If I Let My Heart Go

Part II

Rain pours, drenching me to my skin. I shiver uncontrollably as my tears mix with the drops of rain that are rolling down my cheeks. I don't even know where I am. I stopped concentrating on which left I took and how many rights I made a long time ago. Instead my mind has been focused on one sole thought.

I have to find her.

Sobs shake through me as I shout her name into the darkness, my words getting lost, tangled up in the mess of branches all around me.

As I shout her name once more, hearing the syllables become swallowed up by the darkness, I turn to the left, once again scanning all around me in the desperate hope that she's still here somewhere. Between the trees I can just make out a figure.

They're walking towards me and as they step ever closer, familiar brown eyes meet mine and the hammering in my chest begins to soften, somehow calmed by her very presence. She smiles tentatively and her mouth opens slowly, her tongue wetting her lips as she prepares to speak. The first word hasn't even formed in her mouth when the entire scene changes around me without warning.

Suddenly I'm no longer in the forest. Instead, my eyes are adjusting to the dim glow of the light on Santana's porch. I look down at my feet, still bare after leaving my shoes by the lake, by our lake.

It only takes a few minutes for me to recall the events that led to me being here.

Despite the fact that I haven't slept at all, I don't actually feel too much like the living dead. I suppose that's due to the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through my veins, and the panic that's flooding my brain.

I've been here for around 5 hours now. The sun will be coming up shortly and I know that soon my parents will enter my room to prepare me for the reaping, only to find an empty bed. If I'm being honest I couldn't care about any of that. The reaping… My parents… It all seems so insignificant right now compared to the fact that my best friend is just metres away yet is refusing to talk to me.

I can still feel her lips against mine, even though the action ended so long ago. I immediately chased after her, through the trees and under the fence that lies beyond, but as usual I was too slow, simply left to follow hopelessly in her wake. She's always been faster than me. Always one step ahead.

The hard wood beneath me is only softened by a thin cushion. What little padding it contains is somewhat lumpy and the edges are frayed beyond help but it's better than nothing and I am grateful to Santana's mom for bringing it to me in the first place. It's a stark contrast to the pristine ones scattered all over the couch at home, the ones that are only there for decoration, and unlike this one, don't feel at all comforting.

After waiting out here for what must have been an hour or so, Santana refusing to open the door, I guess her mom must have taken pity on me. She looked at me curiously as she held out the cushion, but not a single word left her lips. The countless questions I can only assume she had remained hidden in her mind.

I wonder now what she was thinking. Does she have any idea what's wrong? Has Santana said anything? I highly doubt that. Santana and her mom are close, I know that, but I also know that those walls that Santana has up are practically ten feet tall, topped with razor sharp wire and shards of glass. She's been this way since the day her brother died. Matters of the heart stay there, protected and hidden from the majority of the world. A small minority are privileged enough to be allowed in- I'm usually one of them. I hope to God that, at least, hasn't changed.

I go through the events of the night for what feels like the thousandth time.

Santana kissed me.

Though, the whole moment was so fleeting that part of me wonders if it's all just a figment of my imagination; something my subconscious conjured up for a reason I don't yet understand.

Whilst I've replayed the scene in my head umpteen times, I'm still no closer to understanding how I feel about it at all. The butterflies that filled me earlier are long since gone, having fluttered away to escape the wave of panic that flooded my body the moment she swam away from me.

Even amongst the whirl of noise in my head two things are managing to ring out clearly. Firstly, I'm confused. That much is more than obvious to me. Secondly, I need to talk to Santana.

For some reason I feel as though just talking to her will help me understand what's going on in my brain. As well as that, I need to know what it was for her. Was it simply a spontaneous kiss, fuelled by our heightened emotions? Or was it something more? In all honesty I have no clue what it was for me, and trying to figure that out is only increasing the pounding sensation that's echoing repeatedly in my head. It's all too much. I suppose it doesn't help that I've been awake for hours, over-analysing every tiny detail until they've become nothing more than a blur of confusion.

Light begins to break through the darkened sky, billowing with menacing clouds that only seem apt considering that today is when two people, children, will be sent to what will likely be their death. Adding that fact to my already overloaded mind is just too much, so I push it away into the depths once more. I know I'll have to face it soon though; it's inevitable.

I don't even notice I've drifted off to sleep until his bellows echo in my ears, thunderously loud and full of anger.

"Where the hell have you been? Are you stupid? It's the reaping today and your mother wakes up to find your bed empty! Do you have any idea how ridiculous we would look if the rest of the District found out that the Mayor can't keep a handle on his own daughter? And that better still, she spent the night outside the Lopez house?"

That's it. I snap. I'd managed to keep it together until now, more than used to his tirades, but this time he's gone too far. The words are launched out of my mouth, drenched in venom, before I have a clue of what I'm doing, "What are you trying to say? Come on, spit it out Mr Mayor." I sneer through the last two words, rage mixing with the complex combination of emotions that are already filling me to the brim.

His eyes widen, so visibly filled with shock that I dared to talk back to him. "You know very well what I'm trying to say, Quinn. We have a reputation to uphold and these people…" He pauses, his eyes travelling up and down as he surveys their house; a simple wooden structure that has always felt much more like home to me than our own fancy house (which was paid for with Capitol money due to the deals my father has been part of throughout the years). He looks at me once more, eyes dark and cold, then continues, "These people are not who you should be socialising with. I have always said that girl would drag you down to their level. Now, stop playing games and get home."

"No, go on. Is it the fact that the Lopez family work hard for their money? Is that what bothers you? That they have honest jobs and do something which benefits this community? That they're part of a loving family who actually care about each other? Or is it just that they're decent human beings and that's too much for your stupid brain to comprehend?"

His palm collides with my cheek before I have a chance to actually understand the implications of what I've just said. I've never spoken to him like this before, never dared to stand up to him, but I guess the culmination of recent events has pushed me over the edge.

"You insolent child," his voice is low, shaking slightly as he attempts to control the anger that is no doubt coursing through him, "Get back home now."

I stare at him, not wanting to break eye contact and show weakness, "I'm going to go back, but don't you think for one single second it's because of you. Mom is waiting and she has enough on her plate having to live with you, that's without me making things more difficult for her. So believe me when I say I couldn't care less how any of this affects you, and I don't care how much you hate the Lopez family. Santana means the world to me and nothing you say will ever change that. So go run back to the house, get ready to socialise with all your business partners from the Capitol, and abuse your position of power to make sure your precious reputation stays intact. But you and I? We're done. Santana, and all her family, they're worth a million of you."

As I walk away, in the corner of my eye, I spot movement in the window to my left. I glance back but all I see is a flash of jet black hair and a curtain floating back into its rightful place. She's already gone.

I take a deep breath, the cold morning air shuddering through me as it fills my lungs. Right now I have to go home, I know that. After all, as much as I hate my father, I love my mom and I can't let her down. I try desperately to calm myself, knowing that I need to hold it together for a little while longer at least. My feet pound on the ground, taking me away from my father as quickly as I can manage. I remind myself that the sooner I'm home and can get ready, the sooner I can find Santana at the reaping.

My mind is on autopilot, and I cling desperately to that thought as if it's the only thing that matters. As if she's the only thing that matters. It's now that I start to realise how very true that thought actually is.

I go through the motions, allowing my mom to fuss over me as much as she likes. She doesn't ask me any questions about where I've been, not because she doesn't care but because I think she can tell that I don't want to talk about it. So instead we discuss inane things, anything to get us through the next few hours. I know that behind her smile, the one which is permanently plastered on in my father's presence, she feels alone and terrified. With me that mask falls slightly. I wish, not for the first time, that she'd just leave him already, but I also know how impossible that would be. Where would we go? She has no money of her own.

It's just another reason why I wish I could escape this place. I'd take my mom and Santana, and just run as far as I could, away from this wretched life. But there's no time to think about that now, after all it won't do any good. Plus, I've got more than enough on my mind.

In no time at all we're grabbing our coats, ready to leave for the reaping. My father hasn't said a word to me since he got back; instead he's locked himself in his study. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Silently, the three of us walk together, doing our best to pretend we're one happy family. As soon as we get to our destination I'm gone, only pausing to hug my mom and give her my best reassuring smile. My eyes are torn from my mother's and immediately they begin frantically scanning the area for any sign of Santana. She has to be here somewhere.

As I move forward I begin to get swallowed up by the sea of people, children that are making their way to their potential end. I try to ignore the sensation burning through me, instead just focusing everything I have on searching for her.

Every pair of brown eyes and lock of black hair captures my attention, building up hope inside me that is all too soon shattered when realisation dawns. None of them are her. Which begs the question, where is she?

I don't have much time to contemplate the answer before peacekeepers are forcing us forwards, herding us like cattle. I feel the sharp pain as they take a sample of my blood, but my mind is elsewhere, completely absorbed by the notion of finding Santana.

Panic begins to fill me as more men in white uniforms lead us to our alphabetised sections. Within a matter of moments I'll be trapped here, unable to leave and find her. My mind is swimming with questions that I'd rather not have. Questions I can't possibly answer. What if I can't find her? What if she doesn't want to talk to me? What if things will never be the same between us now?

It's too much for me to handle, I can feel it. My heart is hammering in my chest so quickly that I fear it's going to explode. My stomach is tensing uncomfortably, and I almost feel as though I'm going to be sick. This can't be happening. What if her name gets pulled out of that stupid glass bowl and I never get the chance to see her again? Never get to chance to tell her… I don't even know exactly what it is I want to tell her. All I know is that being this far from her feels so wrong it hurts.

I try desperately to breathe but it's as though my body has gone into meltdown and is refusing to act rationally. It's then, just as my group is separated off, that I see her.

Everything fades away as my eyes lock onto hers. The murmuring of the crowd, the sobs coming from anxious parents, the feedback from the microphone as Effie takes the stage; none of it even registers properly in my brain. All I see, all I know, all that matters is her.

It's then, as she meets my gaze, that it hits me. The force of it is so strong that I can actually feel it, like a tidal wave crashing through me and obliterating everything in its path but this. It's the only thing that remains untouched; dragged up from the depths where I was unaware it was even hiding. I wonder how on earth I didn't realise it before because it seems so painfully obvious now.

I love her.

Of course I do. How could I not?

Every single cell in my body is crying out for her, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am completely in love with everything about her. It's unquestionable, shining out as clear as day.

I smile at her, hoping desperately that she can somehow sense everything I wish I could tell her right now. Perhaps she can make it out, hidden in my eyes that refuse to leave hers. I will her to read the words that are written so plainly all over me, the words that are all for her. The thought consumes me so much that I almost don't hear the name that Effie reads out.

Almost.

The two words ring in my ears. They sound so impossible yet as Effie repeats them, their truth begins to sink in.

"Santana Lopez."