For MusicFlowsWithin

Chapter 07

Staring at the ceiling has become my one and only hobby. It's actually not a real hobby, more like a habit, or better yet: the only thing left to do when I can't fall asleep.

It's raining heavily tonight and my heart thuds against my rib cage in a foolish attempt to match the threatening rhythm from water splashing loudly against the window of my bedroom, which is my only room. I'm only eighteen years old and against common belief even the undead have to eat and rest occasionally. My dad must have gambled away his money, because there isn't any inheritance to live on, which forces me to work part time after school. This one room apartment is lousy, but it's the only thing I can afford and it fulfils its purpose. I'm only a visitor anyway.

Oftentimes – and especially in nights like this – I wonder why I even bother going to school. I could have graduated during the time I spent with Gantz. Instead I fail on purpose and even though I know I'll eventually be expelled, I can't stop. I guess I keep going back, because deep down I know I can't move on. These missions I'm being sent into, they usually don't last longer than an hour or two and sometimes I have weeks during which I'm not called back at all. Still my mind is always fighting aliens. It's like the black ball keeps telling me: My life has ended. What I do with my new life is entirely up to Gantz.

Every morning my reflection tells me that I haven't changed. Well, my eyes sorta have and I swear my expression has suffered a personality shift. I'm not the old Santana anymore. I'm not the loser from back then, the girl who was so sad and desperate, so lonely and lost that she would throw her life away. I'm a warrior now. But I don't age. To others I must still look exactly like I did two years ago.

On nights like this one I lie awake and stare at the ceiling because I'm unable to sleep. I've tried counting sheep and aliens and people. I've tried singing lullabies, but the only song that keeps popping up in my head is the song from that Japanese morning show I hear before every mission. Sometimes I doze off just to be startled awake again.

I close my eyes and blue lightning is fired into my direction.

One

I wonder what my last thought would be.

Two

I wonder who this blonde girl from school is.

Three

What does she want from me?

Four

I'll never be free. I'll never have anything.

Five

A knock on the door keeps me from bursting into a million pieces.

I open my eyes and groan when I see that it's only 2 a.m.. What if I'm called back tomorrow? What if I'm called back tonight? I won't have slept a single minute and I'll be dead in no time.

Maybe I'll be too tired to care.

There's a second knock on the door. I lift the covers and don't rush as I throw on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and scuffle to the door, my limbs as heavy as my head.

When I open up a crack I see a shivering Rachel standing outside. She bites her lip and doesn't dare to look me in the eye. She's still wearing her suit and the cardigan she apparently picked up from Gantz' apartment before she left. Nervously she fumbles with her fingers and I impatiently rub my eyes. "What?" I snap and forget to ask her how she knows where I live. Did she follow me here?

"I know your name from the black ball..." she begins. Of course. There aren't too many people with the name Santana Lopez in Lima and unfortunately I had to register my address for school. Once again I regret letting slip which town I'm from. "I'm really sorry if I woke you up and I apologize for disturbing you at this late hour..." she stops again and I almost want to smack her and force her to say her piece just so I can return to bed. It's not the most comfortable, because it's basically just a mattress on the floor, but it's a lot cozier than standing here barefoot at the open door. Rachel is soaked despite her suit and her face is red. She's freezing.

"I was wondering if you would let me stay the night?" she whispers finally.

At first I think I misheard her. But she turns her head in order to avoid my eyes and continues: "I don't have anywhere to go."

Well, if that's all the answer is simple: "No." I shake my head and slam the door into her face. What the fuck is she thinking?

"Please. I wouldn't have come here if I had anyone else," I hear her beg through the door. At least she's polite enough to not just walk in, which would absolutely be possible even without the suit. The piece of wood separating us is nothing more than a joke of a door. I'm lucky that I don't own anything that's worth stealing. Any burglar would be extremely disappointed to have wasted the effort breaking in.

Still I don't really care about the brunette outside so I fetch a glass from my cupboard and fill it with tap water. "Santana." Unbelievable. "I know you have no reason to help me and you've already helped me, despite that. I just don't know where else to go." There's a pause, which doesn't last long. I take a sip of water and it runs cold down my throat. I frown, because it's actually a little too cold for my taste. "I can't go back home. They killed my parents."

So? My parents are long dead, too. My dad died shortly before me and my mom passed away right after my birth. Why should I be helping this girl now? I'm managing to get along just fine without my parents. When dad was pushed on the tracks of that subway and he fell unconscious, there was no one willing to help him. The newspapers later said it had been an accident, but I don't fall for shit like that.

I know he didn't have any enemies. He was just an Average Joe, just some doctor in New York. I know that no one had a reason to plot against him, but who's stupid enough to fall on the tracks?

Sure he had suffered from depression ever since I can remember. Yes, he had quit therapy and refused taking medication. "They just want to get into my brain." he said. Strange words from a doctor. But he had me and I loved him. Even though I never really had him, he always had me.

So the only explanation that's makes sense is that he was pushed. And no one came to his aid. I truly despise society.

"I saw them die." Rachel starts a new attempt. "I know you probably don't want to hear this and I promise you we don't even have to talk at all. I'll cook for you and clean and rub your feet. I'll do anything. Just let me stay."

She's a liar just like me.

And she's extremely persistent. I doubt she'll let me sleep if I leave her outside. "One night." I tell myself.

I open the door and eye her up. "You'll shut your blabber mouth and you'll let me sleep." She nods and presses her lips together before stepping in with a shy smile on her face.

When she sees the carpet and realizes how soaked she really is she takes off her cardigan and awkwardly tiptoes around in an attempt to find s a spot to stand on without dripping on my floor.

I watch her for a couple of seconds and can't decide whether I'm still annoyed or amused. "For god's sake," I finally mumble and start search through my closet to toss a pair of pajama pants, a t-shirt and a towel into her direction. "You can go take a shower if you like." I clench my teeth and contemplate if I should really add this next sentence: "And don't leave your suit lying around. You never know when you'll need it." She'll just be clinging to me anyway. And hey, I wanted her around, remember?

Rachel nods and it doesn't take long until I hear the splashing of water not only against my window but also against bathroom tiles. I find it hard to believe that I now have a roommate and such a dorky one, too. I lie back down and frown when I realize I'll have to leave my clothes on now. Normally I prefer to sleep naked with my suit lying right next to my mattress. Even in my sleep I'm always ready to fight.

The blanket is still warm when I slip beneath it, which eases my nerves a little.

Just a few minutes later Rachel re-emerges and of course she can't keep quiet. "Thank you," she whispers for what seems to be the 51st time. "Whatever," I reply and close my eyes. A few more minutes pass and when I don't hear her move I realize she's still standing next to my mattress. "I don't have a couch," I mumble. "Just grab the pillows lying around." I use them instead of chairs. Pretty much everything in my apartment takes place on the floor. "And there should be a blanket in the top drawer of that dresser over there." I don't even make an effort to point at the piece of furniture.

She does as she's told and a few more minutes pass. But just as I'm about to pass out she speaks again: "I was shot." I don't care. "We were all shot. I was kidnapped and they killed my dads." Liar. I can hear it in your voice. It rings in every word you speak. I don't care. "It all happened so fast. I was brought to this warehouse and I think they were going to sell me." She swallows audibly. "And all I remember is covering my ears and hoping I'd die. And then I think I did." I hear her sob. She's quite a cry-baby. "If we're dead, Santana, then where are we, really?" I groan into my pillow and pull the blanket over my head, demonstrating my lack of intention of answering her. Even if I had an answer I wouldn't just tell her. "Shut up already, will you?" Unfortunately my attempt to yell at her is interrupted by a yawn and I don't sound as angry as I intended to. I really should be sleeping already.

The room falls silent yet again and again I'm about to doze off when I hear her rolling around on the floor. She groans and stirs and sighs. "If the floor is too uncomfortable for you, you can still go back outside," I comment. "No, I'm fine," she replies immediately and stills her movement, but only for a short while before she starts to roll around again. When she finally bumps into the dresser and squeals "Ouch!" it's the last straw. I ponder kicking her out or telling her to go sleep in the bath tub. But both options just mean she'll be sneezing all through our next mission. Imagining having this walking alarm system being tied to my apron strings I roll my eyes. Rachel Berry with a cold would be the death of both of us.

"Fine," I yell into the darkness. "You can come here sleep on the mattress with me, but quit being such a pain in the ass." I swear I hear her smile into the darkness and not even three seconds pass until a cold set of feet finds mine. "And keep your freezing limbs to yourself. I'm not your hot water bottle." She withdraws her feet, but ignores my other demand: "I wish I could repay you somehow for everything you're doing for me." I hear my pulse pound hard in my temples. She's obviously not the type of girl who'll ever shut up. I prefer living in my own world, by myself. She's also in her own world, but unfortunately her world includes interfering with that of others. And then I flinch, because she reaches over and starts rubbing my stomach. "I saw you stare at me and it's ok. You can touch me if you want to." My eyes pop open and I blush immediately. "No!" I exclaim. "Why would you even..." but she interrupts me and sounds almost sad when she whispers: "I don't have anything else to give you."

I smack her hand away and grip the corner of my pillow. This can't be happening. Come tomorrow, come the next mission, I'll definitely have to find a way to get rid of her. When she sobs into my back, though, I hear myself say: "If you keep up being this easy you won't survive long out there. Work on your guard." She nods against my spine and yet again I can't believe I'm giving her such a valuable lesson.

Something's wrong with this girl. Something's wrong with the girl at school. Something's wrong with me. After Quinn died I promised to myself I'd never let anyone close again. Yet here I am, with a tiny dork wrapped around my waist, thinking of blue eyes piercing me.

Two years have passed since my first battle and I've never felt this weak before. I've got a bad feeling in my gut that something huge is about to happen.