Santana sat down heavily on the bed, mind racing to try and take in all the information she had received in the last two hours and process it properly. Now that she knew more about Sue, both in terms of her plan and the layout of her compound, she should feel better, but she didn't. She felt more unsettled than ever. It didn't feel like Sue, somehow.

She sighed and lay back, taking a long pull from the bottle of bourbon that had somehow found it's way into her room.

Her room. No longer their room but hers. The living situation sucked but for now, just in this moment, she found herself grateful for it. She needed space to think and right now she didn't trust herself to discuss things with Rachel.

Rachel.

She was still pissed about Rachel's reaction to Jesse. More specifically her barbed comments about Santana's past behaviour. Not that Santana felt any better about the things she had done, but Rachel had never thrown it back in her face before now, and definitely not in such a public setting. When she had joined them in Shelby's office they had all talked through the situation and come up with a solid plan, Rachel's input making it much more secure than it had been prior to her arrival, but the girl had been distant somehow. She had stayed across the table from Santana during the whole meeting and had seemed to be avoiding her eyes.

Santana didn't get it. She was the one who should be mad, right? Maybe it had to do with her mother. Maybe once she and Shelby had had a chance to talk, bond, sing a duet, whatever, Rachel would knock on her door and they could make up. Maybe.

She just couldn't help but feel that something was off.

She sighed and had another drink.

Santana cursed as the door handle moved away from her hand, then again as her knee dropped without her telling it to do so. She steadied herself on the door and the wall and focussed on the handle once more. It danced before her eyes and she frowned in annoyance.

"Fucking stay there, fucker." She muttered, glaring at it with one eye. It stopped it's merry dance and she grabbed it quickly, grinning in triumph. "Yeah, you are. Whatever."

She pulled the door open and grunted in frustration when it bounced back shut. She tried again, getting increasingly angry with each passing moment. She realised after a few attempts that she still had her other hand against the door and shot it a look of betrayal until it removed itself and joined the other hand on the handle. Smirking she wrenched the door open and let out a cry of pain as it ricocheted off her knee and slammed shut once more.

"Fuck you, you fucking fuck!" She yelled and lunged at it, both hands connecting with the handle, one of her fingers bending back at an alarming angle in the process. She yanked it open, keeping a tight hold on it, and staggered out into the hallway, slamming into the opposite wall.

"Yeah, that's right!" She cried, pointing back at the offending piece of wood whilst sliding slightly down the new one. "Don't fuck with Santana Lopez of you'll get the fucking bitch fucking smack shit...thing…"

She looked away in disgust and dropped her hand down dismissively, still muttering incoherently. She gazed up the hallway, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. It looked long. Using the wall for guidance she moved slowly towards the light. She could hear voices and closed an eye in an effort to work out what they were saying.

"...thing I ever did right!"

She slid her foot down the floor in front of her, pushing away from the wall and taking a couple of rapid, uneven steps forward.

"...I do that was so wrong?"

Her knee buckled again and she dropped heavily to the floor, hands reaching out to greet it and guide her closer to the voices.

"...a little girl."

Something broke in Santana's mind and sadness washed over her. She could not put the words together to make sense of them but something about the conversation she was overhearing filled her with such a sense of hurt and loss that she started to cry uncontrollably. She rounded the corner and slumped against the wall, silent sobs wracking her body.

"How could they do this?"

"Cos they're fucking asshole fucks and we're going to fucking kill them all." It took her a moment to realise that she was the one who had spoken. She tried to focus on the scene in front of her and found herself staring at Cara, draped over Puck. Did she fall too? Damn this crazy, unsteady building. She went to try and speak but realised she didn't really know what to say, or how. Cara was looking at her with a funny expression and Puck had turned his face away.

Huffing in frustration, Santana pushed away from the wall and crawled over to them. Her face was wet. Why was her face wet? She finally reached her destination and wrapped her arms around his legs, resting her cheek on his knees.

"It's okay. We're gonna fucking do it, Puck." She muttered. "We're gonna fucking kill those fuckers and get her back. 'Kay?"

She heard a sound from above her and tried to work out what it was, but her eyes were so heavy. Everything was so heavy. Fuck her life. Why was everything so fucking hard all the time. She scrunched her face up in annoyance, idly wondering why she couldn't see anything. She didn't really care. She was warm. She felt safe. Her face was wet, she didn't know why, it was very annoying. What was she talking about? Probably not important. Now she was shaking. Her shoulder hurt. Fuck.

"...ana...sus...up!"

Ugh. The shaking and the moving weren't great. She was starting to feel less okay.

"Fuuuccck." She whined. "What the fuck?" Her armpits hurt. This was not okay. God, and her hand. And her knees. And that noise!

Wait, what was that noise? And with the shaking. She really wished she could see. It was difficult to know what was going on when your eyes didn't work. It would probably be important to have eyes soon, but she couldn't really remember why. The noise was very annoying as well. But it was far away so probably not important.

She was definitely moving now. Finally one of her eyes decided to help out and she could see something moving. Why did things keep moving?

"...on...fly smoothing bore me. Maybe, bees."

She felt her feet falling onto something hard and tried to keep them straight. She smelled a familiar scent and something pressing into her hand, which hurt like a bitch.

Rachel, she thought. God, her hand hurt.

"Gay. Someone. Ten fet blue to said."

This whole situation was not making sense and Santana felt like crying. She had a crushing feeling in her chest and stomach and she wished she knew what to do. There was a gate. Or something. No, water, with a gate at the end, and a man. She had to see a man. She didn't really want to, she didn't like going to see men and she just wanted to lie down.

She wanted to sleep, not go and see a man. She should tell Rachel. She would tell her tomorrow. She didn't like him.

She was back at that fucking door. She didn't like this door. But it opened up without a fight and she fell onto her bed with relief. Her eyes closed again and she fell asleep thinking about the water and the gate and the man.

She didn't like him.