Out of the Ashes

by lifeloveinsanity28

AU: Santana Lopez has always shouldered the weight of caring for her younger siblings, Quinn, Blaine, and Rachel. Their older brother, Noah is absent and their mother is a mess. Their fragile stability is shattered by a single event. Now, they must find the strength to rebuild and overcome their traumatic past. Can they rise from the ashes of destruction?

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Everything is owned by RIB and Glee.

A/N: So I started this story nearly ten years ago at this point and I just seem to keep coming back to it. This is going to be an angsty journey so please pay attention to the trigger warnings. I decided that in order to move this story forward I need to re-write some things. Older chapters that existed have since been deleted and will be updated and replaced. I plan to rewrite/replace a chapter every other week. Thanks to my awesome friend and beta, 216BLT for being there to encourage me, keeping me motivated, and for fixing my mistakes.

TW: Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Implied Physical Abuse of a Child, Substance Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Discussions of Sexual Assault

Rachel Berry crept from her bedroom under the cover of darkness. Tears slipped down her cheeks silently as she tried to ignore the dampness of her pajamas where they clung to her skin uncomfortably. She moved slowly, anticipating the sound of her father's voice, knowing that the punishment would be severe if she was caught out of her bed this late at night. She let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding as she pushed open the door to her older sisters' bedroom. Their room was dark and silent. The slight glow from the moon cast eerie shadows on the walls. She scrambled carefully toward her oldest sister, Santana. She tried her hardest to avoid getting her feet tangled in the discarded clothes and shoes that littered the floor between and around the beds of Quinn and Santana. She didn't understand why they were so messy.

Eight-year-old Rachel found Santana lying on her stomach in the center of her bed. Her head was turned towards the center of the room, facing Quinn's bed. Rachel fought the urge to climb up in bed beside her older sister, but she remembered why she had come to Santana in the first place and shame caused heat to rise in her cheeks.

"San," Rachel whispered. Her face was only inches from Santana's, shaking her shoulder gently, "Wake up."

Santana, for her part, remained impassive. She did nothing more than moan and swat at Rachel before rolling away from her younger sister. Much to Rachel's heartbreak, Santana appeared to try her hardest to stay asleep. Rachel's tears started anew as her attempts to wake Santana continued to do nothing more than elicit a few sleepy groans and grunts. Rachel was tired and cold. The remnants of the dream that had woken her still playing on the edges of her consciousness and she just wanted her big sister to comfort her.

Santana was doing her best to ignore the incessant shaking and poking that was trying to rouse her into wakefulness because she was tired and whatever it was could wait. Santana felt like she was always tired, tired in a way that most teenagers weren't. Most nights Santana found that she wasn't able to sleep before midnight. For years, her lullaby had been the sound of shouted words from her mother, Shelby, and her stepfather, Hiram, mixed with the sounds of breaking glass and on the really bad nights, the sounds of body blows and tears. And recently, nearly every night was one of the really bad nights.

Santana groaned when she was shaken yet again, swatting at whoever or whatever it was that was trying to pull her from sleep.

"Please, San, wake up," Rachel begged. Her voice was somewhere between a sob and a whine as she shot a glance at the other bed in the room. She wanted to make sure that Quinn was still asleep before shaking Santana again. This time however Santana's eyes fluttered open briefly.

Santana stretched and yawned, rolling over and blinking rapidly as she tried to shake the sleep from her mind and give her eyes time to adjust to the darkness of her bedroom. She pushed herself up on her elbows slightly, trying to find whatever it was that had woken her from the most restful sleep she had had in months. She sighed, as she flopped back down once her eyes settled on the familiar features of her eight-year-old sister's face only inches from her own at that point, "What's up, munchkin?"

She could see the tear tracks on Rachel's face in the moonlight and knew from the way Rachel was still sniffling slightly that she had been crying recently. Santana stayed still, straining to see if she could hear anything but was able to hear nothing other than the soft strains of music from her fourteen-year-old sister, Quinn's headphones. It appeared that the rest of the house remained as silent and as still as it had when she fell asleep that night.

Rachel sniffled, scrubbing at the tears on her cheeks with the back of her hands, "I-I had a nightmare…and I-I wet the bed."

Santana sat up in bed, stretching absently as she ran a hand through Rachel's hair in an attempt to calm her as Rachel's tears had started anew, "Hey, munchkin, it's okay."

Rachel didn't say anything in response, just fell forward slightly. Her face was buried in Santana's mattress as her shoulders shook with sobs. Santana sighed as she sat up, kicking her way out of the blankets as she continued to comfort Rachel.

"Santana," Quinn groaned from across the room, her voice thick with sleep, causing Rachel's movements to still, "Please shut that little troll up."

Santana rolled her eyes at Quinn, climbing to her feet before throwing a small throw pillow at Quinn, chuckling darkly at the squeak of surprise her younger sister let out. She held out a hand for Rachel as she helped the little girl to her feet.

"Come on, Rach. Let's go get you cleaned up."

Rachel nodded, still sniffling as she allowed Santana to lead her across the hall, narrowly avoiding being hit by the pillow Quinn launched at them in retaliation.

"Why does Quinn hate me?" Rachel questioned softly once she and Santana were ensconced safely in her bedroom. Rachel had never understood why Quinn was always so mean to her especially when Quinn didn't act the same towards Rachel's fraternal twin brother, Blaine. Most days Quinn just ignored that Rachel existed.

Santana sighed, studying Rachel and she was struck by how small her sister appeared in her frilly pink nightgown, her hair still askew from sleep and sticking up at odd angles. "She doesn't," she said gently.

Rachel arched an eyebrow in response to her eldest sister. The expression was so out of place on Rachel's features that Santana found herself hiding a smile by turning away from Rachel to strip the sodden sheets from Rachel's bed. Rachel's shoulders slumped and her head bowed in shame as she shuffled her feet through the carpet. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she watched Santana strip her soiled sheets from the bed.

"She acts like she does. She is always so mean to me," Rachel grumbled and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

Santana couldn't help but find Rachel's behavior endearing but she also knew that her youngest sister was trying to hide just how badly Quinn's dismissiveness hurt her. She watched with a strange familiar pang in her heart as Rachel tried to hide her hurt; it was familiar because Santana and the rest of their siblings hid their wounds the same way. Santana found that she was struggling to put Quinn's extremely complex behavior into terms that her youngest sister could understand. Santana knew that Quinn really didn't hate Rachel or any of her siblings, but that she was angry. Quinn was angry that she felt like she didn't belong. She was blonde and hazel-eyed in a family full of brunettes and, unlike the rest of her siblings, she didn't know who her father was.

"Rachel, I promise, Quinn doesn't hate you. She's just complicated," Santana explained. Rachel seemed to accept her answer or at least appeared to be done with the conversation for the night, "Now get some new pajamas and underwear, while I put your sheets in the washer and start the bath for you."

Rachel made no move to follow Santana's instructions, staying rooted in the same place, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. "That's okay. I don't really need to take a bath. I would just like to change and go back to bed."

"Rachel, please, it's late and I'm tired. Let's go," Santana's eyes narrowed suspiciously as Rachel continued to ignore her. She studied Rachel's body language as the tiny girl continued to shift her weight anxiously, keeping her eyes averted from Santana's as she studied the floor. "What's going on, munchkin?"

Rachel met Santana's eyes then, shaking her head furiously, "N-nothing, I can just take a bath in the morning."

Santana sighed as she gathered Rachel's wet laundry in her arms, too exhausted to continue the argument as she left the room. Rachel watched her sister leave before scrambling to her dresser intending to get dressed before Santana returned. She had just gotten a clean nightgown over her head when she heard a sharp gasp behind her. She quickly yanked her shirt down before spinning around wide-eyed and facing an ashen-faced Santana. Rachel could feel the tears pooling in her eyes as her heart began to race. She was frozen, unable to move or hide, able to do nothing more than just stare at Santana, not knowing what to do, and not able to come up with words to explain.

Santana closed the gap between herself and Rachel and knelt in front of her little sister, who was looking everywhere but at Santana. Her hands balled at her sides as her chest rose rapidly with her quickened breaths. Santana put her hand on Rachel's chin in an attempt to draw her attention but Rachel flinched away violently and Santana allowed her hand to drop, hanging ineffectually between them.

"Who…who did that to you?" Her eyes searched Rachel's face for any answer but the answer was too clear. "It's him, isn't it? Hiram. He-he did this to you."

Santana may have been asking questions, but the questions were mostly rhetorical because she knew. She knew the instant she saw the patchwork of pea green, yellow and purple bruises that covered her youngest sister's back, the series of large red welts created a latticework from Rachel's shoulders to her waist and scabbed over in some places where her skin had broken open. She knew that only Hiram's sadistic ass was capable of putting those marks on her tiny baby sister because she too had once sported similar marks. But this, this she had never expected. Hiram's punishments were supposed to be for Santana and Santana alone, never for them. She decided long ago that she would take any punishment Hiram could dole out if that meant that all of her younger siblings would never be harmed. If that meant she could keep all of them safe.

Rachel continued to shake her head, backing away from Santana, wincing when her back collided with the polished wood of her dresser, "You…you're not…you can't..he told me…"

Santana closed the gap between them as Rachel continued to murmur the same words over and over again, her breathing erratic, skin pale as tears poured down her cheeks. Santana attempted to gather Rachel into her arms, to calm her, but Rachel fought against her. Her small fists batted ineffectually at Santana's chest as she struggled to get away. Santana finally loosened her grip on Rachel, afraid that Rachel would hurt herself in her panic.

Rachel lost her balance once Santana released her, her bottom hitting the ground with a soft thud before she scrambled backward. She pushed herself into the space between her dresser and the wall of her closet, curling her legs into herself, as she pressed her forehead to her knees as she attempted to get her breathing under control.

Santana dropped to her knees in front of Rachel, reaching forward to run her fingers through Rachel's hair. She could feel Rachel trembling and the way her body practically heaved with every breath, as her little sister gasped for air, "Rachel. Rachel. You need to breathe...just breathe."

Santana allowed silence to fall as she continued to stroke the back of Rachel's head. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been. She knew what a monster her stepfather could be. She figured that out pretty quickly after her mom and Hiram married when she was eight. But Rachel was different, was supposed to be different. Rachel and her fraternal twin brother, Blaine, were his kids. Hiram never failed to remind Quinn, Santana, or their older brother, Noah, that they weren't his children, which meant that they didn't matter to him at all.

Rachel and Blaine were different though. Hiram made sure that the twins attended the best and most prestigious private school that Lima, Ohio had to offer. Rachel was the youngest but she was the only one with her own room. Hiram had always doted on them, making sure that whatever they wanted they were given. So Santana had always assumed, had always thought that they were safe with him. She had never suspected that he would hurt either of them, especially not Rachel.

Her stomach twisted painfully at the thought of her tiny little sister cowering in fear as Hiram hit her repeatedly with his belt or his hand. She didn't know how she had fucked this up that badly. It was her job to protect them and she hadn't been there. She hadn't even known that any of this was going on. Her focus had always been on Quinn and making sure that Quinn was safe that she hadn't even considered that he could be hurting Rachel.

"Rachel, what-what happened?" Santana whispered once Rachel was doing nothing more than sobbing every few seconds. Santana knew the question seemed slightly ridiculous, but she needed to hear it from Rachel. She needed to know how she missed this.

"I-I can't," Rachel sobbed, "He-he told me…he-he made me promise not to tell…he…he told me if I told anyone…it's-it's my fault, San. He-he told me to be good. He…he told me if I was just a good little girl...he wouldn't…this wouldn't happen. I-I just make him so m-mad."

Rachel's words were quickly swallowed by tears once again. This time, however, Santana was able to pull Rachel up into her arms. Rachel buried her face in Santana's shoulder as she sobbed, wrapping her arms around Santana's shoulders. Santana rested her chin on top of Rachel's bowed head as a few tears silently slipped down her cheeks.

"Oh, Rach," Santana murmured, "It's not your fault. This…this could never be your fault. No matter..no matter how mad you make him...he shouldn't..he should never hurt you."

Rachel nodded against Santana, wanting to believe her sister but Santana hadn't been there. Rachel knew it was her fault because her dad had told her it was. He told her he didn't want to hurt her and if she just listened or followed the rules or did what she was told, he wouldn't have to punish her. So even though Rachel didn't believe Santana just letting her older sister comfort her was enough for now. Rachel could feel her eyelids growing heavy the longer Santana swayed with her in her arms. She yawned as she fought the sleepiness that made her mind feel fuzzy and her limbs heavy.

"San, I'm tired." Rachel yawned and she felt a chuckle rumble through Santana's chest.

"C'mon, munchkin," Santana said, getting to her feet, as she pulled a sleepy Rachel up with her, "Let's get you that bath, and then you can come sleep in my room tonight."

Rachel nodded sleepily, allowing Santana to carry her into the bathroom and deposit her in the tub, before turning on the tap. The cool ceramic surface of the bathtub felt soothing against the inflamed skin of her back and her upper thighs when she relaxed back in the tub. Rachel ignored the sharp exhale she heard behind her, keeping her eyes averted from Santana not wanting to see her big sister's reaction to the mess that was her backside. Rachel was grateful that Santana continued to stay silent as she turned on the taps to the bathtub, Rachel winced slightly as the water ran cold briefly before turning warm.

Santana hadn't been able to control her sharp inhalation of breath as she was able to truly see the damage Hiram had done to Rachel. The bruises and welts extended to the tops of her upper thighs. Santana's jaw clenched reflexively as she quickly glanced away from her sister, not wanting Rachel to see the tears that were pooling in her eyes. She knew now that Hiram had been hurting Rachel for a while. Thanks to the harsh bathroom lighting she was able to see under the bruises, the shiny white scars where her little sister's flesh had split open and knit back together.

Santana slumped down on the closed lid of her toilet, burying her head in her hands. How had she missed this? How could she not have noticed? Her mind was racing as she took inventory of every interaction she and Rachel shared in the last few months, trying to remember if she had missed a wince or an involuntary tensing of her sister's muscles or anything that would've given away the injuries her baby sister had been concealing. But she couldn't pinpoint anything unusual in Rachel's behavior. The guilt gnawed at her stomach when she realized she didn't know if it was because she just hadn't been paying close enough attention or if it was because Rachel had somehow been that skilled at hiding her pain.

"San, you…you won't tell, will you?"

Santana turned her head to study her little sister. She could nearly sense the anxiety rolling off her little sister as she watched Rachel skim her hands over the warm water, trying to appear casual but the tenseness of her frame gave her away. She could only imagine the things Hiram could've said to Rachel to keep her silent. Rachel had always seemed so honest, so open in the way that most little kids were and she knew her stepfather's threats must've been severe.

Santana shook her head quickly, "No, Rach, I...I won't tell."

"Promise?" Rachel whispered.

Santana froze then not knowing if that was a promise she could keep. She wasn't sure she could keep Rachel's secret when every cell in her body was vibrating with anger and all she wanted to do was kill her stepfather and confront her mother. She didn't know how Shelby couldn't have known but with all the self-medicating their mother did it was always possible that she had no idea. Regardless with Rachel staring at her, her dark eyes wet and impossibly large in her small face and she didn't know how she could deny her baby sister anything.

Santana nodded, hoping that her non-verbal acknowledgment of Rachel's question would satisfy her little sister without her needing to speak the words, "But Rach, I need you to make me a promise too. You-you have to promise me that you'll tell me if someone is hurting you. I know…I know you thought you were protecting us, but that's not your job. You…you can't keep secrets like this."

"I promise…can I get out now?"

Santana nodded, holding out a towel for Rachel as she climbed from the tub beginning to dry herself off. Santana's stomach clenched painfully, bile rising in her throat as she studied the marks on Rachel, suddenly realizing that if her little sister could hide bruises as easily as she had, what if she was hiding marks that no one would ever be able to see?

"Rach…Rach, I need to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me, can you do that?" Santana asked, Rachel nodded almost imperceptibly, remaining faced away from Santana, "Has he…has he ever touched you anywhere else, like somewhere you didn't want to be touched?"

Santana watched as Rachel stiffened, her movements stilling as she began to shake her head vehemently, "No, no, San…he wouldn't…he's never..he's never done that."

Santana could see Rachel's breathing picking up again as she continued getting dressed continuing to mutter under her breath. Santana hated that everything had shifted and that she couldn't tell anymore if Rachel's vehement denial was because she was so upset by the question or if it was because she was trying to hide the truth from Santana. Santana was choosing to believe that it was the former because she didn't want to picture Hiram hurting her baby sister in that way. She couldn't picture him on top of her baby sister, touching her in a way that a father should never touch his child.

"I'm so sorry," Santana whispered, not knowing if she was apologizing for what she had just asked or if her apology was only because of the secret Rachel had been keeping. Rachel spun around to face Santana, fully dressed now as she wrapped her arms around Santana hugging her tightly.

"It's okay, San. I'm okay," Rachel murmured as her older sister sank into her embrace.

Santana shook her head sadly as she hugged Rachel. She wanted to scream at Rachel that it wasn't okay, that nothing about what Hiram had done to Rachel was okay. She wanted to tell Rachel that it was her fault. She wanted Rachel to know that he had hurt her because Santana had failed. Santana should've seen what he had been doing to her little sister. But she couldn't say any of that now because it was late and Rachel was starting to grow heavy in Santana's embrace and she knew Rachel was falling asleep. Santana shifted Rachel into a standing position so that she could get to her feet before picking her up and carrying her into Santana's room.

Santana glanced over to make sure Quinn had fallen back asleep before laying Rachel on her bed. Santana crawled beside her as Rachel instinctively curled into her side. She pulled her close to her, safely tucking her body into hers. "Night, munchkin," she whispered.

It was late, really late. The only light in Santana's room came from the cracks in the blinds where the moonlight was streaming in. Santana opened her eyes, blearily peering into the darkness of her bedroom. She didn't know what woke her up but then she felt it, a hand stroking the inside of her thigh. Santana whimpered. She clamped her thighs shut to the intrusion as she tried to drift back to sleep. She wanted to pretend it was a nightmare. Maybe if she went back to sleep she could dream it away.

She was wrong.

Santana felt someone pull her thighs apart and the stroking continued. One finger brushed her underwear. Santana's eyes flew open as she squirmed away uncomfortably trying to escape whoever was touching her like that. She immediately found that her hips were being held down and she couldn't move. She opened her mouth to scream for help, desperate for someone to come to her rescue. However, her hopes were dashed as she felt a hand clampdown covering her mouth.

Santana's eyes darted frantically over to the bed where Quinn slept. She felt relief washing over her when she saw that Quinn was still asleep and was unaware of the struggle that was going on in Santana's bed.

"Don't you dare scream, you little bitch." Santana heard a rough, gravelly voice break the chaos in her mind.

This time though her body tensed with terror. That was Hiram's voice whispering in her ear. His breath was hot as it washed over her face. The pungent aroma of cigarette smoke and alcohol reached her nostrils and caused her to gag. Santana froze and her body stilled in her struggle to get away from Hiram. His grip tightened around her. "If you scream, it will be your little bastard sister who gets it next. Do you understand?"

Santana whimpered and nodded, hot tears pouring down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and he pulled his hand away from her mouth. Hiram resumed his movements. His fingers stroked the front of her underwear. His other hand held her thighs open. His fingers squeezed her thigh so tightly that she was sure there would be bruises. Santana wanted to fight and strike out at him or kick him or bite him, but she held as still as possible, allowing him to touch her.

She knew if she fought, he would do this to Quinn.

Quinn was only a baby. She was only nine and in fourth grade. Santana was much older. She could be brave and take it. After all, Santana had started middle school this year. Santana couldn't let Hiram do this to Quinn.

Santana felt something hard poking against her thigh where Hiram had laid down and pressed against her from where he lay next to her. His hips moved against her hip in time with his hands moving in her underwear. Santana nearly screamed again when she felt Hiram's hand touching her underneath her underwear. His fingers were rough and bruising, making Santana fear that he had scratched her or cut her in some way. He was grunting in her ear. His movements in his hips and hands became faster.

Santana turned her head so she was facing the wall. Her breath came in short panicked gasps as she cried silently trying to control the sobs that wanted to burst forth. She was too afraid of what would happen if she made too much noise. She heard him grunt one final time. His hand stilled as his body stiffened where he was pressed against her hip.

"Good girl," he murmured as he pulled his hand from her panties, patting her hip. The motion was taunting and degrading despite being framed as praise.

She squeezed her eyes shut again as she felt her mattress shift as he got up from the bed. The sound of her door opening and closing signified that he had exited her room. She allowed the sobs to bubble up from her chest as he left. Finally, she allowed herself to roll onto her side and bury her face in her pillow. Her whole body shook with the force of her tears which were hot and warm as they ran down her cheeks.

Santana felt her bed shift again and she stilled, sucking in deep breaths to quiet her sobs, tense and waiting for her to be grabbed roughly once again. Her body sagged as she felt small arms wrap around her waist, her tears becoming gasps and coughs as she allowed Quinn to hold her. Santana twisted slightly, turning so she could face her little sister. Dark eyes met wide, frightened hazel ones. Tear tracks glistened on Quinn's cheeks in the moonlight. Santana's breath caught in her throat at the sadness in Quinn's sadness for her.

Santana understood then that Quinn had been awake the whole time. She knew that her little sister had seen what Hiram had done. She knew that she had listened to what Hiram had grunted in Santana's ear. Quinn's arms wrapped tighter around Santana, clinging to her as if she was trying to hold her older sister together.

"I-I'm so-so sorry," Santana gasped, "I-I won't let him...he won't..he won't ever do-do that to you." She felt Quinn nod against the back of her neck, as Santana continued to murmur promises and apologies into the darkness of the room.

Santana awoke with a gasp, a silent scream dying on her lips. Her entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat as her breath came in short spurts and gasps. Her chest felt tight like she couldn't suck in enough air, her heartbeat pounding in her chest and her ears. Her stomach roiled uncomfortably as she shoved Rachel away from her as gently as she could. She rushed from her bedroom on shaky legs, shoving the door to the bathroom open. She tensed briefly when the doorknob banged against the wall, before dropping to her knees in front of the toilet as she pulled her hair to the side before emptying the contents of her stomach.

She hadn't had a flashback like that in a long time, because Hiram had never really stopped. She didn't have flashbacks because everything he had done was very much part of her present. He had never stopped coming into her bedroom under the cover of darkness, smelling of stale cigarettes and cheap whiskey, his hands rough and seeking. It had escalated after that first time when she was eleven. She had only been fourteen when he finally did the inevitable. He had come into her room late at night not unlike many nights before but this time was different. He had pinned her to the bed and yanked her panties aside and shoved himself inside of her. That had been the first time she had tried to fight against him. He held her arms down until she went limp and she nearly bit through her lip in an attempt to suppress her screams. He had taken a fight from her that she could never get back that night.

Santana laid her forehead against the cool rim of the toilet seat. her body trembling as she struggled to bring her breathing under control. She attempted to push the memories from her mind, her skin crawling as she remembered every touch, every grunt, and each whispered word that he had hissed into her ear. She was barely conscious of the fact that she had started scratching at her skin, trying to claw the memory of him from the very fiber of her being.

Her movement stilled when she heard a crash from the floor below her. She pushed herself to her feet, pausing briefly as her head swam as she rushed from the room, nearly tripping over her own feet as she raced downstairs. She flipped on the light in the foyer, illuminating her older brother, Noah in the soft white light. Noah was crouched down trying to right the table in the entryway that he had no doubt stumbled into and knocked over. Santana could see how her older brother was swaying slightly, seeming unsteady on his feet, and just knew he had been drinking. She hadn't even realized Noah wasn't home and now he was in their entryway drunk and maybe high and making so much noise.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me." She groaned as she stalked toward Noah, frustrated with his incompetence in accomplishing such a simple task.

"Santana!" He exclaimed when he noticed her presence, a smile playing on his lips. His voice was too loud and too bright for the stillness of the house.

Santana rolled her eyes as she yanked the table from his grasp, even as he continued to grin at her chuckling softly, "Shut the fuck up, Noah."

Santana could hear the soft sound of snoring coming from the living room off of the foyer as she righted the table. She shot a quick glance into the darkened living room just barely able to make out the shape of their mother on the couch. She stilled for a second, waiting to hear some change in the snoring or any indication that Noah's antics had woken their mother.

Santana grabbed Noah's arm once she was satisfied that their mother would remain asleep. She pulled him away from the entryway. The alcohol made his much larger form seem more pliable and easier to maneuver.

"Jeez, San, you're strong." Noah chuckled, unable to hide his amusement at being manhandled by his much smaller sister, tripping over his own feet as Santana practically dragged him into the kitchen.

"You're just drunk," Santana told him, rolling her eyes. "Where have you been?"

Noah shrugged lazily, grinning, "Around."

Santana glared up at him, anger flaring white hot in her chest. She wanted to punch him. She wanted to knock that stupid look off of his face. She wanted to yell at him because he was always around but he was never there. But she knew she couldn't. She couldn't talk to him when he was like this. She couldn't have this conversation or any conversation with him, not tonight. She couldn't talk to him when all she could think about was what Hiram had been doing to Rachel and she couldn't tell him. She had promised Rachel and if she was going to break that promise, it wasn't going to be to tell Noah. Noah would kill Hiram or get himself arrested and that wouldn't help anyone.

"Ugh, just go to bed, Noah, and take a fucking shower. You stink," Santana bit out through gritted teeth, lightly shoving him away from her.

Noah gave her a half-assed salute, smirk still planted firmly in place as he stumbled out of the kitchen. Santana felt the anger leaking from her pores as she watched him leave before being replaced with something that felt like sadness. She couldn't tell him that she missed him or that she needed him or yell at him for abandoning her to deal with their fucked up family on her own.

Santana and Noah were only eleven months apart and had been SantanaandNoah for as long as she could remember. Their parents, Shelby Corcoran and Alex Lopez, had been young, barely nineteen when Noah was conceived by accident. They were married quickly after and had Noah only a mere two months after their wedding night. Santana was conceived quickly after that and by the time they were twenty-one, they were the parents of two children under the age of one. Santana and Noah had always been each other's built-in best friends and partners in crime. That all changed when Noah realized that no matter how badly he wanted to protect his family, he would never be able to keep them safe. That hard truth had been driven home when an attempt to protect them had ended with a nine-month stint in a juvenile correctional facility.

Noah was different when he returned. He was angry in a way that Santana had never seen him. He was rarely home. Most nights, he reappeared with black eyes and bloody knuckles, the sickly sweet smell of alcohol on his breath, and the earthy scent of the weed he smoked clinging to his clothing. It was almost as if the realization that he couldn't fight for his family caused him to seek out fights elsewhere. Santana never asked him where he disappeared to nearly every night. She never asked because she never wanted to give him the chance to lie, instead, she bandaged bloody knuckles and held ice packs to black eyes and swollen lips in silence. Santana allowed him to have his secrets because they both had secrets and she couldn't ask for his if she would never be ready to tell him hers.

Santana listened to Noah's heavy footfalls as he made his way upstairs before she crept into the darkened living room. She found Shelby sprawled out on her stomach on the sofa, asleep, one hand dangling off the edge of the couch. Her fingers brushed the carpet where a bottle of rum lay on its side, the dark liquid dripping into the carpet. Santana could see a fresh bruise darkening her mother's cheek, the purple and black blemish standing out in stark relief against her pale skin.

Santana felt a flash of white-hot anger bloom in her chest as she studied her mother's prone form. She couldn't remember the last time that she had been able to look at her mother without feeling the same flash of anger. She was angry at the way her mother preferred to retreat to the bottom of the bottle rather than protect herself or protect her children. She had been angry ever since she was young at the way Hiram had treated her mother and her anger had only grown when she ended up on the receiving end of his treatment.

She stalked towards the sofa, shaking Shelby viciously in an attempt to rouse her, receiving little more than a sleepy grunt for her effort. Santana was barely ten the first time she and Noah had found Shelby in the same position. She remembered sobbing and begging her mother to wake up, terrified that her mother was dead and they would be left with Hiram. The terror she felt that first night had quickly given way to anger and almost cold indifference. She cared for Shelby now out of a twisted sense of obligation to keep some semblance of innocence for her two youngest siblings. She had always thought that she was protecting them, keeping them safe by not allowing them to truly see who Shelby was. She knew it was bad enough that their father was a monster, she could at least save them from seeing the true nature of their mother's addiction.

Santana slapped her mother's cheeks none too gently when the vicious shakes she was delivering did little to nothing to rouse her. She was so tired. She just wanted her mom to wake up so she could go to sleep and try to forget for only a minute everything that she had discovered that night. Her last slap appeared to have the desired effect as Shelby let out a small cough before her eyes shot open, glazed and unfocused. She squinted in the dim light of the den as her eyes adjusted before settling on Santana's face.

"Santana? What…what's going on?" Shelby questioned. Her words were slightly slurred and gravelly with sleep. She attempted to push herself into a sitting position, her limbs heavy and uncooperative. The effects of the alcohol she had consumed still coursed through her veins and she flopped back awkwardly on the couch, groaning.

"You're wasted. Again," Santana spat. She leaned down to assist Shelby in sitting up. She found herself grunting from the exertion of trying to arrange Shelby's uncooperative limbs in a way that prevented her mother from falling over again, "Do you think you could fucking help me?"

Shelby's eyes flashed dangerously as she pushed Santana away from her, causing Santana to stumble back slightly, "Get the fuck off of me! I don't need your damn help!"

Santana crossed her arms over her chest, watching her mother struggle to push herself into a sitting position with an arched eyebrow. She hated this. She hated that this fucked up woman in front of her was who their mother was now. Santana's frustration grew the longer she watched Shelby trying to just get herself upright. She didn't know who she was more frustrated with herself or Shelby. This woman was the person that she had entrusted with her younger siblings. Shelby couldn't even figure out how to sit up and Santana thought she could be trusted to keep Blaine and Rachel safe. She hated that she thought it would be different for them. She thought it would be different because they weren't reminders of all of Shelby's failures.

"You're such a fucking mess," Santana groaned, reaching once again to help her mother. She barely had time to react when Shelby's open palm connected with her cheek, her head whipping to the side violently. Her hands reflexively flew to cover the spot her mother struck as the stinging pain blossomed over the surface of her cheek, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as her mouth fell open in surprise. Shelby had hit her. Shelby had never hit her, even when Santana had been small, her mother's preferred form of punishment had been time-outs and loss of privileges. Shelby was a lot of things, neglectful topping the list but she had never been violent.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," Shelby spat, glaring as she finally was able to push herself upright, "You don't get to talk to me like that. I'm your mother."

"Mother?" Santana snorted, derisively. Her hands fell from her still stinging cheek as she clenched them into fists at her side, any shock she felt was replaced by a burning hot anger, "You haven't acted like my mother in years. Some fucking mother you are, passing out drunk and letting your husband beat the shit out of you and your kids. Fuck you, Mom."

Santana spun on her heel and stormed out of the room. She heard her mom let out a strangled cry as she left the room. Fuck Shelby. Her mom wanted to give her a fucking lecture tonight of all nights. Fuck that. Shelby had the power to save them, had always had the power to save them. She could've been an actual mother at any point in the last eight years and taken them away from this horse of horrors. Now, she wanted to police the way Santana spoke to her when she couldn't even get herself up to her bedroom. Santana had been the one keeping them all together and her fucking mother had no right to try to parent her now.

Even now as Santana stood on the second-floor landing, she could hear her mother stumbling, tripping over her own feet and the carpet. She could still feel the stinging in her cheek and the anger burning under her skin, and the last thing she wanted to do was do anything to help Shelby. But she couldn't listen to her mother struggle, and she definitely couldn't afford to have her mother fall down the stairs. Santana pounded her fist on the railing, groaning audibly as she stomped back down the stairs. She just wanted to be mad at Shelby. She wanted to be mad at Shelby and just for one night let Shelby take care of herself. Her pace down the stairs quickened when her mom nearly lost her balance on one of the steps, her arms pinwheeling dangerously before she clutched the railing to stay upright.

Santana reached out and grabbed her mom around the waist to keep her upright. Shelby fought against Santana ineffectually, Santana's grip too strong and Shelby's movements too uncoordinated for her to do anything to break Santana's grasp. Santana led Shelby into the master bathroom, flipping on the lights as she deposited her mom unceremoniously on the closed toilet lid. Santana studied her reflection in the mirror as she turned on the warm water. She could see the slight redness of her cheek where Shelby had slapped her but it was already fading which meant it wouldn't bruise. She shot furtive glances at her mother out of the corner of her eye as she ran a washcloth under the warm water. She saw that in addition to the bruise on her mother's cheek, the thin skin underneath her eye had been broken, most likely from the ring Hiram wore.

"Please stop looking at me like that, Santana," Shelby mumbled, her voice devoid of emotion as she clutched the edge of the toilet seat to keep herself upright, "I can take care of myself."

Santana scoffed as she passed the washcloth to her mother, turning so she could lean back against the sink, her arms crossed as she studied Shelby, "Please. You haven't taken care of yourself in years."

Her mother looked so defeated and so small, letting out a small hiss as the warm water made contact with the bruise on her cheek. She looked so far removed from the mother of Santana's childhood and Santana wondered why she had never noticed the change. She studied the way Shelby's hair hung limp and lank around her face, and she didn't know the last time her mother had washed it. Shelby's cheekbones jutted out sharply and her eyes were sunken, dark circles rimming them. Santana realized she couldn't remember the last time she had seen her mother eat a meal. Shelby had been slowly killing herself for years but she didn't think she had ever seen her mom look this bad.

"Yes, Santana. I'm aware of what a horrible mother I am," Shelby said, her tone bored and flat as she stared at the floor and anywhere but at Santana.

Santana couldn't do this with her mom. This push and pull were so familiar but she didn't have any patience for that tonight. Tonight was different. Tonight the knowledge of what Hiram had been doing to Rachel was ever-present in her mind. She had promised Rachel that she wouldn't say anything but that was before she was sitting in this bathroom with her mother, her mind racing as she tried to work out just what her mother knew. She knew Shelby was neglectful but she didn't know how Shelby could be in this house with her kids every day and not know what Hiram had been doing.

"Did…did you know?" Santana questioned, uncrossing her arms, as she pushed away from the sink, before sinking to the floor in front of Shelby. She wanted to see her mother's response and make sure that she was fully present.

"Did I know what?" Shelby retorted, exhaustion evident in her tone as she raised her head to meet Santana's eyes. Santana stayed silent as her eyes roved over Shelby's countenance, looking for any sign, a telltale twitch of her lips, or her eyes or anything that would give away that Shelby's question was just for show, "Please, San, I'm tired."

Santana swallowed reflexively, her throat suddenly too dry and the bathroom suddenly feeling too small as she searched her mother's face. She knew there was no going back now, and she could only hope that her baby sister would understand why she had to break her promise. "That he…that Hiram is hurting Rach. He's hurting her, Mom. He's beating her…she's..she's covered in bruises-"

Shelby shook her head vehemently, "No…no...you're-you're lying…he isn't…he couldn't..he wouldn't…you…you're lying."

"Are you fucking serious right now? Why the fuck would I lie about that?"

Of course, Shelby thought Santana was lying. Shelby would rather think Santana was lying than actually admit that her fucking husband could be hurting Rachel. But Shelby had seen him hit her and Noah. She didn't understand how her mother couldn't imagine that Hiram may be doing the same to Rachel.

"Because...because you hate him…you've always hated-"

"Fuck you. Of course, I fucking hate him. He's a fucking monster and Rach..Rach is so little. I'm not…I promise I'm not lying."

Santana shifted closer to her mother, forcing her mother to make eye contact with her. She needed her mother to believe her. Rachel needed Shelby to believe her. Their eyes met for only the briefest of seconds but Santana saw a softness in her mother's eyes that wasn't there before.

Shelby nodded, "San, I..I didn't know. I had no idea."

"Of course, you didn't fucking know!" Santana shouted. She ignored the way Shelby flinched as Santana's voice echoed off the tiles in the bathroom. Santana shoved herself to her feet, pacing the small space. She clenched her fists at her side, her fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her palm, the little pinpricks of pain seeming to ground her as she fought the urge to punch the wall or punch her mother. "You're either too fucking drunk or too fucking high to ever-"

"That's not..that's not fair, Santana." Shelby protested, her voice raised to match Santana's tone.

"It's more than fucking fair, Mom. Look in the fucking mirror and then tell me it's not fair," Santana gestured wildly, as she paced, "They're your fucking kids, Mom. Yours. Not mine. Not Noah's. You're…you're supposed to know. You're supposed to know if someone is hurting them. You're supposed to know."

Santana's voice had faded by the end of her impassioned speech, her final words barely more than a whisper. She leaned back against the wall of the bathroom, her chest tight and her breath coming in short spurts. She glanced at her mother but quickly looked away when she saw the tears that were pooling in her mother's eyes.

"And what about you, San? You're my kid too."

Santana let out a breath, something like relief and hope blossoming in her chest at her mother's gentle question. She bit down on her lip fiercely to keep it from quivering and keep the tears that were stinging her eyes from falling down her cheeks. It felt like this was the first time in years that her mother was actually listening to her. She felt like her mother actually cared about what she had to say. It wasn't enough but maybe it could be. She had waited for years for Shelby to look at her the way she was looking at her now.

"This…this isn't about me, Mom. I'm...I'm fine," Santana shook her head, glancing at her mom quickly before looking away when she saw a tear snake down the surface of her mother's skin, "This is about them. This is about Rachel. She's..she's so little. They both are and they deserve more than this. They-they need you to do something. We have to do something."

Shelby averted her eyes from Santana, studying the tile in front of her, her hair covering her face like a veil, "Santana-"

"No. No," Santana said, falling to her knees in front of her mom, hating how close she felt to begging, "You..you don't get to do that. We can leave, Mom. We can. Don't…don't tell me there is nothing you can do. You're our mom. We need you to be our mom."

"Oh, San." Shelby breathed out, cupping Santana's cheek softly. Her soft touch was such a sharp contrast to the harsh slap she had landed on the same cheek earlier that night. She used the pad of her thumb to wipe a tear from Santana's cheek that the girl seemed unaware had fallen.

Santana let out a strangled sob, the tender touch from her mother loosening something in her chest. It had been so long since her mom had been this gentle. It had been so long since she had felt anything akin to hope in her chest. She had forgotten how safe her mother had made her feel once when she chased away nightmares and kissed skinned knees. But that had been before Hiram, before pills and alcohol, and Shelby doing anything and everything to keep herself numb. It had been before the depression and the anger and there was always so much anger.

"Please, Mom." Santana practically begged.

"I…Santana..we can't. We can't leave," Shelby told her, hating how quickly Santana's eyes shuttered once again as she shoved away from her, "Hiram…he..he would find us, and I..I haven't worked in years, how would we survive? And he would want custody of them and he'd win…We can't just leave."

Santana felt so stupid. She couldn't believe she had been dumb enough to think that Shelby would give enough of a shit to do something. She felt any hope she had been stupid enough to feel leave her body in an instant as fiery tendrils of rage settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Then I will. I'll leave and I'll take them with me. If you won't do anything-"

"Santana, you're sixteen…you can't just leave and you can't just take them with you."

"If you won't protect them…if you can't keep them safe then I will. I will call fucking OFC and not give a shit if we get put in foster care, because at least then they will be safe."

"You-you wouldn't dare," Shelby spat, her eyes flashing dangerously, "They're my kids, San and Hiram..Hiram would-"

"Would what, Mom? What would that asshole do? Kill me?" Santana scoffed because maybe death would be better than always being this powerless. She couldn't keep being this helpless. She had to do something to help them.

"Stop it, Santana. Please just stop," Shelby practically begged, every single word laced with exhaustion.

"I won't stop, Mom. I'm not just going to let him hurt her. You may be okay with him hurting you…but I won't let him hurt Rach. Not anymore. I'll make sure of that."

"I'm her mother, Santana, not you."

"Fucking act like one then!" Santana shouted, "Get your shit together and fucking act like our mom, Mom! Until you can fucking do that, Rachel and Blaine will be with either me or Noah. Don't bother dragging your ass out of bed to take them to school or pick them up, I've got it. If you won't do what you need to do to protect them, then I fucking will."

Santana spun on her heels as she stormed out of the bathroom. Her skin burned with anger as her heart raced in her chest. Angry tears filled her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She was so stupid. She couldn't believe that she actually thought Shelby was going to do anything to help them. As angry as she was at Shelby she was even angrier at herself. She should never have allowed hope to fill some of the empty spaces in her heart but between Shelby's soft words and gentle touches, she had allowed it in. She should've known that Shelby would never leave. But she thought because it was Rachel and Rachel was a near spitting image of Shelby, she would be different. She didn't know how she could've been so wrong.

"San?" Rachel asked when Santana made her way back into her bedroom, " Where'd ya go?"

"Nowhere," Santana said as she slid into bed beside Rachel. She instinctively curled her body around Rachel's, cuddling the smaller girl to her chest, "Go back to sleep."

…..

Shelby watched as Santana stormed out of the bathroom, letting out a frustrated breath that quickly turned into a sob. Shelby ran a shaking hand through her hair as she pushed herself to her feet, her head swimming partially from the effects of the alcohol she had consumed earlier that evening and partially from the after-effects of the emotions that still raged instead of her. She wanted to follow Santana to tell her she was right that they would leave but she couldn't, fear and self-loathing pinning her in place allowing her to do little more than fumble through the medicine cabinet looking for the small bottle of pills that would help her forget and she just wanted to forget.

Shelby knew how stubborn and hot-headed her eldest daughter could be, traits she knew Santana had gotten from her biological father. She also knew how fiercely loyal and protective Santana could be and she didn't doubt that Santana would make good on her threat and she didn't know what to do. She knew what she should do. She knew that she should go after Santana, go to all of the kids, tell them to pack a bag and take them away from this place, but she couldn't. She let out a shuddering breath, pausing in her search to study her reflection in the mirror. She took two fingers and pressed gingerly on the bruise on her cheek, hissing in pain at the contact. She could see through her tears that the underside of her eye was starting to swell and she knew that by morning her eye would be swollen shut.

She couldn't leave because she deserved this shit. Every cut, every bruise, every broken bone, she deserved them all. Her kids didn't deserve this shit but she did. She knew they deserved better but she didn't know if she could be that for them. She was no better than him. She had brought him into their lives, she had given him the children he wanted and she hadn't even known that he had been hurting Rachel. She was with her children every single day and she hadn't even noticed what he had been doing. Her kids deserved better but she didn't deserve them. They deserved a mom who would fight for them, a mom who would notice when someone was hurting them, and a mom who would've left when she had the chance.

Shelby's pulse pounded in her chest, her mouth dry and her palms sweaty as she watched Hiram escort the social workers to the door. Her broken wrist throbbed with each beat of her heart and her stomach clenched painfully as anxiety made her skin crawl. She spotted movement on the stairs in front of her and made eye contact briefly with Santana and Noah, the nine and ten-year-old peering at her from between the railings. She knew Quinn and the twins were already in bed, Santana and Noah would've made sure of that. They always made sure the younger kids were safe. She glanced quickly to see that Hiram was still in the entryway, peering out the window next to the door, no doubt watching for the social workers to leave their driveway.

"Upstairs. Now," She mouthed to the children. She found she was completely unsurprised when instead of doing as asked her children just shook their heads, staying rooted in place. She heard Hiram's heavy footfalls retreating from the doorway and she needed her kids to move. She had seen the fury burning in Hiram's eyes every time he looked at her that night and she needed Santana and Noah to not be here right now.

Her attention was pulled from the children when Hiram entered the living room, obscuring them from her field of vision, "Hiram, I…."

She had barely gotten the words out when the back of Hiram's hand connected with the side of her face. She cried out as pain exploded across her cheek and white spots flecked her vision. She scrambled to stand up but Hiram grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and prevented her from getting away.

"Was that you? Did you fucking do that?" Hiram shouted, gesturing towards the door, his face only inches away from it, spittle landing on her cheek with the force of his words.

Shelby shook her head frantically, tears springing to her eyes as she fought to get away from him, "No, Hiram..it wasn't..I didn't..maybe someone from the hospital-"

"Don't fucking lie to me!" Hiram roared as he hit her once again, his grip on her shirt was the only thing keeping her from falling back into the couch cushions.

"Get away from her!" Noah cried. She could hear the sound of Santana and Noah's footsteps pounding down the stairs. Noah's interruption caused Hiram to drop Shelby's shirt as he turned to face Noah. Shelby scrambled to her feet coming to stand beside Hiram as he round on the two children. She could see the fear in their eyes even as their chins jutted out defiantly, small arms crossed over their chests as they stared him down.

"What the fuck did you just say to me, you little bastard?" Hiram spat. Shelby watched paralyzed as Hiram grabbed Noah by the front of his shirt, dragging the little boy towards him so that their faces were only inches apart, "This is my house, you little shit! You don't tell me what to do in my house!"

"Get off of him!" Santana shouted, charging at Hiram. Shelby watched in horror as Hiram struck Santana across the face, the little girl crying out before she crumpled to the ground. Shelby rushed forward, falling to her knees beside Santana's fallen form. She could see Santana's body shaking with barely suppressed tears. She wanted to take Santana in her arms but she couldn't do that, not now.

She heard the small cry Noah let out as Hiram must've released his grip on the little boy. Shelby barely had time to react before Hiram was dragging her to her feet by her good arm, pinning it behind her back as her shoulder joint screamed in protest. She winced before she tried to train her face into a more neutral expression acutely aware of Noah and Santana's eyes on her. She squirmed trying to find a position that took the pressure off of her shoulder joint.

"Get the fuck upstairs. Both of you. Now." Hiram bellowed.

"Mom," Santana sobbed as she picked herself up off the ground, her eyes wet and wounded as she kept them trained on her mom, one hand clutching at her cheek where Hiram had struck her.

"San, please." Shelby pleaded and Santana nodded, as trudged slowly towards the stairway. She let out a yelp of surprise when Hiram struck out at her again, this time with a foot to her backside, nearly sending her careening to the ground again. Shelby watched as Santana reached for Noah's hand before they both raced upstairs.

"Hiram-" Shelby had barely spoken his name before he was releasing her arm and turning his body so he could slam her into the wall of the living room. The collision of her back with the wall, caused her breath to leave her body in a surprised whoosh, leaving her gasping for air as she tried to pull air back into her lungs. Hiram pinned her in place with one arm braced against her upper chest just below her neck.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Hiram questioned. His voice was lower now, gravelly and ominous. She could see the rage smoldering in his dark eyes, the combination causing goosebumps to rise across her skin, "Did you think they would come in here and take you away? Take my kids away?"

Shelby trembled, tears leaking from her eyes before she could stop them, "Hiram, I swear..I didn't..I had no idea."

"Shut up, you bitch!" Hiram thundered punctuating his words by slamming her against the wall once again. This time she hadn't been expecting it and her head slammed into the wall forcefully, the back of her head throbbing as her teeth clanked together with the force. She felt all the fight leave her body as she sagged in Hiram's embrace. She wanted to keep arguing, but she couldn't she knew nothing she said would make him believe what she was telling him.

"Listen to me and listen, good, can you do that? If you ever…ever think of pulling some shit like this again, I will kill you, do you understand? Nod if you understand," Hiram commanded. Shelby let out a sob and nodded forcefully, "And if you ever think of leaving and taking Blaine and Rachel with you, I promise I will hunt you down and when I find you, you won't ever see them again. Got it?"

"Got it," Shelby whispered, letting out a breath when Hiram released her, and she collapsed to her knees. She squeezed her eyes shut as she waited for any indication that Hiram was retreating, her body tense as she anticipated a final blow.

"Good," Hiram stated punctuating his final statement with a sharp kick to Shelby's ribs. Shelby expelled all the air in her lungs again as she curled onto her side, trying ineffectually to protect her rib cage and abdomen from any further blows but none came, instead, she heard the sound of Hiram's footfalls retreating, up the stairs.

She had laid on the floor for what felt like hours that night and she had wanted nothing more than to gather up the children and take them far away, but she hadn't. She knew she couldn't. Every time she thought of it, she heard his words echoing in her head and she pictured the twins, still so young and innocent, alone with him. She harbored no doubts that Hiram would've taken them from her. He was a doctor and well-respected in the community and connected in ways Shelby no longer was. He had seen to that, isolating her, isolating them in some sick attempt to force her to stay. She stayed numb because she couldn't do anything else.

Even tonight, she felt the familiar tendrils of fear curl in her stomach as Santana begged her to leave as she heard Hiram's familiar threats and promises playing on repeat. Santana hadn't heard the things Hiram had said to her all those years ago, she didn't know what she had been asking her mother to do. Her hands shook with the fear and anxiety that the memory had stirred inside of her. She renewed her search, pill bottles clattering into the sink from the medicine cabinet, the soft thuds echoing off the tile of the bathroom. Her tears fell faster as she began to sob in earnest as her search remained fruitless.

She just needed to be numb. She needed to be numb because she knew Santana was right and she knew Santana was telling the truth. But she didn't understand how she could leave when he was hurting Rachel and risk Rachel being left alone with Hiram if he found them. But she didn't know how she could know that Hiram was hurting Rachel and stay. Her head spun and she felt nauseous and she didn't know what she was supposed to do.

She just wanted to forget. She wanted to forget about bruises on tiny bodies and accusations smoldering in dark eyes. She wanted to forget Hiram's threats from all those years ago and the impossible decisions she now faced. She let out a small cry of relief when she finally found the bottle she had been searching for, popping the top as she dry swallowed two. She stumbled into her bedroom, sleep already pulling at the edges of her mind just barely able to collapse face-first onto her bed as she drifted to sleep.

*Loved it, hated it, let me know either way*