Santana awoke alone, and began to panic. She was alone in her hospital room. Her right arm was wrapped in a red cast, obviously broken, and she could feel bandages on her face. Everything that had happened the previous night came flooding back. She was reliving every thrust, every smell, every punch, and couldn't hold back the tears. Why had she been… god, she couldn't even think the word. Something like that only happened to drunk girls who dressed sluttily, right? She hadn't done that; sure she had been wearing her Cheerios uniform, but she hadn't been drunk.
It was late, and Santana was angry, so she had decided to take a walk. Sure, it was late, but she was angry and walking always seemed to cool her off a bit. Lima Heights wasn't the safest place to be walking around, especially late at night like she was, but she felt confident and carried herself the same way she did at school. No one messed with her at school, and no one sure as hell was going to mess with her tonight.
She turned a corner and walked past a bar that exuded drunken men. She rolled her eyes at the catcalls and advances that the men were making towards her. A man suddenly put his hand on her back, and leaned in heavily, whispering, "Hey baby." Santana about leapt out of her skin at the advance, but slowly turned to the man.
"Listen, slimebag, why don't you go back in that bar and finish up your drink?" she sneered at him, before turning away from him and continuing on her walk. She turned another corner, preparing to head back to her apartment.
"Hey!" the drunken voice shouted. "I was talking to you!"
"I'm not interested." Santana's heart was thumping loudly in her ribcage, but she fought to keep her body from betraying her fear. As she turned to face him, he struck out viciously with a paw-like hand, nailing her in the cheek. She stumbled backwards, and he was coming at her again, hitting her in the stomach and causing her to double over in agony.
"You dumb slut," he shouted. "You need to learn your place." He punched her in the face again, knocking her backwards onto the sidewalk. She struggled to get up but he was holding her down and scrambling at her skirt.
"No! Please don't do –"He forced a hand over her mouth. With a snarling smile on his face, he forced her skirt up and began unbuttoning his pants.
"Shut up." He began to pound into her, tearing her in half. She screamed again and again, but his hand remained over her mouth. She bit at his grubby fingers, causing him to yell out in shock and hit her again. "You bitch!"
He thrusted faster, but Santana was no longer there. Her body was there, her pain was there, but she was blocking it out, wishing it to be a dream. It had to be a horrible, horrible dream, and she would wake up from it eventually.
"Hey, sweetheart." A female doctor entered the room. "I'm Doctor Tayo, and I'm…" She faltered, seeing Santana sweating and shaking in the bed. She took a few steps toward the terrified Latina, making sure to keep her hands in front of her. "Santana, honey. I'm just here to examine you," she said quietly. Santana glared at the doctor, fear dripping from her eyes. "Santana, it's okay. No one's going to hurt you." The doctor touched Santana's leg, causing a jolt of fear to spike through her aching body.
"Don't touch me!" Santana shouted, jerking away from the doctor's touch.
"Santana, I promise you: I am not going to hurt you. I'm going to protect you. No one is ever going to mug you again."
Santana took a shuddering breath. "I-I-I wasn't mugged. He… r-…r-…" She couldn't even say the word. It would make it all real again. Doctor Tayo took a sharp breath, causing Santana to begin to cry.
"Santana?" the doctor said as softly as she could, her voice shaking with the pressure of what she was about to say. "Santana, were you… were you r-raped?"
The teenager in the bed, suddenly looking very small and very broken, locked her gaze at the doctor's, and nodded.