Prev: Kurttany Now: Brittana Next: Sue/Sue
14 Reasons I Love You
12. Live for the present, right? That's what you taught me. Take as much out of the now, as much as you can...and, I guess, love for the present too.
Clang!
The jailer sneered as he pulled his key out of the lock.
"Hey, feisty," he sneered, his drooling, disgusting face pressed to the space between the bars, "We got a new plaything for you."
Santana turned around and fixed him with a devastating glare.
The jailer shrank back before mustering up his spite again. "Heh heh heh. Bring 'er in, boys!"
The 'boys', joking and laughing and spitting, manhandled a girl into Santana's little cell. Her blonde hair was dank with dirt, and she mumbled things that didn't make sense.
"You-" Santana locked gazes with the jailer, who smirked.
"Yeah, we used her till we broke her spirit. It was fun, too." He spat on the ground. "Now all she says is crazy things. You two oughtta get along real well."
"Filck you too," Santana hissed.
"That an offer? Cain't accept, though," the jailer said, grinning wider, a stream of drool leaking out the side of his mouth. "Ain't my turn 'til the end of the month."
Santana growled at him, then picked the blonde up and laid her gently on the lower bunk. It hadn't been empty until two days ago, when her previous roommate Quinn had found she was pregnant.
She'd been dead by dawn, flogged over and over by the jailers to 'get rid of the baby'.
Filckers. Filck 'em all.
The cell had gone dark and light and dark and light four more times before Santana found out her new roommate's name was 'Brittany'.
She'd lost count of how many dark and light times it had been before Brittany could sing to her and not at the walls.
"Brittany, Brittany, docks and whey, candlelight flicker, candlelight stay," Brittany whispered, her eyes gazing past Santana, but at least facing her by now. Santana held Brittany's hand in both of hers.
Some days she wished she were just as bonkers as Brittany, so she'd get out of this nightmare. But if she went that far, who'd make sure that Brittany ate? Who'd make sure she drank enough of the foul water, enough to keep her alive?
"Today's a saint day, saints are for today, are you a saint? Today's a saint day..."
"Today's a saint day..." Santana echoed, quietly. She knew that little sing-song song as well as her own name now, everyone on their cell block row did. Brittany sang it a little louder than she did everything else, and it freaked the guards out to no end. So all the ladies sang it, when it came to their time with the 'boys', and the jailers would go a little easier on them. Mebbe it meant something, to the outside, Santana didn't know or care. Her father and mother were dead now, right, thanks to the new 'liberator' who took over from Sue Sylvester, and they were hostages for a reason.
She didn't want to know how the Fabrays would take the death of their daughter and grandkid.
"Today's a saint day, saints are for today, are you a saint? Today's a saint day..."
It was hard, in that there prison, real hard not to give in to despair. Santana'd managed it time and time before waitin' for the jailers to take their turn wi' her, then tryin' to send as many of them to the infirmary as possible. Course, now they started threatenin' Brittany, she had ta stop, but then she was livin' for Brittany and tryin' her hardest not to break down. But every so off'n Brittany'd do somethin' that keep Santana smilin' just a little for days. Like the first time she held Santana's hand on her own, or the first time she ate on her own, jist a little bit, first time she smiled at Santana, first time she called her 'San' an' started talkin' to her about her life but in dribs and drabs and rhymes and song.
Santana knew after a while that Brittany was an only chile. She told Brittany, too, of her bein' one of tons of kids and cousins, brothers and sisters. Santana kept holdin' conversations with Brittany even though midway through Brittany's eyes would go unfocused and she'd sing that little ditty agin, the one about the saints. Brittany'd seem happier when Santana sung it with her, so Santana did it until she could sing it in her dreams and sometimes she did.
Ev'ry time Brittany talked a little longer with her Santana would get a thrill deep in the pit of her stummick, like tingly, like what she'd feel when she sat on her legs too long, but in her stummick. Times were when she wanted to bed Brittany too, 'cept that it were a bit wrong, sleepin' with someone mind-touched. Felt like...what the jailers did to all of 'em. Weren't pretty. Santana couldn't bring herself to. But, gods and goddesses listenin', she really did want to.
Santana was watching the corridor, waiting for the jailers to come for her, when she saw a boy being forced up the metal stairs from the ground floor. His eyes were red and his jaw was gritted shut, his hair a mess across his face, and across his bare chest the word 'sodomite' was branded into him.
Brittany, sitting beside her, half-rose to her feet. Her eyes came wide, and she whirled so fast she toppled. Santana was out of her position in a flash, catching Brittany in her arms. Normally so relaxed, Brittany was tense under her, and she fought to get back, to press her face to the bars.
"Today's a saint day," she sang, her voice hoarse and straining to be louder, "-saints are for today, are you a saint? Today's a saint day-"
She spun her head and almost toppled, her legs shaking, but she was holding onto the bars and stayed upright. Santana held her from behind, supported her, laid her head on Brittany's bony shoulder.
"Help," Brittany whispered, her voice hoarse and her eyes focused, and Santana jerked, shocked.
"Today's a saint day," Brittany sang, and Santana licked her own lips. (Not Brittany's. She meant, she wanted to but Brittany was...focused now, concentratin' on somethin', even if she didn't seem mind-touched no more)
"Saints are for today," Santana joined her, louder. Speaking it. She tried to make eye contact with the girls sitting across from them, their heads down and despairin'.
"-Are you a saint?"
"We're gonna put dis boy with the coffee girl," one of the jailers said audibly, his voice echoing over the prison. "Dunno why they keep her alive and fed, she's too fat fer me."
"Hey, I likes a little cushion for the pushin'," the other 'boy' said, "It's my reward for workin' here. Mighty few out there in the hard times."
"Psh, but you're weird, boyo."
"You're one ta talk."
"This one for Jesse?"
"Hells yes. He likes 'em boys little."
The 'little boy' struggled, but the two jailers held him fast.
At last one of the girls looked up, locked eyes with Santana, then Brittany. Her eyes went wide, and she rose to her feet and clutched the bars, her smock all dirty white. She mouthed the words, and her roommate came with her.
All along the platforms, the girls came to stand at the bars and echo Brittany, and something low in Santana's body came to life, all fiery and flickers, lookin' at Brittany barin' her teeth, all fierce like the tigresses she'd saw in the shops at market-time.
"Today's a saint day," Santana chanted, hoarse and sibilant, and she could feel Mercedes' powerful voice from eight cells across sing it, wrap it around them and make it real strong.
"-Saints are for today," Santana chanted, and the boy looked up, his gaze startled, hair falling into his eyes.
"Are you a saint?" the boy mouthed, his eyes wide and glad. Brittany poked her tongue out at the boy and then she turned and her eyes saw Santana, really saw her for the first time, an' an arm crept around Santana's waist. Then mebbe it went a little lower, but Santana was pretty shocked already.
The flickers in Santana's stomach flared, until she was warm like it was summer, 'cept it was autumn goin' to winter.
"Today's a saint day..."
The jailers holding the boy looked at each other, and hastened their paces, their mouths workin' and sweat comin' to ooze out.
Kurt stumbled between them, his mouth already forming the familiar words, until the bars were tossed aside and he got flung into a cell with a powerful black woman like his teachers used ta be, and the jailers were hightailing it outta there after lockin' the gate.
The woman kept singin'.
"Today's a saint day," she sang, and she looked at him with understandin' in her eyes, and he found he was grinnin' and singin' the countermelody.
"Today's a saint day," she sang, and Kurt closed his eyes and breathed deep agin the pain, and sang with all his heart.
"An' tomorrer's a saint day-"
Brittany's eyes went wide as the unfamiliar voice came ringing through the hall, her tongue flicking out over her lips.
Santana swallowed, finding the sight far too attractive for what it was. Just a tongue-flick, eh?
"One of our boys're here," Brittany said, suddenly smiling wide, dropping out from the chant. Santana dropped, too, they didn't need her. There was pounding and clanging as the girls hit the bars.
"-Saints are for today-"
"-Cause everyday's a saint day-"
"Are you a saint?"
Brittany braced herself. Santana let go of her, somewhat uneasy.
"Hell yes we are! Saints!"
"-Today's a saint day-"
"Saints! Saints! Saints!"
"-An' tomorrer's a saint day-"
Santana stumbled backward, her eyes wide and her mouth dry. Brittany turned to her and grinned, wild, her hands forming movements and gestures and then-
"QUIET!" The warden clumped into the hall. "I'LL HAVE Y'ALL FLOGGED IF Y' DON'T CEASE THIS INFERNAL SINGIN'!"
"But we're Saints, motherfilcker! Y've demmed y'rself!" the boy shouted from eight cells down, and bared his teeth in a grin. "Y'r all filcked, 'cos today's a Saint day!"
"An' tomorrer's a Saint day!" Brittany screamed.
"Which day, Brit?" the boy shrieked.
Santana's eyes came wide open, and she wrapped her arms around herself. How'd the boy know-
"SAINT'S DAY!"
A loud bang echoed through the hall.
One of the jailers, the most cocky one, lifted his cap and smirked.
Santana's eyes narrowed.
"Noah," the boy called, from down the hall. "Let's go."
'Noah' sprinted up the stairs, unlocking the boy. He came along to Santana and Brittany's cell, and unlocked them.
"You-" he said, then turned away.
"I'm not sure I could forgive you, Puck," Santana said. "You killed Quinn. Indirectly, but you did."
"I..."
Brittany looked down.
The outside world was so much larger than Santana remembered.
Warmer, too. Brittany curled around her, in the bed they both owned, donated by the other Saints.
A pinky finger wrapped around hers, and Santana looked up.
"Are you feeling better, San?" Brittany asked.
"Why the lie?" Santana forced through her lips.
"I was broken, for a while there," Brittany said, "But then I was okay."
"But I-"
"Shh," Brittany said, another finger to Santana's lips. "Today's a saint day. Time enough for questions tomorrow."
"But tomorrow's a saint day too-"
"No, but today's a special saint day-"
Brittany tasted like sugar, and berries, wild and sweet.
Prev: Kurttany Now: Brittana Next: Sue/Sue