to Santana's face, and Santana was screaming and swearing at the top of her lungs, her face vivid with color and feeling, eyes wild as she struggled against a man nearly twice her size to keep him from taking Brittany away.
It seemed that this battle was going to get ugly fast. Although neither Puck nor Santana had hit each other yet, as this would mean letting go of their hold of Brittany to be able to do so, the others were certain that this was coming. Santana would slap Puck or claw at his face, and it was likely he would hit her back, maybe hard enough to genuinely hurt her. It was because of this fear that Quinn and Rachel inserted themselves into the mix, each latching on to one of the two as they tried to drag them apart. Quinn grabbed Santana's upper arms, Rachel wrapped her arms around Puck's waist, and in between them all still was Brittany, being tugged back and forth in opposing directions and still showing absolutely no reaction to any of their presence, no signs of pain at the rough way that they were handling her body. The two girls were trying to talk over Puck and Santana too now, raising their voices above them, and all had by this point nearly forgotten the sixth person in the room, the one who had remained silent in the corner, not adding any input whatsoever, nor being asked for it, until he nearly screamed over all of them, his voice cracking.
"They hear you…stop it, you have to stop it, they hear you!"
Rachel and Quinn pulled back almost immediately as they looked towards where Kurt crouched on the floor apart from all of them, hands over his ears, rocking back and forth slightly, holding himself in such a position that he seemed to be trying to expose as little as his body as possible, to protect himself from attack. As the two girls started hissing orders for Puck and Santana to stop, to shut up and listen, they were gradually able to reign themselves in enough to do so- and immediately froze when they began to hear.
There was something, or someone outside the door, pulling at the doorknob, rattling it and scrabbling at the wood of the door. There was someone outside, someone not speaking, but seeming determined enough to get inside, and as they listened, horror arose anew inside their hearts.
If those people had weapons- and they very well could, it would be not only likely but almost expected- they could get inside the door within minutes. If those people were intent enough on coming inside, there was absolutely nothing they could do to stop them, and nothing they could do to protect themselves.
