A/N: Warning: Homophobic language and abuse. Mainly Santana Centric, more Kurt next Chapter! And remember, reviews make the world go round!

For the first time since she'd been given her polyester cheerleading uniform, Santana was feeling good about herself. Kurt's words of advice had helped more than she could thank him for, but it was the simple pleasure that she could be herself around him; the feeling of freedom, the feeling of coming out. And it felt amazing, like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt human again.

And in that moment, Santana knew. Some may say it was too soon, and they might even be right, but she needed that freedom- Santana had tasted it and she wanted more. She wanted to be herself again- in her own home. She needed to come out to her parents.

Oh God. Her parents. She suddenly felt dizzy and clung to the steering wheel of her car. She'd seen her share of the Coming Out Diaries, and knew that her parents may not accept her- hell, they lived in Lima Heights, where being gay was some kind of death wish. Images flashed through her head. They could kick her out, shun her, disown her…

But what if they were cool with it like Kurt's dad? What if she could be herself at home again, finally experience the freedom once more? With a shaky sigh, Santana's decision was final- she was coming out. Tonight.

I'm telling my parents. Tonight. – S x

Are you sure? I'm fully supportive but don't you think it's kind of soon? You only realised today, after all… K x

I love Brittany and I've never been so sure of anything, no matter how long I've known it. I want to share that with my parents. Just don't dream of showing anyone this text, right? Otherwise I may have to go all Lima Heights on you – S x

Of course not! I think you should take things at your pace, and if you think that's the right thing, go ahead – K x

Thanks. It's weird texting, Britt doesn't know how to send messages on her cell – S x

Sounds like Britt! – K x

Haha- anyway, I have to go know, my mom's calling for dinner, this is it – S x

I really hope it goes okay for you. If it… doesn't, I'm still here for you, promise – K x

Sitting frigid at the dinner table that evening, the closet looked a lot more appealing. But to hell with playing it safe- Santana would have to do this at some point, and quite frankly, she mentally reassured herself, the sooner the better.

"Santana?" her mother called, snapping her fingers in her daughter's face impatiently. "I said, how are things at school?"

"School's just school, I guess- apart from the usual drama in Glee Club," she let out a fake laugh.

"What kind of drama, sweetie?" her mother sighed, clearly unconcerned as she took a sip of wine, a mock smile tugging at her lips.

"The usual- Rachel Berry and her troll of a boyfriend got into another argument," Santana replied, appearing nonchalant although her heart was racing and head pounding slightly as she opened her mouth to continue. "They made up though, and we had to listen to her sing yet another ballad just to prove it,"

Her father grunted, rolling his eyes looking not concerned in the least, just typical behaviour for him. He mom smiled and said how sweet it was, though her eyes remained uninterested.

"It made me realise something though," Santana breathed in, ignoring her parents for a spilt second as she tried to calm her internal nerves. There's no going back, the voice at the back of her head whispered, but she ignored it. Another deep breath. "I'm in love with someone too, but it's not Puck, not David, not any of the guys I've dated. I'm in love with Brittany. And yes, she's a girl- yes, that makes me- it makes me gay. I- I love both of you, which is why I couldn't hide this from you and I hope you l-love me enough in return to see that I'm the exact- the same person I always have been, and that who I love doesn't define that. Just because I'm a lesbian, it- it doesn't change who I-I am." Santana stuttered. And that was it. She'd come out.

But then came the wait.

It was one of the longest silences Santana had ever known. Time stood still in the kitchen, no one daring to breathe. Santana broke the silence first.

"Oh my God, say something," she whispered, quivering in her chair. "I- Mom? Dad?"

Her Father snorted in disgust, turning a deep beetroot colour as he took a shaky breath in.

"You- You my girl, are a disgrace," he choked out, sneering down at his daughter, who was frozen still. "You are a fag. A fucking queer!" he screamed, hate burning in his slit-like eyes. Tears of fury rolled down his reddened cheeks. "You know where we live, Santana? We live in the Lima Heights Adjacent," he spat out, slightly breathless. He mother quickly picked up and Santana absorbed her reaction. Her face showed traces of humiliation, looking as furious as her father, but she spoke to Santana with more control.

"What I think your Father was trying to say," she practically purred into Santana's ear, stroking her cheek with her pointed nails, "Is that you know what queers like- like you are thought of here. You were raised on the freaking knowledge," she snapped. "So tell me," salty tears ran down Santana's cheeks as her mom carried on in a blasé tone. "Where did we go wrong? I used to look at you and see myself!" she laughed coldly. "And now? Now you're everything I hate in this messed up country. You are a lesbian. You are a fag. You are a disappointment" her mother ended in a hiss, watching her daughter's walls crumble down as she slumped to her knees, rejected.

The Latina didn't even bother trying to conceal the helpless sobs that shook her small frame. But she never once shook her parent's reproachful glares, blurred from the salty tears obscuring her vision. No word were needed, the looks in their eyes spelling it all out. Emotions flickered through their faces; disrespect. Contempt. Mortification. Shock. Disgust. No love, no sympathy for their only daughter, who they had just cut down with their own words.

Time passed.

Santana gathered herself and stood up, gingerly rising to her feet in what felt like slow motion. Ignoring the numb feeling spreading through her limbs she walked over to her mom, holding her gaze with a look of detest on her stained face while her mother simply smirked.

And that was when Santana lost it.

"You BITCH!" she screamed, bringing up her hand to slap her mother until-

Until she felt a strong pair of arms pin her to the wall. Arms once so safe and familiar, yet now so foreign and frightening. The anticipation kicked in; ten seconds passed; then twelve, fifteen, sixteen…

And then it came.

Her dad's fist made contact with her once flawless skin; once, twice, three times… and then the pain arrived, and Santana slowly processed the fact that the pool of blood surrounding her belonged to her, the almost surreal pain flowing through her body was coming from her own ribs, the inhumane howls of agony were escaping from her own lips. And the throaty laughs of satisfaction were belonged to her father. It was sickening.

"You're sick" she told him, her voice sounding almost normal, despite the fact she could almost no longer move due to the stabbing pains in her ribs. The laughs stopped as her bemused father took in what she'd just said.

"No-one talks to me or my wife like you just did. No-one talks to their parents like that. Especially not fags like you." He spat carelessly, lifting his bloody fist as he breathed heavily. But even he froze at what his daughter said next. Even in her condition, she spoke clearly, staring him down.

"Neither of you two could ever be my parents. You stopped being my parents the second I told you I was gay." What happened next Santana had braced herself for, knowing how incredibly likely it would be. Deep down, ever since she'd realised she loved Brittany, she'd known it would come down to this. But nothing could prepare her for the words her dad spoke next, starting in a whisper and ending in a scream. It hit her hard and fast, far worse than the blows to her side. The harsh reality of the situation, but more than anything, the rejection, like rubbing salt in a wound.

"Get. Out. Of this house."