Yay! New chapter :)

Enjoy

When Santana returns home from her long, unplanned day at work, she is exhausted. But she knew her day wasn't over, yet and she knew there was only important thing to do.

Brittany had mentioned to her that she reminded Brittany of this girl in college. This girl who, according to the blonde, saved Brittany's life. Brittany was vague, otherwise, on how she actually got the scars and Santana wanted to know more. More importantly, Santana wanted to know what happened in her own accident because she wanted to see if anything came of it. Not that it will, but maybe… just maybe.

Wouldn't it be ironic if mine and Brittany's scars were linked? She wondered as she opens the door to her apartment.

Santana finds her sister, Makayla, sitting on the couch and reading a book.

"Hey San." She says, averting her attention to her sister. She smiles at Santana, but when Santana's blank expression doesn't shift, she knows something's up. "What's wrong?"

"I wanted to ask you about something. But you have to promise me, promise me that you will be 110% honest with me." Santana presses her fingers to her forehead. She knew what she was about to ask would be hard for Makayla.

"Anything for you, sis." Makayla replies with a smile on her face.

"I want to know about my accident," the Latina softly lets past her lips, "What happened?"

Makayla exhales sharply, fearing telling her sister. She's sheltered her for so long from it. "I'll tell you... But first, remember when we were young and you fell off your bike?" Santana nods. She had no idea what her sister was trying to get at, however. "Remember when we were in the hospital, you were getting stitches in your forehead, and I promised you from that moment on that I would protect you from anything or anyone who tried to hurt?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with my accident? Or more so, why you refused to tell me after it happened?" Santana questions.

"Because... I could never live with the fact that this was the one thing I couldn't protect you from... And it was the one thing that we almost lost you for." Makayla sets her book down and pats the couch, signaling for her sister to join her. Santana shuffles towards the couch, sitting a good distance away from her sister because she had no idea how this news was going to go. "You left for college; right after you graduated high school. You went up to Maine, for a few psychology courses..." Makayla pauses for a moment, "On February 19, you were in your psychology class. One of your classmates shot fire into the crowd and you got hit. That's where the scar on your ribs came from. You hit your head so hard on the desk or table or chair, I'm not sure what, that it put you in a coma. We flew you out to California with us and when you finally woke up, you had no recollection of the shooting. Mom asked me to keep it that way."

To say Santana was shocked was an understatement. To say she was mad her mom wanted this hidden from her was an understatement. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. She couldn't believe that this entire time, she thought she may have just gotten into a bad car accident or fallen off a ledge; but never this. So many questions were swimming through her head, but she just couldn't get them out. She sat there for a few minutes, muttering to her.

Makayla tries to comfort her sister, but Santana coldly jerks away from her, getting up from the couch. She paces around a few times, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"How many people survived?" Santana choked out.

"12 of the 25 students present that day..." Makayla replies softly, tears running down her face. "I'm so sorry that I never told you before... I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I feel like a horrible sister."

Santana stops pacing and faces her sister. "I forgive you, Makayla. I just need to be alone right now." She says, tears welling up in her eyes as well. She heads out of the living room and to her bedroom. She slams her bedroom door shut and she's about ready to punch a hole through her door. She jumps on her bed, face in her pillow, and she screams loudly. After a few minutes of just laying there with her face buried in her pillow, she grabs her laptop and opens Google. She needed to know more. She needed to know why.

She types in "Shooting in Maine, February 19." And hits enter. The first article she sees reads: "Shooting at UMaine leaves 13 dead and 12 wounded." The date of the post was February 20, 2009. Wait, didn't Brittany go to UMaine? She thinks before she clicks on the link and reads the article.

"On February 19, 2009 at approximately 2:38 PM, Trevor Johns, 20, opened fire into a classroom full of Psychology students. There were over 57 rounds fired until Johns turned the weapon on him and killed himself. Johns was a Psychology major. Johns was described by friends as an intelligent man. Reasoning behind the massacre is still unknown. He was armed with four guns; two assault rifles and two 9mm pistols. Johns murdered 12 students, 13 including himself, and wounded 12 others. A list of the deceased and the survivors is listed below." Santana's eyes widened. How could someone just open fire into a classroom full of students he surrounded himself with, some of which were acquaintances.

Santana scrolls down to the list of survivors and reads each of their names carefully.
Amanda Anderson
Oliver Benson
Devon Chamberlain
Paulina Chamberlain
Jade Ferguson
Ryan Fuller
Santana Lopez

Santana stopped as she saw her name appear right in front of her. Shit, she thought, this really happened. She continues to read the names of the other survivors.

Erin Larson
Samuel Maines
Brittany Pierce
Marley Rose
Oscar Villanueva

Santana cringed as she skimmed through the rest of the names. Then, she stopped and looked back up at one of the names that had caught her eye.

Brittany Pierce.

Santana lets out a giant sigh, letting the name ponder in her mind for a few seconds. She had no idea what Brittany's last name was, and this could just all be a coincidence; but it was something she needed to confirm. She opens a new window and types Brittany Pierce into the search engine. There were no related pictures under the image search, but there was a Facebook page under that name.

She clicks the link and her heart stops as she stares at the profile picture. Brittany Pierce was the girl that she saved from falling off the bridge. Santana now knew for a fact that Brittany was in that classroom at the same time she was. Maybe I did save her, but why would I have done that? She said that she never knew the name of the girl who saved her… why would a complete stranger save someone?

There was a light knock at Santana's door and she barely mumbled a 'come in'. Her sister entered the room holding a notebook.

"This was yours. It was a journal of some sort that you had when you went to UMaine. I think that you should have it… Maybe read through it and jog your memory." Makayla says somberly before setting down the notebook. "I love you, Santana." Makayla shoots her sister a soft smile and exits the room.

Santana stares at the notebook from a distance, wondering why they hadn't just gotten rid of it. She unwraps her arms from around her knees and reaches to grab it. She flips through the pages until she reaches the last one. The date on the page was 02/19/2009, the day of the shooting. Santana inhales sharply and closes her eyes before reading the entry.

02/19/2009

It's a few days after Valentine's Day, and I wish I had the courage months before this to do what I'm about to do today. There's this girl in my Psychology class, and she's absolutely beautiful. She sits behind me, and I can't help but look back and glance at her some days. I think that today in class, I'm going to ask her to be my friend. There's a probability this girl is straight; I mean, how could she not be? She has blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She always smiles in my direction, sometimes, when I look back. I've never talked to her; I don't even know her name. I just know that whenever I have a bad day, I can look at all of the happiness that radiates off of her person and just feel content. I know she's really smart, too. I always hear our professor give her compliments on her work. Maybe I can pull a Mean Girl act and pretend I'm really horrible at Psychology, just to ask the pretty girl for help. Nah, I think that I'll just start a conversation. Even if she is straight, it's good to have friends, right? It's time that I just break out of my shell and ask 4th row, 8th seat from the left to be my friend. I'm nervous, but I just have this gut feeling about her.

Santana finishes the entry and then everything starts to make sense. The girl Brittany was talking about… The way she described Brittany in this journal entry, why she would save someone she didn't really know; it all made sense, now. Brittany had always given her this feeling, this vibe. She couldn't keep away even if she wanted to.

XXXXXXX

I was suddenly awoken from my deep sleep on the living room to couch to frantic knocking on the front door. I groan and slowly push myself up and off the couch, looking around the living room and kitchen. There was no sign of anyone else in our apartment, and I figured they'd all probably gone to bed after we let Melanie stay up and play games all night.

The knocking gets louder and faster, and I slowly pace over towards the front door. I look out the peephole to see Santana, her hair in every which direction and her eyes were all puffy. I quickly unlock the door and open it, and she comes crashing into my arms.

"San… what's wrong?" I ask her soothingly.

"You… You… I… Me…" She stutters.

"What about you and me, San?" I'm growing concerned. She's weeping to God in fits, and her breathing is super uneven. I bring her into the house and sit her down on the couch. "San?"

"You were there… You were there when my accident happened…" Santana's gasping desperately for air. "I… I think I saved you."

My eyes grow wide. I KNEW IT. I FUCKING KNEW IT. Well, she did say she thought… so maybe I was just jumping to conclusions. "What do you mean, you think?"

Santana reaches into her back pocket and pulls out two sheets of paper, one from a notebook and one printed off of the internet. She hands me the sheet printed off from the printer and I unfold it. On the piece of paper were 12 printed names. I read all of them, and stopped at Santana's. I had never seen this list before; I didn't quite know what it was; that was until I reached my name.

"Is this a list of the survivors?" I ask Santana

"It is…"

"And you're Santana Lopez," I say to myself, remembering the day that she saved me from the bridge and told Quinn her name.

"And you're Brittany Pierce, aren't you?" She questions quietly, her voice choking.

"Yes…" I reply, my hand moving from rubbing circles on her back to rubbing my face. I can't believe this was happening. I can't believe that after all of these years, the girl that saved me, the one I dreamed about constantly, was sitting in front of me. "This is…"

"THIS IS FUCKING INSANE!" Santana exclaims, "I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT THEY KEPT THIS FROM ME. I… I CAN'T EVEN…"

"Shh, Santana, it's okay." I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer to me. "It's going to be okay. Just let it all out, okay?" And she does. She sits there and she cries in my arms for what feels like eternity.

It wasn't until I heard a door open that I shoot my head up from resting on her head to see Melanie rubbing her sleepy eyes and walking towards us.

"What's wrong with Santa?" Melanie questions.

"Santana's having a rough day, Monkey. Do you think you could go get mommy and tell her to come out?" Melanie nods her head and looks at Santana who is clutching tightly to my shirt.

"It's going to be okay, Sant-na." Melanie says walking closer to us. She pats Santana on the back and smiles, "You saveded Britty. Now Britty is going to make everything okay."

Melanie turns around and heads towards Quinn's room. We wait there for a few minutes and I can hear Santana's breath hitching every couple of seconds. I don't think I've ever seen anyone cry this much, and I don't know what to do to comfort her.

"Hey San… is everything okay?" Quinn's voice says softly.

"I… I don't… I don't," She sobs, trying to catch her breath, "I… Oh, God. Why?"

"Is it okay if Brittany tells me what's wrong?" Quinn watches Santana nod into my shoulder and then looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

"Everything you need to know… is on that sheet of paper on the coffee table." I sigh.

Quinn picks up the paper and starts reading the names out loud.

"No fucking way," I hear her mutter beneath her breath. "Shit…" Quinn joins us on the couch and gently pulls Santana from my embrace. "You were there, during the shooting?"

"I guess I was…" Santana replies, finally catching her breath as she stares at Quinn.

"What do you mean, you guess?" Quinn questions, therapist mode turning on.

"My sister… she kept this big secret from me," Santana explains, "The first thing I remember was waking up, and my sister telling me that I was in this huge accident, but she wouldn't tell me what it was. My parents wanted to keep it a secret from me and asked her to do the same. When I finally confronted her about it, today, she told me I was in a shooting… The thing I didn't know is that Brittany was there, too."

"How did you figure it out?" Quinn questions, and Santana looks away for a moment.

"The list of survivors was the first hint, but there could have been any girl named Brittany in my class… And since I didn't know Brittany's last name, I kind of assumed, but I didn't know until Makayla gave me this." She holds up the sheet of notebook paper. "It's a journal entry that I wrote the day of the shooting, I guess it was before class had started." She hands the sheet of paper to me, "I need you to read this… then it will all make sense."

I grab the sheet of paper and start to read. My eyes scan the page, reading every word slowly. My mouth is probably hanging open due to shock, but it wasn't until the last line, the last line that proved everything. It's time that I just break out of my shell and ask 4th row, 8th seat from the left to be my friend. I'm nervous, but I just have this gut feeling about her.

"4th row, 8th seat from the left…" I say out loud, "That was where I was sitting…"

"Then this probably explains why I tried to save you… You apparently caught my attention and I hoped that if we had both made it out of there alive, that we would be friends." Santana reasons.

"Do you believe me, now, Quinn?" I look towards my best friend and she lowers her head before nodding.

"I'm sorry that I doubted you, Brittany… but now that we figured out that you weren't joking and that you were right, we need to figure out where to go from here. You guys shouldn't let your past linger on you; we're in the here and now… and I think with what you both have had to have gone through, that you both will grow from this. I have no doubt that you guys will get through this mess… together."

Well, that's the chapter :) I hope you enjoyed it