Disclaimer: I own nothing everything is owned by RIB and Glee.
Thanks again to my friend and beta, 216BLT, for all of your support.
TW: Graphic Description of a crime scene, violent death, suicide, murder.
Santana rubbed her sweaty palms on the front of her khakis as she climbed the stairs to Brittany's front door. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably. She hated that she always assumed the worst. A small part of her realized at that moment that Brittany could've been calling her for some innocuous reason, something as simple as one of her siblings falling and hurting themselves or having a stomach ache. But that wasn't the world Santana lived in. She didn't live in a world where the biggest problems her kid siblings had were scraped knees and upset stomachs.
Santana had only just raised her hand to knock when suddenly the door flew open and Brittany was there. The swiftness of Brittany's response had Santana backing up a few paces until her back was resting against the porch railing. She watched as Brittany closed the door softly behind her before turning to face Santana.
"Britt, what's going on?" Santana questioned, searching Brittany's features in the low light, hoping that answers rested somewhere in her best friend's expression. She didn't even know what she was hoping to find on Brittany's face but her best friend's expression remained stoic and unchanged.
Brittany sighed as she deflated, leaning against the side of her house as she met Santana's eyes, "Santana, don't freak out-"
"Don't do that, Britt. You can't start a sentence like that and just expect me not to freak out. Just please tell me what is going on."
Santana hated the desperation she heard in her voice as she practically begged Brittany to just tell her what was going on, to put her out of her misery. She found herself unconsciously wringing her hands in front of her trying to do anything to quell her anxiety. She could tell from the soft, careful way Brittany was measuring her words and the way she was studying Santana like a caged animal at the zoo, that she wasn't going to like what came next.
Brittany reached out a hand stilling Santana's movements. The gentle touch forced Santana to meet her eyes, "Hiram came and picked up Blaine and Rachel an hour ago."
Santana shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes, "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
She wrenched her hands away from Brittany, running them through her hair as she began to pace. This couldn't be happening. Hiram couldn't have been here. She had told Blaine and Rachel they would be safe here. This wasn't supposed to happen. She told them this wouldn't happen. Santana had been committing Hiram's schedule to memory for years and he had never veered from it. He'd never come home early. She now realized that she had only ever been able to keep Quinn safe because he was such a creature of habit. She now fully understood that Blaine and Rachel were different and she knew that. She knew that but she didn't know what else to do.
"I'm so sorry, San," Brittany whispered but her words didn't seem to have the desired effect as Santana only grunted in acknowledgment as she continued to pace.
She wasn't mad at Brittany. She wanted to tell her friend that but she couldn't find the words. Her mind was spinning so fast and it was suddenly as if she couldn't do anything more than pace the floor. This wasn't Brittany's fault. It was hers and hers alone. She should've known better. Brittany was her best friend but she didn't know what was at risk and what Hiram was capable of doing. It wasn't fair of her to expect this from Brittany. How had she fucked this up that badly? Blaine and Rachel were going to hate her. She told them she would keep them safe and she fed them to a shark instead.
She wondered briefly if this was how her mom felt every time she failed. Her mom. Her fucking mom had to be the reason that Hiram even knew Blaine and Rachel were at Brittany's. She should never have sent her mom that stupid five-word message. She didn't understand why her mom would tell Hiram anything. She suddenly felt too hot and too cold all at the same time, and nauseous as she remembered that her mom didn't ever have to tell Hiram anything. He always just knew. That's what the twins had been trying to remind her of that morning. He would've known that she had never taken them to school that morning or picked them up and he would've seen Santana's text. She didn't know how she could've forgotten that he allowed Shelby no privacy. He tracked her every movement and her every conversation.
She felt sick. What had she done? She couldn't be here. She needed to be home. She needed to see Blaine and Rachel, even if the thought of what Hiram could be doing to them caused her to feel frozen in place. She needed her mom. She hadn't felt the need for Shelby in years but tonight, when Santana had put everyone at risk, she needed her mom. She needed her mom to help her fix this mess.
Santana spun to face Brittany, her movement so fast that Brittany jumped and shrank back further against the wall, "Quinn…did he take Quinn?"
Brittany shook her head vehemently, "N-no. He…he didn't even look at her. It...it was weird."
"Good, good," Santana repeated as she exhaled a relieved breath, "Britt, we have to go. I have to get Quinn and we have to go."
"San, stop," Brittany said reaching out her hand to still Santana's movement as she reached out to open the front door, "What's going on? What aren't you telling me?"
Santana drew in a shuddery breath, deflating slightly as she glanced at Brittany from the corner of her eye. She needed to calm down. She could tell from the look on Brittany's face that she was so close to figuring Santana out. She needed to just make it through the next five minutes without Brittany deciphering the situation. She could pretend that her heart didn't feel like it was going to burst out of her chest or that the knot in her stomach didn't exist if it meant that Brittany wouldn't find out. If Brittany somehow figured out what Hiram was doing to them, she would tell her mom and her mom would have to tell someone. Then everyone would know and they would take them away and they would be separated and that was almost worse than whatever they were doing now.
"N-nothing, Britt, I just…did he...did he say anything to you?"
Brittany shook her head, frowning as she studied Santana's face, the panic that was there only moments ago had evaporated, "No. Not really."
Hiram had barely even glanced in Brittany's direction when he arrived at her house that afternoon. She had sat on the stairwell with Quinn, eavesdropping as he spoke to her parents. He was angry, she knew. He hadn't yelled or screamed. Instead he just calmly told her parents that Blaine and Rachel did not have his or Shelby's permission to be at their house and that Santana had been wrong to ask Brittany to watch the twins. She still saw the anger smoldering in his eyes. There was something cold and dark and almost unnatural in Hiram's eyes that had made her shudder and nearly beg her parents to allow them to stay, to do something to convince him to let them stay. But Quinn had placed a hand on her arm and shook her head and Brittany had stayed silent, figuring out she and Santana were in enough trouble already.
"I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Britt."
"It's fine, my parents are just gonna ground me but San, you're-"
Anything Brittany was about to say was cut off when Brittany's mom, Whitney, cracked open the door, causing Santana to stumble backward to keep from getting hit by the door, "Britt, is Santana here?"
"Right here, Mrs. Pierce," Santana mumbled, swallowing thickly. She didn't have time for this. She needed to get Quinn and get home. Rachel and Blaine had already been home with Hiram for over an hour. She didn't need a lecture from Mrs. Pierce right now.
Whitney opened the door wider then. She gestured for the girls to follow her into the house. She studied them as they stood before her. She didn't miss how Brittany had positioned herself so she was nearly standing in front of Santana, something almost protective in her stance. She also didn't miss the way that Santana was shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, refusing to make eye contact as she twisted her fingers together in front of her, anxiety rolling off of her in waves.
She had known Santana since the other girl was nine years old and Brittany had come home from school, talking excitedly about the new girl in her fourth-grade class and how she had moved in just two streets away. Santana, and by default, Quinn, had become nearly constant fixtures in her home since that first day. The two girls were always so careful and so very guarded which is why she had been surprised that afternoon when Brittany told her that Santana had asked her to babysit her twin siblings because their mother was sick. She had only had a few brief interactions with the twins. Shelby asked her to watch them once or twice but she had a hard time denying her daughter's oldest friend anything. She had been even more surprised and slightly angry when Hiram Berry had shown up at her house that afternoon, demanding Blaine and Rachel come with him and letting her know that Santana did not have permission to allow them to come to the Pierce home. Whitney had been surprised because that didn't sound like Santana at all.
"Mom-" Brittany started.
"Mrs. Pierce, I'm so sorry. I didn't-" Santana said at the same time.
Whitney just held up a hand, silencing them both with a shake of her head, "Santana, what you did this afternoon wasn't okay. You put Brittany and me in a very bad position-"
"I-I know. I'm really, really sorry," Santana interrupted, her gaze fixed on the floor and the toes of her white sneakers.
"Santana, I know you're sorry but this can't ever happen again, do you understand?" Whitney asked and Santana nodded, her eyes still fixed on the floor, "Good. Now you know we love having you and Quinn over but next time you want to bring Rachel and Blaine over I'm going to need to talk to your parents first."
Santana nodded, "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."
Whitney reached out and squeezed Santana's shoulder, "I know you are, sweetheart."
Santana released a small sigh of relief but her relief was short-lived as Whitney stopped and looked at her. Santana suddenly felt like a small child again as she looked up at her. Her eyes darted slightly, worried about what she would ask.
"Is everything okay at home, Santana?" Whitney asked seriously.
Santana felt her stomach clench and Whitney continued.
"You know that you can tell me or my husband anything, right?"
The way that her eyes bore into Santana made her ache for her mother even more. She wanted to cry and explain why she was so scared not just for herself but her siblings and her mom.
But she couldn't.
She never could.
Santana forced her features back into a neutral expression and she nodded. "Of course," she attempted confidently. "Everything is fine. It's just a mix-up. I..I shouldn't have put you in that position. I'm sorry."
Whitney held her look for a moment. Santana was unsure if she believed her at all. The woman was studying her with an almost unreadable expression on her face and it made Santana feel small, "Okay," she said finally. "I'll go get Quinn, You girls should get home."
Brittany nudged Santana with her shoulder as soon as her mom left the room, "You okay?"
"Uh-huh," Santana said offering Brittany a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "I just…it's been a long day. Your mom is pretty awesome and I should've known better. I shouldn't have asked you to watch them."
Santana felt her anxiety rise again as soon as Quinn entered the room. Santana had to fight the urge to yell at her sister to hurry up as she watched Quinn slowly put on her shoes. She knew Quinn was stalling and now was not the time, not when Santana's anxiety made her want to crawl out of her own skin and run away and Brittany was watching them so closely. She gestured for Quinn to hurry up as soon as she made eye contact with her younger sister.
Santana grabbed her younger sister's hand as soon as she was close enough for her to reach, yanking the younger girl out of the door and down the porch steps. She shouted to Brittany that she would call her tomorrow and ignored Quinn's noises of protest as she practically dragged her little sister toward the car.
"Stop pulling me, Santana," Quinn spat, yanking her hand from Santana's so forcefully that the other girl nearly toppled over.
"Just get in the car," Santana told her younger sister. She didn't have time for this. Blaine and Rachel didn't have time for this. She couldn't tell if Quinn was actually moving in slow motion or if the panic Santana felt in every fiber of her being was making everything seem faster and yet somehow slower at the same time.
Quinn rolled her eyes as she slid into the passenger seat of the car, throwing her backpack in the backseat as she slammed the door shut with more force than necessary. She only felt the slightest amount of guilt when she saw Santana jump at the sound of the slamming door.
"Santana, I know…I know about Rachel," Quinn blurted out. Her words had the desired effect as she watched her sister fumble to put the keys in the ignition and that slight slip in her sister's composure told Quinn all she needed to know.
"Know what about Rachel?"
"Don't fucking do that. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Someone…Hiram is hurting her."
Santana drew in a breath, as she turned the key over in the ignition, "H-how?"
Quinn shrugged, "I saw the bruises. She-she doesn't know that I know. I don't…I don't think anyone else saw them."
Quinn found herself watching Rachel more closely that day. She knew something was going on with her baby sister and she knew Santana wouldn't tell her what it was so she would have to figure it out on her own. She almost wished she had just listened to Santana and left it alone. She only caught the slightest glimpse of the bruises that were left on Rachel when her younger sister's shirt rode up in the back when she was reaching for something from a cabinet. But that was enough. She didn't need to see more because she knew exactly what Santana had been concealing from her earlier that morning.
She hadn't been able to do anything at that moment but sprint into Brittany's bathroom, as her stomach seized violently and she couldn't let Rachel see her tears. It was then that all the pieces slid into place. She understood why Rachel had been so scared that morning and why Santana had been so insistent on having the twins stay at Brittany's that afternoon. She knew the things Hiram did to Santana and had helped clean up bruises that Hiram had left on Noah's skin but Rachel was his kid. Nothing made sense because Quinn had always thought he reserved the worst for Santana and Noah because they weren't his but they had all been wrong.
Quinn hadn't been able to ignore her guilt. She should have noticed something was going on with Rachel. Santana was always so busy with cheer and work and Noah was doing whatever it was that Noah did, but Quinn was always around them. She should've been able to do what Santana had always done for her. She was a terrible big sister. If Quinn had taken the time to pay attention, she would have noticed that Rachel was quieter lately and seemed to cling to Santana and Quinn more when they were home. Instead, all she noticed was how much more Rachel seemed to annoy her. It seemed like they had argued more in the last few weeks than they ever had before. Her baby sister could be a pest when she wanted to be and having her constantly attached to them, drove Quinn crazy in a way that she couldn't quite identify. She never thought that the younger girl's behavior was because she was afraid or because she was being hurt.
She was barely able to contain her panic that evening when Hiram showed up at Brittany's house. She hid in the darkness of the stairwell with Brittany, grateful that Hiram barely glanced in her direction. She hadn't missed the flash of fear in Rachel's eyes as she left or the way that Blaine seemed to follow their dad with trepidation. It was only moments later that Quinn was begging Brittany to call Santana, using her phone to send her older sister frantic text messages and trying to ignore the question in Brittany's eyes at her sudden panic or the way Mrs. Pierce seemed to hover over them. She knew they had questions about her sudden panic but she was glad that they never asked.
"Quinn-"
"What're you gonna do?"
"I..Q..I don't know."
"We can't just do nothing. We can't just let him hurt her. We've gotta-"
"Don't you think I fucking know that?" Santana exploded, coasting the car next to an empty lot down the street from their house. She couldn't have this conversation with Quinn and drive even if she was only going fifteen miles an hour, "I'm trying, Q. I'm trying, and I…I just don't know what to do."
"You can't just give up. It's…it's Rachel." Quinn whispered.
"I know that," Santana replied, her voice shaky and small and so foreign to her ears, as she swallowed a sob, "What do you want me to do?"
Santana had never felt younger than she did at that moment. She was just a kid, too. She was barely holding herself together and now Quinn was asking her to hold them together. But what could she do? She had done the only thing she could think of that night and it had all blown up in her face. She wasn't any smarter or more capable than her sister, she was just better at pretending that she had all the answers.
Quinn studied Santana as she guided the car back onto the road, her sister never seeming as small as she did at that moment, "We could tell someone. We could tell Mrs. Pierce or-or–"
Santana shook her head fiercely, the road swimming in her vision before Quinn could name the last person Santana wanted to think about, "No. No. Absolutely not."
"She's our aunt, S. She's mom's sister. She could help."
"I. Don't. Care. Don't even think about it, Q," Santana bit out as they pulled into their driveway, Quinn opening her mouth to protest, "I mean it."
Quinn sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as she slumped down in her seat, "She's an adult. She could do more than we can."
"Please, stop."
Santana couldn't think about their aunt now. She couldn't focus on anything but the nervous churning of her stomach as she stared at her house. Hiram's car was still parked in the driveway which shouldn't have surprised her but a small part of her had hoped that he would've just gone back to work after bringing the twins home. She needed to get out of the car and face whatever was waiting for her but she couldn't. Her legs weren't cooperating. She couldn't remember the last time that she had felt like this. She could feel her chest tighten as her heart raced and she didn't know if she could do this. She couldn't stop picturing the things Hiram could be doing to Rachel in that house. She clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white as she laid her forehead against it fighting to get her breathing under control.
She always felt like she knew what to expect when it came to him. His moods were unpredictable but his actions weren't. She knew what the creaking of her bedroom door late at night meant. She expected his violence and his anger when she mouthed off or did any of the million ridiculous things that he decided were disrespectful. She had never done this before. She never challenged his control over the youngest children. She had always been too afraid, afraid of what would happen to them if she did. She couldn't get out of the car because she didn't know what to expect when she opened that door.
"San," Quinn said, as she placed a gentle handle on the small of her older sister's back. Santana didn't lift her head from the steering wheel as she turned her head to meet Quinn's eyes. Quinn felt the breath leave her lungs at the intensity of Santana's gaze. She could feel Santana trembling and she didn't think she had ever seen her sister look so scared, "We should go inside."
Santana sighed and nodded, wiping under her eyes as she climbed out of the car. She took a deep breath as she steeled her spine and hardened her gaze. She couldn't let Hiram sense any fear. She couldn't let him have the satisfaction of knowing that he still had even the smallest amount of power over her and her emotions. She felt Quinn reach for her hand as they made their way to the front door, but she batted it away, offering her sister a small regretful smile over her shoulder. Quinn couldn't hold her hand. Santana could already picture the sneer that would paint Hiram's lips if they walked into the house holding hands. She couldn't hold her sister's hand because she knew Quinn would feel her shaking and she could barely keep it together as it was.
Santana knew that something was off as soon as she opened the front door. Something was wrong and it made the hair on the back of her neck and her arms stand up as a shiver made its way up her spine. The house was too quiet and too still. It was only nine, it shouldn't have been this quiet. She could hear the sound of the TV from the den and its murmur interrupted the silence but that was it. She had expected to see Hiram waiting for them in the foyer. She had expected screaming and shouting not this eerie silence.
She flipped on the foyer light, her stomach flipping with trepidation. She half expected to see Hiram standing there only a few feet away when the light turned on and that she had somehow missed him in the darkness. She gasped and stepped back unconsciously nearly stepping on Quinn when the light illuminated just how wrong things were. The table that stood in the entryway, the same table Noah had fought with last night, was flipped on its side. The force of whatever had caused it to flip over had knocked the drawer open and papers were strewn across the floor. She could see glass littering the floor, glistening and gleaming, under the beams of light, seemingly mocking her. Her gaze settled on the dark smears of red that stood out against the pale wood of the floor and made a trail toward the living room. Blood. The red splotches and smears were someone's blood. Someone was bleeding and she didn't know who.
"Santana," Quinn said, her voice small and childlike, her words lilting as if asking a question.
Quinn. She had nearly forgotten Quinn was behind her. Quinn couldn't be here. Santana didn't know what she would find as she made her way further into the house but she knew she didn't want Quinn here for it. She needed to get Quinn out of there.
She spun around and shoved Quinn backward out the door. Quinn made a noise that was half-squeak, half-groan, her eyes widening in surprise. Quinn tried to move away from Santana and move back into the house but Santana was holding her upper arms firmly, effectively keeping Quinn pinned in place. She was already an inch taller than Santana but her sister was strong and she found that she couldn't fight against her.
"Santana, you're hurting me." She whined and Santana loosened her grip slightly but still not enough for Quinn to break it.
"Quinn, I need you to leave. I need you to go back to Britt's."
Quinn's brow furrowed in confusion as she tried once again to maneuver out of her sister's grasp unsuccessfully, craning her neck to try to see around the other girl. Santana was scared. She could see the fear in her sister's eyes, feel it in the way Santana's hands trembled where she was holding her, and hear it in the change in Santana's breathing, "What-what happened? What did you see?"
"N-nothing," Santana said, shaking her head, "Not yet. But you can't be here. I-I don't know what happened but I need you to leave. I need-"
"Santana, please, tell me what's going on. You're scaring me," Quinn begged, cutting her older sister off, tears splashing down her cheeks.
"I..I know. I'm sorry. I just…please, Quinn, just go. Go to Britt's. Call 911, and then call Noah," Santana demanded and she saw a look of recognition flash on her younger sister's face as she nodded.
She knew Quinn had her own phone and could easily have just done as Santana asked from where they were standing but this was the only way she could think to get Quinn away from there. Quinn nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks once Santana released her. Santana stood there as she watched Quinn take off at a run, her blonde hair and white shoes all she could make out in the darkness of the front yard. She couldn't go inside, not yet, she needed to make sure Quinn listened to her. She needed to make sure Quinn left. She didn't know how long she stood there before she turned to make her way back into the house.
….
Quinn didn't think she had ever run so hard in her life as she cut across her neighbor's front lawns and backyards following the familiar shortcut to Brittany's house two streets over. She had walked this path so many times that she was able to move on autopilot. Her lungs burned with the need for oxygen, feeling as if they were on fire and her legs shook, her calves and feet aching with each slap against the unforgiving ground.
She nearly slid on the steps up to Brittany's front door, the slick bottoms of her cheer shoes struggling to find purchase on the wood of the porch. Her heart leapt in her chest as her arms pinwheeled as she fought to stay upright. She bent over at the waist, panting as she struggled to pull air in her lungs using one hand to pound on Brittany's front door. She knew she was being loud but she didn't care. Santana was scared and something was wrong and she just needed them to open the door.
Brittany flung the door open, Quinn barely having time to stop the forward motion of her hand to keep from hitting Brittany, "Quinn?"
Quinn couldn't speak. She couldn't do anything but gasp and shake. She just needed to ask Brittany for her phone and she couldn't even do that. Her words were silenced by her need to pull air into her lungs and keep the contents of her stomach where they were. Brittany reached out for Quinn, attempting to pull her upright, trying to usher in the house but Quinn held up one hand to keep Brittany from coming any closer.
"Phone," She gasped out, "Britt, I-I need your phone. Please, Britt."
Brittany's brow furrowed in confusion as she nodded, "Yeah. Okay. Come inside, Quinn."
Brittany reached out her hand and this time Quinn grabbed onto it as she allowed Brittany to lead her into the house. Quinn clutched Brittany's hand tighter than she needed to, clinging to her older sister's best friend like a port in a storm. She tried not to think about Santana, about Santana alone at the house, or about what her sister might be seeing. She couldn't think about that and stay here. She allowed herself to do nothing more than repeat Santana's instructions in her head like a mantra. Call 911. Call Noah. Stay. The repetitiveness of the instructions gave her something to focus on.
"Britt, who's at-" Whitney asked as she entered the foyer, pulling her robe around her, the questions dying on her lips when her gaze settled on Quinn. Quinn knew she must look like a mess, panting, sweating, and shaking in their entryway. Tears filled her eyes and splashed down her cheek at the tenderness in the older woman's gaze, "Quinn, sweetheart, what's wrong?"
Quinn shook her head, swallowing thickly as she tried to swallow back her tears, "I…I need to use your phone. I have to call 911."
"911?' Whitney asked, rushing forward as she placed her hands on either side of Quinn's face, "Quinn, are you hurt?"
Quinn shook her head fiercely as the older woman studied her features for any sign of what could be wrong. Quinn was fine. She wasn't hurt. She didn't even know if anyone was hurt but if the fear she felt from her older sister was any indication, she knew someone probably was, "I'm fine. I'm not hurt. Please, I just need to use the phone."
"Is Santana-" Whitney started.
"Mom, please," Brittany said cutting her mother off as she pressed the family's cordless phone into Quinn's hand.
Quinn let out a small sob but her hands were shaking too hard and the numbers were blurred with the tears in her eyes and she couldn't just dial the three digits she needed. Brittany seemed to recognize her struggle, pulling the phone from Quinn's hand as she dialed the numbers for her. Quinn turned her back on the Pierce woman as she listened to the ringing in her ear and waited for the call to connect. She could tell they were having a silent conversation about her but she couldn't focus on that now. Quinn could only focus on her breathing and the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears, threatening to drown out the dispatcher's voice.
She became vaguely aware of Brittany holding her hand and Mrs. Pierce smoothing her hair as she spoke, trying to do anything to comfort her. She would've normally welcomed the comfort but it was too much. Their touches were too overwhelming, making her feel claustrophobic, her chest tightening uncomfortably as she pulled away from them to pace the floor. She could feel the panic rise as the dispatcher began to ask her questions she couldn't answer, questions she didn't have the answer to. She couldn't tell them exactly what was wrong and they kept asking if someone was hurt but Quinn didn't know so she lied and told the dispatcher someone was because it was better than repeating "I don't know" for what felt like the tenth time. She had seen the fear and the panic in her older sister's eyes and knew it was bad. Santana wouldn't have wanted her to call 911 unless someone was really hurt. She didn't know how much time had passed before the dispatcher was assuring her that help was on the way and disconnected the call.
She held the phone out to Brittany again, not trusting her shaky fingers to dial Noah's familiar number, "Can you please call Noah?"
Brittany nodded, taking the phone as Quinn repeated his number from memory. Quinn found herself hoping that her brother was still sober, praying that he answered the unfamiliar number. He had been absent so much lately but tonight, tonight Quinn felt an ache for her big brother that was unfamiliar. They had never really been close and sometimes, Quinn thought he blamed her for his dad leaving. But she needed him tonight. He would know what to do. He had always known how to calm Santana, how to help her.
Quinn felt something in her chest loosen when he answered on the second ring, grunting a hello, annoyance evident in his voice but she didn't care. He could be pissed later.
"Noah?" She whispered, her voice soft and shaky, tears falling down her cheeks once again and she needed to stop crying. She wouldn't make it through this conversation if she couldn't stop crying.
"Quinn? What's wrong?" Noah questioned, gesturing for Finn to pause the video game they were playing. He strained to hear Quinn's voice, her voice so soft and so small. She sounded so young and he could hear the tears that laced her voice and something that sounded like fear in the way she whispered his name.
"I-I-don't know. Noah, you need to come home. S-something's wrong. San…she..she didn't tell me what but she-she's..she's at the house. She told me to call 911 but I-I don't know why."
"Shit!" Noah cursed and Quinn flinched at the anger in his voice on the other end of the phone, "Quinn, listen, this is really important, besides Santana, who else was home?"
"San..she wasn't..we just got home, but Hiram was there with mom, and the twins," Quinn told him as he cursed again but this time his voice was softer and less angry, "Noah, what am I supposed to do? What do I do? What if he…what if he-"
"Breathe, Quinn. You need to calm down, okay?" Noah told her, "Where are you anyway?"
"Britt's..but Noah, what..what does that matter?"
"Listen to me. I want you to stay there. I'm on my way home. Finn's mom's gonna drive me but I need you to stay with Brittany. Don't go back home."
Quinn shook her head, knowing her brother couldn't see her, "No. Noah, I can't. I can't just…San's all alone. She's all by herself. I..I can get there faster than you. I can't..I can't just do nothing."
"Stay there, Quinn. I mean it," Noah said as he hung up the phone. She wanted to protest, tell him she wasn't a dog that he could just command to stay but all she heard was the dial tone ringing in her ear.
Quinn just shook her head as she hung up her phone. She couldn't stay at Brittany's. She had followed all of Santana's instructions but she couldn't follow her last instruction. She couldn't just do nothing. Santana had done nothing but protect her for years and she couldn't leave her sister to deal with whatever had happened at their home alone. Blaine and Rachel were her little siblings too. She couldn't just leave Santana alone. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that they always expected her to just stay away, to just stay put. She wouldn't do that, not tonight.
"Quinn," Brittany said approaching the frightened, panicked girl slowly like a caged animal as she had with Santana earlier. She didn't know what was going on but she had heard Noah's instructions through the phone and she knew she need to keep Quinn here.
"Quinn, sweetheart, why don't you let me drive you home? We can go together to check on Santana." Whitney offered as she too took the opportunity to approach Quinn.
Quinn just continued to shake her head furiously, "You can't. You don't..you don't understand. I can't..I can't stay here. I gotta..I gotta go. I'm really sorry."
Quinn brushed past them, racing out the front door and down the porch steps. Brittany had used Quinn's momentary distraction to slip on her shoes, following Quinn as she shouted to her mother to meet them at Santana's.
Quinn could hear the sound of Brittany's shoes slapping the pavement behind her as she ran and she should've known the other girl would follow her. But she couldn't think of anything beyond the buzzing in her head. She tried to ignore the burning in her muscles and the lightheaded feeling that caused her head to swim. She was afraid she would faint if she stopped moving for even a minute. She stopped abruptly when arrived at her own house.
The door was still thrown wide open but the house was still silent. She shook her head to clear the black spots that had appeared in her vision as soon as she stopped moving. She could feel her pulse pounding in her chest as adrenaline caused her legs to shake and wobble as she made her way slowly to the front door. She felt sick and she had to swallow against the bile that suddenly coated her throat. The house shouldn't still be this quiet and this still. The door shouldn't still be wide open. She took a deep breath and held it as she made her way into the foyer. She barely noticed the overturned table or the papers she dodged or the glass that crunched under her feet as she made her way to the living room. She wanted to call out to Santana but then her eyes settled on the scene in front of her in the living room and anything she wanted to say died on her lips as all she could do was let out a blood-curdling, ear-piercing shriek.
…
Santana waited until Quinn was well out of sight before she turned and went back into the house. Her legs trembled as if she had just run a mile and, her heart beat mouse-quick in her chest as she made her way further inside. The first thing she noticed when she walked back into the house, was the smell. It was a metallic coppery odor with a hint of something sweeter underneath it so pungent that she could almost taste it. She swallowed reflexively against the nausea that she could feel rising in the pit of her stomach. The smell was so strange and unfamiliar that she had to take a deep breath to keep from vomiting. She buried her nose in the crook of her elbow, as she took care to breathe only through her mouth.
She sidestepped the mess in the foyer, grateful that she had not taken off her shoes when she heard the crunch of glass below her. She looked down to see the amber-colored glass of a liquor bottle littering the floor beneath her feet. The smell grew more overwhelming the closer she got to the living room. She could see the low light of the TV flickering on the wall, but the room was so dark that she couldn't see anything further inside the room. She fumbled for the light switch on the wall. Her nausea overwhelmed her as she took in the site in front of her, vomiting on the carpet, not worried about the mess she was making. She clutched at the wall as another wave of sickness washed over her, forcing herself to stay upright as her legs threatened to give out and send her careening to the floor.
She used the back of her hand to wipe the vomit from her lips and she used the other to push herself away from the wall as she made her way into the living room. The living room looked like it had been ransacked. Clothes were strewn and littered throughout the room, some she recognized as her own and some she recognized as her siblings or her mom's. She saw suitcases and duffel bags as well, overturned and crumpled and she didn't understand where they had all come from. And then she saw the blood, there was so much blood, the coppery scent hung thick and oppressive in the air. The off-white color of the carpet was nearly black in some places with the saturation of the blood. She didn't think anyone could survive losing that much blood. Her stomach clenched dangerously again as she gagged, but she wouldn't be sick again. She couldn't be.
She forced her mind to go blank when she saw her mom. Her mom was lying there in the middle of the living room, blood pooled around her as it seeped into the carpet. All this blood was Shelby's. It was her mother's blood that had darkened the carpet. Her mom was lying so still and silent in the center of the room, her limbs splayed in an unnatural position, her hair partially obscuring her face as her neck tilted to face the opposite wall.
Santana bit her lip against the screams she wanted to emit, the pressure building in her chest as she held them back. She lurched forward on wobbly legs, nearly pitching face-first into the blood-soaked carpet as she made her way toward Shelby. She gagged again as her feet made a sickening, squelching sound as they sank into the wet carpet. Her mom was dead, and her mind screamed. Her mom had to be dead. No one could survive losing this much blood. But Santana couldn't just leave her. She couldn't just leave her mom, cold and broken on the floor, not without making sure. She needed her mom and she needed to make sure that there was nothing she could do to save her or somehow fix this. This was all her fault. She couldn't just leave her here alone.
She knew Hiram had done this but she didn't know where he was now. Her heartbeat picked up again as she realized that he could still be somewhere in the house, waiting for her. It wasn't until she reached Shelby's prone form that she saw him. He was slumped against the farthest wall in the living room, his body positioned in a way that he faced Shelby. His chin was nearly touching his chest and she could see blood and something thicker coating the wall behind and it caused her stomach to clench. She saw that a gun lay on the floor beside one of his outstretched hands. Santana didn't even know he owned a gun. Had he shot her mom?
She forced herself to look away from Hiram as she fell to her knees beside her mother's prone form, hovering her hands over her mother as she tried to decide what she should do. She tried to ignore the way her knees sank into the saturated carpet, the sound it made was like sinking into the wet sand at the beach. She tried to ignore the fact that the carpet was saturated with her mother's blood. She didn't care that her pants would be ruined because her mom was bleeding and probably dead, maybe shot and she needed to do something.
"Mom? Mommy?" Santana whispered, cringing at how small her voice sounded. Shelby didn't move and she knew she probably wouldn't.
Santana's eyes roved over her mother's form surveying the damage that Hiram had done. Shelby's eyes were closed and to Santana, it looked almost as if her mother was asleep, but her mouth was open, stuck in a silent scream and it made Santana's chest ache. She could see that her mother's face was swollen and bruised in some places. The swelling was most noticeable under her eyes and over the bridge of her noticeably broken nose. She could see the trickle of blood that ran from her mom's nostril to her upper lip and she had to fight the urge to wipe it away.
She allowed her gaze to fall from her mother's face to the rest of her body, trying to figure out where she could stem the bleeding. She saw the many oval-shaped wounds that littered her mother's torso and abdomen through the dark almost black blood that coated Shelby's shirt. Santana knew that the shirt her mother wore had been white once. She didn't even know what type of weapon made wounds like that. They didn't look like gunshot wounds. She moved on instinct as she pressed her hands firmly to the largest wound on the left side of her mother's chest, vaguely remembering her first aid training. The blood that coated her mom's form was cold and slightly tacky, nearly dry and not as warm as it should be.
"Mom, please." Santana cried, tears falling down her cheeks.
She was suddenly acutely aware of the futility of trying to stem the flow of blood that had already stopped long before Santana arrived. Her mother's skin felt unnaturally cool and firm. There was no telltale rise and fall of her chest or rasping of breath from her mom's open mouth. She had her hand right over her mom's heart and she didn't feel anything, no steady thump-thump that would indicate that there was any life left in her mom's body. She was just gone. She pulled her hands away from her mom as if she was burned, nearly choking on the sob that got stuck in her throat as she tenderly brushed her mother's hair back from her face.
She pushed herself to her feet, closing her eyes against the spinning of her head that nearly forced her back to her knees. Her pants clung uncomfortably to her skin where the blood had soaked into them, her mother's blood coating her knees and her hands. She had done this. She hadn't hurt her mom, that had been Hiram but she was the catalyst that lit the match. Blaine and Rachel were here. They were here somewhere in this house. They had been here the whole time. What if Hiram had hurt them too?
She felt numb and sick at the same time. She shook her head against the images that had entered her mind unwillingly. She couldn't help but see the images of her siblings' tiny forms, blood-soaked and unmoving, dead just like their mother. She needed to find them. She scanned the living room for any sign of the twins and let out a shaky, relieved breath when she didn't see them. She knew there was only one place that Blaine and Rachel could have hidden away. Somewhere that she had taught them could be their safe place whenever things got too scary.
She stumbled from the living room on shaky legs and for one split second, she thought about checking on Hiram. She wanted to make sure he was really gone but then she remembered the mess on the wall behind him and knew there was no point. Her legs shook as she raced up the stairs, calling her younger siblings' names. Her movements were frantic and uncoordinated in a way that Santana normally wasn't, causing her to miss a step on the stairs and nearly slide back down. She gripped tightly to the banister, her knees burning and stinging from sliding against the carpet. She forced herself to slow down then, not wanting to further injure herself as she made her way upstairs.
She didn't understand why they weren't answering her. She wasn't a praying person but she offered up a silent one as she made her way into her bedroom. She needed them to be okay. She didn't know what she would do if they weren't okay. She had already done enough and she wouldn't be able to deal if he had done something to hurt them. Her hand shook with anxiety as she pushed open her closet door, hoping that she would find Blaine and Rachel in the depths, tucked in amongst her clothes and shoes. The sound of their frightened whimpers met her ears at the same time that the acrid smell of vomit and the pungent aroma of urine entered her nostrils. Her stomach flipped dangerously at the smell as she struggled to keep herself from vomiting again.
Her eyes settled on Blaine and Rachel. They had buried themselves as far back in the recesses of the closet as they could, pressed tightly against the wall in an attempt to hide in the clothes that hung above them. She could see that they had unconsciously mirrored each other's positions, their legs pulled tightly to their chests as they wrapped their small arms tightly around them trying to make themselves as small as possible. But Blaine's head was pressed to his knees firmly, where Rachel's head was buried against his shoulder, a plastic bag they must have found, clutched in her fist. She fell to her knees in front of them, as she scanned the parts of their bodies that she could see for injuries.
"Hey, Blaine. Rachel," Santana whispered keeping her voice soft and Blaine's head snapped up at the sound of his older sister's voice, Rachel letting out a soft sound of protest at the sudden shift in movement.
"Sanny?" Blaine breathed out, his voice tiny and quivering with tears as he used the familiar nickname for his sister, a nickname he hadn't used in years.
Blaine didn't know how long he and Rachel had been hiding in this closet but it felt like forever. Everything had been so loud, his dad was screaming and his mom was crying and Rachel was throwing up and he was so scared. But then everything had gone silent and yet they still didn't move. He didn't want his dad to know where they were and he didn't know if his dad his left or why his mom stopped screaming. They had been there long enough that his legs felt numb and cramped from staying in the same position for so long but at least Rachel had stopped throwing up.
Now Santana was there and he didn't know where she had been. She had lied to them. She had told them her dad wouldn't find them at Brittany's but he had. He wanted to be mad at her, to yell at her for lying to them but he was mostly just glad that they weren't alone anymore. He didn't want to be here anymore and he knew Santana would get them out of this closet.
"Are you okay?' Santana asked scooting back, so she was resting on her heels to get a better look at them.
Blaine shook his head, his cheeks coloring with shame, "N-no. I had an accident."
"I threw up," Rachel mumbled.
"That's-that's okay," She told them, "Did he..did he hurt you?"
She received no response from either of her siblings. Rachel still had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, moaning softly and Blaine was staring at her but his gaze was unfocused, his face suddenly pale, and his mouth ajar. Santana remembered then that she was covered in blood, their mom's blood. She had probably tracked it into the closet with her on the soles of her shoes.
"Sanny is that-" Blaine wondered and Santana silenced him with a shake of her head before turning her attention to Rachel
His older sister was covered in blood. He wanted to ask her whose blood it was. He could see red splotches on the carpet of the closet. Blood that wasn't there only minutes before and he didn't understand. Somebody was hurt and Santana wouldn't tell him who or why she even had blood covering her skin. He focused his gaze on a splotch of red on the toe of Santana's shoe, biting his lip as he fought to keep himself from blurting out all of his questions.
"Rach, I need you to look at me, I need to make sure you are okay," Santana explained to Rachel, cupping her cheek. The other girl just shook her head, pulling her knees tighter to her chest as she fought to keep her face buried in them.
"Too bright. Hurts." Rachel moaned, trying to block out the offending light, "Don't feel good."
Santana glanced at Blaine, confusion painted across her features at Rachel's moaned words. Her little brother said that Hiram hadn't hurt them but Rachel was clearly injured. She needed her little brother to explain to her what happened.
"He shoved her and she-she fell. She hit her head. Then we came up here." Blaine explained an edge of hysteria in his voice.
He remembered the terror of watching as his father flung Rachel away from him with such force that she had slipped on the wood of the entryway. Her head made a sickening thud as it bounced off the bottom stair. Rachel had laid there for a beat unmoving. It had been his fear at that moment that had caused him to lose control of his bladder, the urine splashing against the wood of the floor, and soaking into his sock and the front of his jeans.
"Okay, we need to get you out of here," Santana told him as she stood, reaching out her hand for Blaine to hold. Blaine nodded as he took his older sister's hand, allowing her to help him to his feet.
Santana saw the damp patch on the front of Blaine's jeans and her eyes filled with tears. Her heart was breaking for both of them. She could only imagine how terrified they had been hiding in the darkness of the closet alone. She could only imagine what they heard and what they had seen in the time they had been home alone with their parents. She couldn't help but wonder how much of what happened downstairs they had witnessed. She hadn't protected them at all. She had left them here in this house with their parents dead bodies a floor below.
She didn't know how she was going to get them out of this house. Shelby and Hiram were dead. Blaine and Rachel didn't know that yet and she couldn't let them see the scene that had greeted her in the living room. She couldn't protect them from being here tonight but she needed to find a way to keep them from seeing the gore in the living room.
Her thoughts were shattered by the terrified scream that pierced through the silence of the house. Blaine dropped back to the ground, hands covering his ears as he scooted back against the wall, slotting himself in beside Rachel once again. Santana's heart leapt in her chest as she realized that scream could only have belonged to one person. Quinn. Quinn wasn't supposed to be here. Quinn couldn't be here.
Santana raced from the room as Blaine shouted at her not to leave them. The sounds of Blaine's shouts mixed with the sound of the terrified scream from the floor below. She took the stairs two at a time as her eyes settled on Quinn. Quinn, who was supposed to be at Brittany's, standing at the entrance to the living room. Santana cursed herself silently for having forgotten to shut off the living room light. She slid to a stop beside Quinn. Quinn did not acknowledge Santana's presence beside her, her eyes fixed on their mother's prone form, still screaming and Santana's ears rang as she winced at the volume.
Santana grabbed Quinn by the shoulders as she spun her around to face her. Quinn stopped screaming then, the feeling of Santana's hands on her arms served to break her attention from the scene in the living room. She may have stopped screaming but she fought against the grip Santana had on her arms, twisting and turning to try to break her grasp.
"Quinn! Quinn!" Santana shouted, shaking Quinn slightly.
She needed Quinn to stop fighting her.
Her words broke through Quinn's haze as all the fight seemed to drain from her younger sister's body. Quinn slumped forward with exhaustion, panting and sweating, Santana's grip on her arms the only thing that kept her upright. Santana searched her sister's face and saw the unfocused, blank look in her eyes as she stared at something beyond Santana's shoulder, blinking slowly. She didn't understand why her stubborn little sister couldn't have just listened to her but she didn't have time to be angry. She couldn't be angry at Quinn when she could still hear Blaine's cries from upstairs and see Brittany standing in the doorway.
Neither of them should be here.
Santana adjusted her grip so she was holding Quinn by the elbow, practically dragging her sister to the front door. Quinn's steps were uncoordinated and mechanical and Santana knew her gaze was once again fixed on the sight in the living room as they made their way to the doorway.
"Britt, take Quinn outside and stay there. Don't let her come back in here," Santana instructed, confusion and concern written across her best friend's features as she wrapped her arm around Quinn's waist, "I've gotta go get Blaine and Rachel."
Santana watched as Brittany led Quinn from the house before turning to make her way upstairs. This time though she remembered to shut off the damn living room light, averting her eyes as the living room was once again blanketed in darkness. She found Blaine and Rachel in the same positions she had left them in but Blaine's screams had been silenced and he was doing little more than shaking with the force of the sobs that were wracking his tiny body. Rachel no longer had her head buried in her knees, instead, she was dry heaving, a plastic bag held between her knees as her body shook with the force of each heave.
"Who was that, Sanny? Who was screaming? Why were they screaming? Is someone hurt?" Blaine asked, his questions coming in rapid-fire succession, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice and only growing with each question.
Santana bent down next to Rachel, rubbing her back soothingly as she made eye contact with Blaine, holding his terrified gaze with her own, "Blaine, don't worry about that now, okay? We are all okay and we are going to get you out of here, got it?"
Blaine nodded, wiping his running nose and wet eyes with the back of his hands. Santana could see the bruising and swelling that colored Rachel's cheekbone now as she soothed her sister through the waves of sickness. She didn't know how long she had remained crouched next to her little sister until her heaves had turned to nothing more than infrequent coughs. Santana motioned for Blaine to stand as she lifted Rachel into her arms. Rachel wrapped her legs around Santana's waist and her arms around Santana's neck as she squeezed just a little too tightly, before burying her head in the space where Santana's neck met her shoulder.
Santana surveyed her closet as she tried to work out a way to get both of them downstairs without them catching a glimpse of the horror in their living room. She had turned out the light but she needed to make sure that there was no chance that they would see anything as they made their way outside. Her eyes settled on one of Quinn's old wool scarves that hung on a hanger towards the back of the closet. She could use it as a makeshift blindfold for Blaine, maybe she could turn something horrific into a game, a distraction from everything that had happened that night, and protect them at the same time.
"San," Rachel mumbled against her neck, pulling her from her thoughts as she pulled the scarf from its hanger, "You told us he wouldn't know."
Rachel's words hit her like a punch in the gut as her baby sister brought a voice to her darkest thoughts. Santana felt the air leave her lung in a surprised whoosh as she deflated, nearly causing Rachel to fall to the ground, "I-I know, munchkin, I'm so sorry."
She felt Rachel nod against her next neck, her next words partially obscured by a yawn, "Don't be mad at Mommy, okay?"
Santana felt a tear trickle down her cheek as she nodded in response to Rachel's words. Santana had expected to feel anger at her mom when she arrived home that night. She had been angry at her for so long for so many things but now, now she didn't know how to feel. She didn't feel anything. She couldn't feel anything. She knew she would but right now she just needed to get them out of there. She held tightly to Blaine's hand and clutched Rachel closer to her chest, whispering to the small girl not to lift her head. She could hear the sirens wailing in the distance and knew she only had moments to get them out of the house.
"Blaine, we are gonna play a game okay?" She told him crouching down in front of him when they reached the landing to the first-floor stairs, careful not to jostle Rachel in her arms.
Blaine's eyebrows knit together as he frowned, "What kind of game?"
"I'm gonna put this scarf around your eyes and I'm gonna lead you downstairs. You are gonna have to be real quiet and listen to me so you know where to step, kinda like Simon Says?"
Blaine's frown deepened as he stared at Santana, "That game sounds kind of scary. What if I fall?"
Santana wanted to sob in frustration as her overly cautious brother mulled over his decision. They really didn't have time for this, "I won't let you fall, bud. I've got you. Don't you trust me?"
Blaine paused, chewing his lower lip. He trusted Santana but she had told him their dad wouldn't know that they broke the rules. But she had been wrong. He knew. He always knew and now Rachel was hurt and he didn't know where their mom was.
"Blaine, please," Santana begged, a sob causing her words to sound broken. He nodded as he allowed Santana to wrap the scarf around his eyes. He agreed because his sister looked so sad and so scared and it made his chest ache. His heartbeat pounded in his chest and he could hear it in his ears as everything went dark. He reached a hand blindly for Santana's, his other arm clutching at her leg as they moved down the stairs. Her voice was soothing above him as she told him when to step and when to stop, the repetitiveness of her instructions helping to slow his heart rate.
Santana focused on nothing more than moving them forward through the house. Rachel's weight in her arms and the softness of Blaine's hand in hers grounded her, keeping her from stopping. She needed to focus on them because if she didn't she would focus on the fact that their mom was laying ten feet away, her body growing cold as she lay exposed on the floor of the living room. She focused on Blaine and Rachel because if she didn't she would focus on the fact that this moment would be the last moment she would spend in the same place with her mom. She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she realized she would be leaving her mom here alone with the man she had married and the man who had taken her away. Santana could only focus on moving because if she didn't she would focus on the emptiness that had settled under her skin. She knew she should feel something, hate, anger, or even some mix of sadness but she just felt empty.
The cool night air licked at Santana's skin causing her to shiver, the hair on her arms standing up as goosebumps rose across her skin as soon as they made it outside. She realized the sirens had stopped now and she could see the red and blue lights bouncing off the houses in her neighborhood and on the faces of her siblings where the emergency vehicles had come to stop in the street in front of their house. She had been focused on moving them out of the house and now she found that she couldn't move. She knew they needed to keep moving but she was frozen in place.
She felt Blaine grip tighter at her hand, his grip almost bruising as he crushed her fingers together uncomfortably. Rachel whimpered against her neck that her head hurt, that it was too bright and, Santana could feel her little sister's hot tears sliding down her skin and pooling into the collar of her shirt from where Rachel's face was pressed against her neck. For a moment it was as if Santana was underwater. She saw the frantic motion around her as the police officers and paramedics moved in and out of the house. She could hear their shouts, their murmured conversations but everything sounded muffled and faraway, incoherent. She couldn't move or speak. She was only able to feel the erratic beat of her own heart, the dampness of Rachel's tears on her skin, and the warmth of Blaine's palm in her own.
Brittany was there, standing in front of her, her lips moving but Santana was unable to make out the words she was saying, her panic increased when she realized she couldn't hear the other girl. Brittany placed her hands on Santana's shoulders as Santana's eyes darted around the front yard anxiously. The gentle touch caused everything to come rushing back as if her mind was swimming to the surface. The cacophony of different sounds crashing down around her, the noise so disorientating, so unexpectedly loud that if it hadn't been for Brittany's hands on her shoulders grounding her, she was sure she would have fallen as her head spun.
"San, San, are you okay?" Brittany asked frantically. She had been repeating that same question since Santana had come out of the house, Rachel in her arms, and Blaine clinging to her pant leg, a scarf wrapped around his eyes.
Santana had only gotten about twenty paces from her front door when she stopped, standing statue still, her eyes unfocused and glazed over. Her face remained expressionless and paler than Brittany had even thought possible, and even with the stillness of Santana's body, Brittany could see the slight tremors that shook her limbs every so often. After a few beats, Santana's eyes focused, dark eyes roving over Brittany's face, as the darker girl's brow furrowed with confusion.
Santana swallowed roughly, drawing in a deep rattling breath, trying to force her voice to cooperate, to tell Brittany that she was okay, but all she could do was shake her head. Mrs. Pierce was there too. She had led Quinn over to her siblings. Santana was vaguely aware of the older woman attempting to pull Rachel from Santana's arms. Santana's grip tightened around the little girl until Rachel whimpered as Santana fought to keep her in her arms.
She needed to protect her.
She needed to keep her safe.
They couldn't take her away.
"Santana," Whitney whispered, relinquishing her hold on Rachel momentarily, watching as Santana's eyes darted around frantically, placing her hands on either side of the girl's face, "You're safe, sweetheart, you're all safe."
Santana held eye contact with Mrs. Pierce briefly, nodding wordlessly, her eyes distant as she allowed Mrs. Pierce to take Rachel from her arms. Rachel was groggy and weak from the pain in her head, doing little more than moaning as she was shifted into a different set of arms. Rachel breathed in the lavender scent of Mrs. Pierce's perfume, the woman's steady even heartbeat soothing her, as she whispered to Rachel repeatedly that she was safe.
Santana knelt beside Blaine as she unwrapped the scarf from around his eyes. Her heart clenched at the tears she saw falling down his cheeks and the confusion written across his features as he studied the scene on the front lawn, "Go with Mrs. Pierce, okay? I'll be right behind you."
Blaine nodded as he reached for Mrs. Pierce's hand, allowing her to lead him away from the house. Santana watched as Mrs. Pierce led Rachel and Blaine away from her and in the direction of the ambulances that were parked against the curb.
She could feel Quinn's gaze on her, having nearly forgotten that the other girl was standing there. She turned to meet her sister's eyes. She saw Quinn's eyes widen, her face growing slack as the color drained from her cheeks. Santana frowned at Quinn's reaction, her brow furrowing as Quinn clamped a hand over her mouth, rushing across the lawn and away from her and Brittany. She watched as Quinn fell to her knees next to the oak tree in her front yard, the sound of vomiting reaching her ears a second later.
"Santana, are you hurt?" Brittany questioned, asking the one question she had wanted to ask since Santana had appeared from inside the house.
Her stomach had clenched painfully at the blood staining her best friend's clothes and the pristine white of her sneakers. She could see the blood coating Santana's hands and turning the dark pink of her palms scarlet red and couldn't stop staring at the crimson smear on Santana's lower jaw where she had no doubt unconsciously touched her face.
Santana shook her head slowly.
She wasn't hurt.
Her mom was dead and Rachel was hurt but not her.
She met Brittany's eyes, before glancing down at her blood-soaked pants and shoes. She raised her trembling hands to her face and she saw the blood that stained her fingers, darkening the skin around her nails.
She had forgotten.
She had forgotten that she was covered in blood, in her mom's blood. Everything came rushing back then as she stared at her blood-stained hands. She remembered the overpowering smell of copper, and the feel of her shoes sinking into the sodden carpet. She could still feel the coolness and slight tackiness of the blood that coated her mother's body and transferred to her hands as she pressed them against her mother's torso in a futile attempt to stem the bleeding that had already stopped.
Her head spun as she wavered on her feet, Brittany catching her elbow so she wouldn't fall.
Santana began to violently rub her hands together. She needed to get Shelby's blood off of her hands, off of her clothes, "It-it's not mine, Britt. It's not mine."
Brittany nodded as she watched Santana panic. Santana was scratching at the skin of her hands so violently that Brittany was afraid she would hurt herself. She grabbed Santana's hands, holding them in her own, not caring that they were soaked with blood. Santana met her gaze, her eyes wild and frantic, hysteria shining deep within them, "San, stop. You're okay."
"Oh god, I'm going to be sick."
Santana swallowed thickly as her stomach flipped and turned. She could feel the bile rising in her throat as she ran on legs that threatened to give out to the side of the house. She had enough presence of mind to feel embarrassed at the thought of vomiting in front of the many people that now swarmed her lawn. She could feel the roughness of the bricks under her hand as she clutched at the wall before doubling over and retching violently. She knew Brittany had followed her. She could feel Brittany's presence beside her as the force of her vomiting drove her to her knees. She shoved at Brittany ineffectually when the other girl reached for her trying to comfort her by rubbing her back.
Brittany couldn't touch her. She was tainted, covered in blood and death. Everything was too quiet and too loud at the same time and Brittany's attempts at comfort felt too overwhelming. She didn't deserve them. She couldn't stop the images from replaying in her mind or the guilt from gnawing at her stomach. She thought she was protecting them and now everything was so much worse.
She stood once she finished vomiting, her stomach still turning as she gasped for air and her body shook. She knew Brittany was still hovering nearby, waiting for something but she didn't know what.
Brittany shouldn't be here.
None of them should be there.
Nothing felt real.
Santana glanced down at her shaking hands, the crimson smears of blood now a dark maroon having dried in the cold night air. She saw the blood and she was back in the living room. There was so much blood and her mom was so cold and she was so alone.
Santana was alone.
She was alone, stuck in the living room, surrounded by blood and gore as her mom grew colder and Hiram didn't even look human anymore.
There was so much blood and she had to get it off. It was the only way.
It was the only way for Santana to leave that room, that moment.
It was all she could do to get unstuck.
Her clothes suddenly felt too tight and too constricting and she couldn't breathe. Her movements grew frantic as she pulled off her shoes, letting out a guttural scream as she threw them across the lawn. Her pants were next, the knees nearly black with the blood and the dirt from when she collapsed on the grass.
"Santana, stop," Brittany said, reaching for Santana's hands to still her movements as she began to unbutton her pants.
"Don't touch me!" Santana shouted as she wrenched her hands away from Brittany, turning her body towards the house to prevent Brittany from reaching for her again. She pulled her pants down her legs and saw the blood that painted her knees and her shins. Brittany didn't understand. Brittany hadn't seen what she had seen and Brittany didn't understand that this was all Santana could do.
Santana let out a strangled sob as she left her pants in a crumpled heap on the lawn, stumbling toward the garden hose that hung on the wall. The water was frigid when it hit her skin, sending a jolt through her body as she began to scrub at the blood that covered her legs. She let out a frustrated groan when despite how hard she was scrubbing, she couldn't get it off. She couldn't hold the hose and get clean at the same time. She dropped the hose to the ground, the pressure of the water causing it to whip violently, spraying both her and Brittany. She could hear Brittany let out a surprised squeak as the frigid water hit her skin.
"San, please, let me help you," Brittany told her best friend as she picked up the hose so that it was no longer spraying them.
Santana nodded as she allowed Brittany to hold the hose in front of her as she resumed scrubbing at her legs, "There's so much blood."
Santana scrubbed at her legs until the crimson smears were gone, her normally tan skin having turned pink in some places where she had used just a little too much force in removing the offending substance from her skin. She moved to her hands next, her movements practiced and methodical as she worked at removing the blood from her palms and around her nails. She jumped when she felt Brittany's tender touch on her lower jaw, the other girl pulling her hand back at the violence of Santana's reaction to the gentle touch.
"You…there's some right there," Brittany told the other girl, gesturing toward the spot she had just touched.
Santana nodded, closing her eyes as she allowed Brittany to clean the spot on her jaw. Brittany's touch was soft and soothing and Santana felt something crack inside her chest. The tears she had been struggling to contain began to fall rapidly down her cheeks and she couldn't stop them, scalding hot as they made trails down her cheeks. Her chest burned and ached with the sobs that she refused to allow to escape, afraid if she did they would be more like screams.
Brittany reached for Santana attempting to pull her into her arms but the smaller girl shook her head, backing away from Brittany slowly.
She couldn't let Brittany comfort her.
She wasn't supposed to start crying and if she let Brittany hold her or comfort her, she didn't think she would ever stop.
Her movements were stopped when she backed into the side of the house. She slid down the wall, the grass stabbing her bare thighs, a shiver running up her spine as the cold seeped into her bones.
She was so cold.
She pulled her knees towards her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she buried her face in her knees. Her tears burned where they touched her too-cold skin and she couldn't get them to stop.
Brittany watched as Santana crumpled to the ground in front of her, sympathetic tears springing to her eyes. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. Santana wouldn't let her comfort her and she still didn't understand what her best friend had seen. She watched as Santana rocked herself slightly and could see the trembling of her best friend's body but she didn't know if it was from her tears or the cold. It was September and the nights had already grown colder. She got her answer when she saw a particularly violent shiver rack her best friend's body.
Brittany crouched down in front of Santana, instinctively reaching for her but stopping when she remembered how Santana had pushed her away just a few moments before. Her hands hovered above Santana's head but she was careful not to touch her, "I'm gonna go get you some clothes out of your car. I'll be right back."
Santana shook her head against her legs, "No, Britt, please. Just…"
"But it's so cold, San, you're shivering."
"Please."
Was she really shivering? If she was, she didn't notice.
She didn't care if she froze to death on the side of her house as long as Brittany stayed with her.
She didn't want to be alone.
Her mom had been alone as she bled out on the floor of the living room.
Santana had been alone when she found her mom that night.
She didn't want to be alone anymore.
She didn't want to be alone like her mom was when she had been forced to leave her in the living room, only feet away from the man who had killed her.
She just needed Brittany to stay with her.
"Okay, San. I'll stay."
Santana's tears fell faster and harder at Brittany's assurances that she wouldn't leave. She didn't understand why she couldn't get them to stop. She wasn't supposed to be crying on the side of her house. She was supposed to be with her brothers and sisters. She wasn't supposed to fall apart. She could hear Brittany whispering and making soft shushing noises from somewhere in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest when she heard Brittany repeat the words that Mrs. Pierce had spoken earlier that night, "you're okay" and "you're safe."
She felt her tears evaporate as she focused on Brittany's words. She felt something like anger mixed with hopelessness get stuck in her chest. She wanted to yell at Brittany but it wasn't her fault. The blame was all Santana's to carry. She wasn't okay. Nothing was okay. Nothing would ever be okay again. Blaine and Rachel were probably terrified and confused and Santana should go to them but she couldn't move. Quinn hadn't listened and had seen just what Santana had and she was definitely not okay. Santana didn't even know where she was and she had no idea if Noah had even shown up. Nothing was okay.
Brittany was right about one thing though. They were safe. Hiram had seen to that when he ended his own life that night. She wondered if she was supposed to feel relieved. She had wanted him to stop hurting Rachel and now he couldn't hurt any of them anymore. She had only been trying to protect them and now she didn't need to protect them anymore. They were safe but the cost had only been their mother's life.
"Nothing's okay," Santana whispered, raising her eyes to meet Brittany's gaze. The other girl didn't reply just let Santana's words hang thick and heavy in the air around them. They fell silent, hidden away in the shadows of the house, far away from the flurry of the action that was taking place on the front lawn and inside of the house.
*Loved it, hated it, let me know*