Rachel pulled her shirt back on and attempted to cross her arms over her chest but Brittany caught her wrist and pulled the sleeve up. She glanced between Rachel's eyes and the scars and track marks marring the brunette's tan skin. Brittany dropped her head to press a kiss to the scars then locked her eyes with Rachel's and chewed on her lip. Rachel felt Santana's glare on the back of her head.
"Rachel," Brittany whimpered. "How come you have these? Did you get in an accident?"
"Listen," Rachel said. She turned her attention to Santana who was in fact glaring at her. "It's no big deal, okay?"
"Track marks, scars and fresh gashes are kind of a big deal, Berry."
"What's that mean? I don't get it!"
Rachel sighed, frustrated. "It's okay, B."
"No, it's not, "okay, B"! Rachel's been shooting up. Drugs. Bad drugs. And from the looks of it she's been slicing herself open to top it all off."
Rachel's gaze dropped to Brittany's fingers still wrapped around her wrist.
"But...why would you want to do that, Rach?"
Rachel looked away. "Because, B, sometimes it's easier to go away somewhere in your head than it is to stay here."
"No, it's because you're fucking stupid," Santana scoffed.
Rachel snapped her head up. "I'm... what?"
"You're fucking stupid. Oh, and a coward. You think life's so fucking hard, princess? With your nice house, and your gay dads, and your amazing fucking voice... which you've probably ruined now..." Santana stood up, pacing. "What's so terrible, Berry? Really. Enlighten me to what is so horrible that you could put that look on Brittany's face. Because really? I don't see how you're the victim here."
"Santana, it's no big deal, okay? I don't shoot up anymore and I didn't do it for that long anyways." Rachel plastered on a small smile. "It's fine."
"Bullshit!"
Santana marched over to Rachel's backpack and Rachel attempted to jump off the couch before Santana instructed Brittany to hold her back. Brittany wrapped her arms around Rachel's shoulders while Santana rifled through her bag.
"Santana, I told you! I don't shoot up anymore, now please stop..."
Santana inspected Rachel's compact and Rachel made the mistake of gasping. The Latina pried it open and looked down at its contents then back up at Rachel.
"God damn, Berry. I am so glad you don't shoot up anymore! Because, you know, snorting coke?" Santana held up the small almost empty baggie, a small trace of white powder was stuck in one of the corners. "So much fucking better."
Rachel warred with herself, torn between wanting to defend herself somehow, and wanting to grab the bag from Santana for the trace amounts it contained. The inner battle drained her, and she sunk against Brittany. "I don't have an excuse. I know, I'm pathetic, and weak."
Brittany hugged Rachel to her. "I don't think you're weak or pathetic, Rach. I think maybe you made some wrong choices, that's all. But we want to help you, right, S?" The blonde looked up at Santana.
"Yeah. We do, actually. For whatever reason, I've come to like you, Berry. I don't really wanna see you throw your life away." She dropped the compact on the table, and moved back over to the couch, kneeling on it next to Rachel and Brittany.
Rachel sighed, looking defeated. "How about I stay the night? We could watch a movie, or... something... You guys could watch over me or something... I dunno how this works."
Brittany brightened. "I'll call Mr. Ryerson!" She explained further, as Santana shot her a look. "Well, it'll help with the sickness later."
Santana had to admit that was a rather good thought. "Okay, go call him. I'll go get you some PJ's, Berry. Don't move."
Santana disappeared up the stairs and Rachel looked longingly at her compact, knowing there was just enough residue in the baggie to give her a tiny little bit of a high. Brittany got up and started pacing behind the couch with her phone. She waited a few seconds then Rachel glanced back to see Brittany had stopped pacing and her back was turned. Taking the chance, she lunged forward to the coffee table and pried the compact open. Brittany was still talking. She dug her finger into the baggie and pulled out the last little pinch of white powder and inhaled deep before shoving the baggie back into its place and returning the compact to the coffee table. She leaned back into the couch and waited patiently, Brittany dropped down next to her and wrapped her arms around Rachel, Santana returned a few minutes later with a stack of pajamas.
"Mr. Ryerson said he'd be over in twenty minutes, S." Brittany updated the brunette Cheerio.
Santana nodded and looked over at her girlfriend, and her friend, and her scowl softened. "Thanks, B." She turned to Rachel, sitting near the two of them. "Rach, can I ask you a question?" her tone was careful.
Rachel nodded, the tiny buzz she'd gotten quickly disappearing, her mind slightly fuzzy around the edges without the clarity the cocaine usually gave her.
"Where are you getting it? Mr. Ryerson's the only drug dealer I know in Lima, and he only sells pot." She lay a hand gently on Rachel's leg, her thumb rubbing gently over the denim.
"Jacob Ben Israel." Rachel's eyes widened. She'd spoken without thinking, and now she couldn't take it back. Damn it, if only she'd had more, she'd have been thinking straighter. She silently berated herself for her stupidity.
Santana looked at her in disbelief. "JewFro? Seriously? What the hell did you have to do to get him..." She trailed off, watching Rachel slip into a dissociative state with the memories of earlier in the day. "Rachel? What the hell is he making you do for this?"
Brittany looked back and forth at Santana and Rachel, understanding dawning. "I think I know."
Santana looked up suddenly, Brittany's words registering late to her ears. "What? What do you think, B?" She felt bad talking around Rachel, but the brunette didn't seem to even be there with them.
"She had sex with him. Probably a lot. And she probably didn't want to." Brittany chewed her lip, looking hurt at the very prospect.
"I'll kill him," Santana muttered under her breath just as the doorbell rang upstairs. "That's Ryerson. Hand me my wallet, B. Sit with her, will you?" Santana softened slightly.
Brittany nodded, and Santana ran upstairs, coming down moments later, tossing a manila envelope on the table.
Rachel stayed cuddled with Brittany on the couch, the blonde was determined to not let the brunette out of arm's reach, while Santana started rolling out joints. The Latina lit one up and handed it to Rachel. She smiled appreciatively and took a deep drag and handed it back to Santana. Brittany put her fingers under Rachel's jaw and turned the girl's head toward her and smiled. Before Rachel could let the smoke go, Brittany pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Rachel exhaled slowly, Brittany simultaneously sucked in then kissed her again.
They handed the joints back and forth until the haze that had disappeared earlier was thick again. Santana reserved the rest of the stash for later. Brittany rested her head on Rachel's shoulder and kissed at her neck, she slipped her fingers underneath the hem of Rachel' shirt and traced her fingertips on Rachel's stomach.
"B...B, what are you doing?"
"I just want to finish what we started," the blonde said. She kissed Rachel's neck. "I want to make you feel good like I said earlier, remember? Wanna make you..." another kiss, "forget."
Rachel groaned and nodded. Santana came at her from the other side, her lips blazing a trail up Rachel's neck. Brittany pulled Rachel's shirt off for the second time that day and Santana again kissed down her chest. The Latina ran her hand up Rachel's jean-clad thigh and parted her legs to press her fingers against the smaller brunette. Rachel gasped at the contact. Her mind left Santana's basement.