AN: I'm a very VERY rust writer at the time of being. To all the readers who have pm:ed and commented to me to please continue this, I will. I'm deeply sorry to have kept you waiting for such a long time. Truthfully, when I went back to reading this story, all I could think was of the many errors I spotted. Which, if you know me, is absolutely traumatizing. I've become so critical of my own work lately, which is both good and wrong.
Anyway, life happens, and a lot of stuff gets in the way but here's something.
Let me know if you want me to continue this or not, I know there will be conflicted feelings/thoughts after this, at least I hope so.
Enjoy.
Sounds have never been more aggravating to her than it is now. She used to be so inspired by the things she'd hear anywhere she went as a child, even the doctors which she absolutely despised from a young age. The sound of a monitor, the telephone ringing at the nurses desk, the wheels of an old hospital bed rolling back and forth on the hospital floor. So many lyrics had come to life for her back then. Melodies had been memorized in her head till she could get home and work on them on her piano.
Rachel twisted her head to escape the tear stained spots on her pillow until her cheek found a dry spot to rest on. Her head was a mess. She couldn't bring herself to sound a thought, let alone talk to the nurses as they asked how she was. She wanted to disappear.
A harsh fist thrust into the hospital bed as Rachel tried to extinguish any upcoming thoughts that might disrupt her "state of calm".
'Look at yourself, look what you've done.' The words sneaked pass her walls.
"I'm gonna get out of here" dry, chapped lips murmured to no one.
Rachel turned so she could lie on her back and focus on the white ceiling that had been her comfort during the procedure.
"Out of here…now" she distractedly slurred the words before she rips the IV line from her arm and loses her breath at the pain that shoots up her arm. She manages to sit up long enough to slip off the bed. The anesthesia had yet to wear off so moving was proving to be more of a challenge than she'd imagined but she pushed it through nonetheless and after 10 minutes she was standing by the doorway, dressed and ready to create a clean slate. Start over. Forget.
She could do that. It would be easy so many people had hurt her over the years, Kurt, Mercedes, Quinn and now Santana. She knew that her actions hurt the latina, but it hurt her more. Santana will never have to make a decision like the one she did, she wont ever need to experience the tremors running through her body as the nurse tells you that the life you had in you is gone. Rachel is confident that she made the right call; despite the suffering she is experiencing. She takes a shuddering breath as she observes the room where it all happened, one last time.
Flashback
"Let me know if you feel any discomfort, alright?"
The nurse spoke gently as she sidled up next to her. Rachel barely nodded as she watched a tray being carried in by a male doctor. She licked her dry lips as she forced herself to look away and focus on the bright white ceiling.
"It's going to be alright." She heard from beside her.
"You must think I was reckless to let this happen to me, that I'm acting irresponsible, am I wrong?" The words escaped her yet she didn't mind.
"It's not my job to criticize the state of the people that come here, or the decisions they make"
Brown eyes hardened at the robotic response.
"What is it with doctors and nurses acting like they don't have a voice to use? I'm aware you have an obligation to abide certain legal conditions that come with this profession, but surely you must have an opinion no matter what those conditions are?"
Rachel squeezed her eyes tightly as she tried to even her breath.
The blonde nurse with the darkest of blue eyes that Rachel had ever seen, looked troubled as she struggled to make a decision. Rachel noted that the woman couldn't be older than 30.
"First of all, I'm not a nurse, I'm a second year intern and to answer you question, I don't know what to say. We have rules for a reason, there's not much I can do to change that."
"Not even an exception for me?" the brunette's voice came out in a whisper.
"Making an exception is what landed me here in the first place, I'm supposed to be in surgery right now." the blonde spoke quietly, mindful that she was surrounded by a hospital staff. She resented the stillness that would take over her patients when she failed to give them an answer they desired, it wouldn't matter to the patient in front of her. There was no right or wrong answer in this matter. The lock of the door behind her being turned snapped her attention back to the teen, she hesitantly reached for one of the girl's hands and waited for a sign of repugnance. She watched as a disoriented color of melancholic brown eyes shifted from the ceiling to stare at her. The girl jumped as a metallic tray crashed onto the stand next to the bed. She felt the cold hand in hers clench tightly, begging for a strength that was missing.
"You can do this." She leaned in closer to the girl as she repeated the words and held their connection alive through the link they had created.
The tears came falling as the doctor began the procedure, warm hands kept a tight reassuring hold on cold ones as Rachel broke eye-contact to stare back at the ceiling.
She recalls hearing a male voice inform her that it was over and that she could relax. She'd been too disoriented to notice the glare that the blonde sent to the doctor.
It was over.
X
Some say running is for fools.
Why?
Because it's their foolish behavior that left them stranded in a fervent never-ending run.
So many speed limits had been broken as Santana tried to reach Rachel. By the wrenching sound her engine was making, she'd guessed she wrecked something, an awful symbol of what her and Rachel's relationship had become.
She swirled her car into the first handicapped parking spot she found and ran to the hospital entrance. Her heartbeat was crashing harshly against her chest, her hair wild and free to flow in the wind. She halted to a stop as she reached the nurse's desk, hands flew to the counter so she could keep herself upright.
"Do you have a Ms-" She paused to inhale.
"Do you have a Ms. Berry here?" She exhaled.
"Mam, are you alright? Do you need a doctor?" the curvy middle aged woman asked behind the desk with worrisome eyes.
Santana groaned with unsuppressed frustration and willed herself to take a few calm breaths to regain her function to speak like a somewhat normal person.
"Can you please just answer the question?" she looked at the nurse with a frown.
"I'm afraid we can't release information about patients without parental consent. Unless you have documents to prove you're related to her, I'm afraid there's not much I can do." The woman replied less concerned and interested with Santana.
The latina had a sudden urge to smack somebody, preferably the nurse before her.
"Look! It's not like I'm asking for her birth certificate or anything, all I want to know is if she's here? It's really important, please, I'm begging you."
The nurse scrutinized her like she was contemplating whether Santana was a killer in search of an escaped victim, making the girl sigh impatiently.
The woman turned her gaze away from Santana to type something into her computer, a while later she looked up to catch Santana's intense eyes watching her.
"She was discharged two hours ago. Now if there's nothing else, I have paperwork to get to" the woman didn't wait around for Santana to respond and quickly returned to her obligations.
Santana felt herself distantly nod before turning back on her feet and leave to where she came from.
With numerous thoughts charging at her, the main thought that kept resounding was:
Where do we go from here?
TBC?
Any typos or weird expressions belong to this lady over here.
Constructive criticism is super super desired.