Flaws (Bastille)
June
Lima, Ohio
"You still promise, right?" It was small and almost unnoticed, but just as I was falling to sleep with Beth on the other side of the screen, reading me a story, her question jolted me back to full consciousness. She was watching me with that raised eyebrow and twisted bottom lip, evidence that being away from me for the last three days had been too much for her.
"Yes, baby girl, I promise. I miss you so much, and I can't wait for our nighttime cuddles!" Her smile was priceless.
"Good!" There was some mumbling in the background, and Beth got up. She left me on the phone, but then there was a familiar head of hair leaning down, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I had missed the calmness of Lydia more than ever after spilling my soul out to the Lopez women.
"Hey there, Q! You look rested. Did you finally talk to someone?" She asked, taking the seat that Beth had vacated. "I sent her to brush her teeth. We have community service tomorrow early."
"She told me you're going to be at the shelter, right?"
"Yes, Vince's firm invested in a bunch of shelters a few years ago. Anyway, did you finally talk to someone?"
"I did. I told two people, and so far, I'm feeling better. Even though I still have this anxiety, I'm coping. It's like this giant sense of doom everywhere I go, but I've just been taking it a moment at a time."
"That crippling anxiety will pass with time...unless you are still in the line of danger?" Her eyebrows raised, and she shrugged. "I'm still not sure what happened, although I'm pretty sure it has to do with that blonde girl. What was her name? Bianca?"
"Brittany."
"Right! I knew it was some cheerful white girl's name."
"Ha! Yeah, well, she's usually insanely chipper, even when she shouldn't be."
"So am I right?" Lydia was digging, but this wasn't something I was willing to talk about over Skype, especially not with Beth in earshot.
"I really don't want to talk about it, but yes, it was her."
"I'm sorry to hear that, I really am."
"I'm done!" Beth came back, her head back on the screen. "Titi says I need to go to bed. I have to say goodnight."
"How did I teach you to say it?" Lydia said.
"Oh!" Beth grinned and then, after taking a moment to get it right, "Buenas noches!"
By the time I ended the call with Lydia and Beth, I was wired. It had been nearly two whole days since I had talked to Maribel and Santana; I had asked them for space and time to get myself together.
Maribel respected it, but Santana was still calling me and texting me. The last thing I wanted was her sympathy, but it seemed all she had to give me. Brittany had to be back by now, and if I was to believe what Santana was saying, then their marriage was headed south. The last thing that she should be doing is reaching out to me.
She would see me the next night anyway, and after much deliberation, I decided that I would attend Maribel's party even if my mother had decided that California was starting to suit her.
The party would be in a public space, and with the Lopez women on my side, I felt like I could conquer anything.
My confidence was making a resurgence, and a lot of that had to do with not focusing on Brittany and the words that were still trying to force their way into my every move.
So I made a list of the top five places where she could end up after Julliard and then crossed off any school that was within a fifty-mile radius. New York was at the top of her list, so Columbia and NYU left mine.
By the time I was done, I had two schools that were worth my time, UPenn and Baylor. Of course, Baylor was just a toss-in because it was my mother's Alma Mater, but the choice between an Ivy in the city and being back in Bible-thumping Texas was simple.
Hopefully, in just a few months, I would be the newest Philadelphia resident with the added benefit of having Puck a stone's throw away in Delaware and Jake in the same city meant that there were family connections for Beth.
I had it all planned out; I should have expected the world to fall apart, but I wasn't going to allow myself to get sucked into the whole nobody loves me depressive spiral that I so often find myself on.
History, though, has always repeated itself because not getting too comfortable is something that I have yet to master.
After researching more about Philly and finding places that would be close to campus, it was past midnight, and I was sitting alone in a dark house with the chills in June.
I didn't want to check the thermostat because that meant going downstairs, which I didn't want to do, but then I had that familiar ache in my back, which meant I was clenching my muscles and creating unnecessary pain.
I turned on the hallway light and ran down the stairs, eyes on the little box on the wall at the bottom of the steps.
"Hi, Quinn." Came a voice near the front door that was in the shadows.
Distracted and scared, I lost my footing and began to tip forward on my sock-covered feet. I'm still unsure if it was fortunate or unfortunate that I never completed the fall.
A body blocked my fall; as my luck would have it, the body wasn't one that I wanted near me, even if I was falling.
"What are you doing here?" I shrieked as I pushed her off me and reached for the light. When I managed to get the foyer lights on, I could see that she was a wreck.
Her hair was mussed, her face was swollen, and her eyes were red-rimmed.
"Santana kicked me out because of you and your big mouth." She said, wiping at her tears and sucking in her trembling bottom lip.
"Is that so?" I asked, my hand gripping the bottom of the railing. She blocked my exit, and the only way to go was up. I had seen enough horror movies to know that running up the stairs was never an option. Rarely, though, was the girl murdered on the stairs. So I was going to stay right there, come hell or high water. "You're lucky I don't file assault charges."
She went from weepy to enraged in a split second, and I was ill-prepared for it. She shoved me back so quickly that my grip on the railing slipped, and my back collided with the steps. I nearly bit through my tongue as she pressed me against the steps.
"I didn't assault you, but now I might." She said, using her height as an advantage to keep me where she wanted me. "Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut and leave things alone?"
I wasn't frozen, so I pushed and scratched at her, giving my all to get her off me.
But she was stronger.
"Brittany, stop!" I screamed as I landed a punch on the side of her head. She retracted a little bit, enough at least that I could push at her chest. Her hips, though, continued to keep me pinned.
"No. I don't care what you do; nobody is coming for you, and if they do, it will be too late." With that, she righted herself and stood at the bottom of the steps, blocking me from moving.
She reached over and hit the light switch so that we were plunged into darkness at the base of the stairs. I had no room to stand, so I crawled backward up two stairs, suddenly understanding the urge to run up the stairs and hide under the bed.
Brittany was stronger, but I was always faster, so I lifted my foot, kicked her stomach as hard as I could, and didn't stop to look back as I scrambled up the steps toward my room.
I had the door shut and was seconds from locking it when she used her shoulder to bang it open.
What occurred after that was something that will stay with me forever.
She had me bent backward over the bed with her hand under my nightgown quicker than I could understand. The look in her eyes was otherworldly, and the gun, my God, the gun she had to my head as she plunged her hand into me, tearing me in two, was so very cold.
"I hate you." She grunted, her fingers pounding relentlessly as I panted in pain and pleasure. "Look at you, getting off on this. It's not assault, Quinn. Say it!"
I shook my head as the tears poured from me.
"No." I whimpered, breathless.
She pressed the gun deeper against me, and I was praying to God that it didn't accidentally go off, praying that I would see my little girl again.
"Say it. Tell me you want this. Say it." Her forehead rested against mine now, the smell of her faintly resembling Santana's, and I sobbed louder. I could feel my body responding to her, and I hated every second of it. "Even if you end up with her, you're going to mess it up, and I'll be there to get her back. She belongs to me, and now so do you."
"Stop...please!" I screamed.
Her hand pulled away just as I was on the cusp of getting some pleasure from all the pain; I groaned when she slapped her hand down against my clit over and over. I bit my lip as she punished me for every wrong she'd dreamed up. Then she held up her hand so I could see how drenched it was.
"Tell me again how much you don't want this." She chuckled as she held her fingers to my lips. "Clean up your mess, Slut. Suck." She said, not even giving me a choice as she shoved two of her fingers in my mouth until I gagged. I bit down and was rewarded with the metallic taste of her blood. "You bitch! You'll pay for that!" She screeched as she yanked her fingers back.
Blood covered her hand as I watched the humor leave her face. I dangled half off the bed as she stood between my legs, her left hand holding the gun firmly to my temple.
I heard the gun click as she pulled the trigger; I closed my eyes and repented for my sins, even after no bullet.
All I could see was Beth the last time she'd lost someone, and I knew I'd be in that number.
Brittany pulled the trigger again to no avail, yet I still prayed. Her frustration rose with each empty shot, "I wish San were here to help me with this." She muttered, and finally, I laughed. Of course, she would forget to load the gun.
"Stupid, stupid Britt." I said as I brought my hand up and shoved the gun away. I heard another click and then a loud bang. My bedroom window shattered as the bullet made contact, and all traces of laughter left me.
Just one more click, and I'd be dead.
I looked up at her, and saw some of the fog clearing in her eyes; she could have killed me. She looked down at me and then at her blood-covered fingers and seemed to resolve herself to finish what she started.
"That was close."
"B, please stop this." I whispered when her eyes were searching mine. "Please? You're hurting me, Brittany. You're breaking my fucking heart. Please stop."
Her lips pressed against my face, and her tears mingled with mine as she gently put her hand between my legs. Her other hand, now gun-free, came to rest on my neck, but she didn't apply pressure.
"I know it hurts, but you're strong, stronger than me, and since you took her away from me, you owe me this." She said, tears clogging up her nose and making her voice sound so young and innocent.
"Or you could stop. We can walk away and never look back."
"I've gone too far. She'll never forgive me now." She said, her fingers bringing me back to the brink. "You were close before. At least you should feel something good."
How can I begin to explain the strange way that she was making me feel? It was like being at war with both sides of her. Like one part of her wanted nothing but my happiness and affection. It was the side Santana loved, and I had become friends with.
My orgasm hit me hard. I arched into her, and she just watched in awe, like she was seeing me for the first time.
"Please?" I begged, not knowing what I needed or wanted but knowing I needed it to fucking end.
"I'm sorry for this, Quinn. I know...I know that I'm not good enough for her. I'm sorry for everything. I'm so sorry." She whispered, the truth of her apology in her eyes even if her fingers were still moving, urging me to give her everything I had.
"Please stop?" I begged again, and she stared at me with a new determination covering her face.
She brought her lips to mine and kissed me softly, her fingers making quick work of my next two orgasms. It was the closest thing to consensual, and I hated myself for wanting it right then.
It was a murky, grey area that had me feeling violated and guilty simultaneously.
Regardless of the outcome, I knew that neither of us would be the same again.
I was afraid to move after she left.
Once she was over the threshold of my bedroom door, I locked the it and wedged my desk chair under the knob.
I was holding back sobs as blood dripped down my legs and stained my slippers.
There was no way I could call Santana or Maribel. What if Britt had gone back there acting like nothing had happened?
No, there was only one person who Brittany wouldn't fuck with.
"Hey! Did you miss me already? It's been like two hours."
"Pop?" I squeaked.
He got quiet.
"She got to you?"
"I'm in my room, I...I don't know if she left the house. I'm hurt."
"Ambulance hurt?"
"No. Please, I just need you to help me get out of here."
"I'm on my way."
"Please don't tell her." I whispered.
"No. This is between us, for now, at least. I'll be there soon. Are you in a safe place?"
"Yes...please just be careful. She has a gun."
"Damnit, Santana." He grumbled. "Stay on the phone."
"I will."
Antonio got there in record time with his medical bag and a gun of his own.
At that moment, I had no shame about him seeing me bloody and bruised.
He stitched up my cheek, which I didn't even realize was split open.
After he took a few pictures, just in case I decided to press charges, he waited for me to shower so that he could continue to patch me up.
I had bite marks, blooming bruises, and was in so much fucking pain.
But all I wanted was to get as far away from Lima as possible.
Antonio had cleaned up any evidence that was left behind and told me he'd have the window fixed before Judy got home.
He got me packed, and then I slept in his guest room, fully expecting to wake up to Maribel and Santana hovering, but instead, it was just Antonio with prescriptions for antibiotics and low-dose painkillers.
I had told him my graduate school choice, and he got me a hotel room and plane ticket to Philly for the next afternoon.
Before Maribel or Santana could come looking, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Sue's car with her fuming over what had occurred.
I expected her to raise hell, but instead, she was gentle with me.
"Why are you being so nice?"
"It's what you deserve. I'll do my part to make sure she never touches you again."
"Thank you."
July
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
"Quinn? Do you need me to repeat the question?"
I was contemplating the course list and had completely missed the question. I looked up at my grad adviser and nodded.
"I'm sorry, this is just a really big step for me."
"That's perfectly fine. I've seen cases like yours before. Pre-Med or Pre-Law in undergrad and then come time for the next step, people find themselves trigger shy."
My breath caught in my chest at her words, flashes of that night still fresh in my mind despite the quiet and soft way things ended, with her apologizing and then leaving me there...satisfied, sullied, and shamed.
I hadn't told a soul about it. Instead, I caught the first flight to Philly and have been here ever since. I had no desire to go back to Lima and deal with the fallout; frankly, I wasn't even sure there was any.
My focus was on school and finding a place, very mindful of my savings wearing away.
"Undergrad was pretty saturated with everything focused on med school and now, I'm not so sure about what's next."
"Which brings us back to the question at hand. What makes you want to pursue a master's in Psychology?"
"I've been through a lot, a teenage pregnancy, I was temporarily paralyzed, and I've dealt with..." Although it was getting easier to say, it still wasn't something I wanted to admit to a virtual stranger, but I needed this interview to qualify for the program that I wanted. "I've faced sexual abuse. I feel like I could really help some people."
She sat forward at her desk and looked me over. I was wearing my best, and my hair was perfect; I was the picture of white suburbia, but something about my words had her attention.
"I commend you for being honest. It's very hard to give voice to our struggles without breaking down." If only she knew just how much it broke me on the inside to even think about what I'd been through.
"Thank you." I gave a small smile and returned my eyes to the course list. The program would give me enough time for Beth, and the stipend would be enough to cover minor expenses.
"Now, if you're accepted to the program, I want you to know that we require a weekly therapy session. Things come up in our classes and sessions that, without some kind of outside professional interference, can be detrimental to our students. Would you agree to that?"
I thought of Maribel and how easy talking to her had been; it was how I wanted to be. She lived her truth, and subsequently, so did Santana. It was admirable, and now I could see why. She probably still saw a therapist to keep herself sane. I'd have to ask her about it.
"Absolutely, I'll do whatever it takes."
"Good, in that case," She held a hand out, and I shook it. "Welcome to the University of Pennsylvania, and welcome to the program."
"So?" I was pacing the sidewalk in front of my hotel as Lydia came onto the line.
"I did it. I'm in!"
"Congratulations! I'm so excited! I wish Beth were with me. She'd be singing that song to you right now."
"What song?" I asked, even though I knew exactly which one. Beth had sung it for three days before her party.
"You know the one, I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it...I'm about to lose control, and I think I like it...woooo." She sang.
My grin was so wide that it hurt my face. "Thanks for that."
"No problem, so what time does your flight get in?"
"Seven. You haven't told her, have you?"
"Nope. I'm going to drop her off for her play date with Alex and then you are coming with me to pick her up."
"Oh, she is going to sing the song for me...I'm the one that's excited now!"
"Yeah?"
"Definitely, I'm also excited to see you again. I've missed you more than I realized that I would."
"Well, that's because it's impossible not to miss me or love me."
"I never said love!" I said as the airport taxi pulled up to the curb.
"Oh, if you're not there yet, you will be! Just wait and see Quinn Fabray. Before you know it, you'll be all up on this!"
I smiled, even as a pang of longing shot through me. Lydia and the old Santana were so much alike that it had me missing that part of my friend and wishing that I could put these two amazing women into one body.
"If you say so."
"Oh, I know so, Quinn. There's no avoiding it, Vincent and I are already betting on it!"
"No, you're not!"
"Yes, we are!" Vincent said from the background.
"It's inevitable, but if you happen to realize it in the next month, make sure you tell Vincent. He has always been ambitious."
"Oh God." I was blushing so hard that the cab driver was looking back at me oddly. "You two should be studied and also teach some classes on how to be happy divorced people."
"Oh darling, what we have can't be taught."
"Obviously."
The further and the longer that I was away from Lima, the easier it was getting easier to act as if none of the bad stuff had happened at all, and I liked it that way. I knew that it would eventually come up but for now,
I was doing my best to suppress it and focus on the bigger things, like my future with my little girl.
My flight to Lima and then to Philly were spent drunk and stressed about the darkness, but the flight from Philly to Laredo was very different. I slept for half of it and spent the other half planning awesome things for Beth and me to do together. I was landing before I knew it and one step closer to seeing my little girl again. Nothing could be better than that.
Lydia stood at the top of the receiving line as I came out of baggage claim; she had two roses and a smile on her face. She must have been serious about getting me to fall for her; honestly, she was off to a good start.
"Hey there, sunshine!" She said excitedly as she traded my suitcase for the roses. "Your carriage awaits." She teased, and I couldn't help but blush.
"Hey." I said, leaning in and kissing her cheek before pulling away and following behind her. She had a skip in her step while I had Brittany on my brain. It shouldn't be that way, but it's not that easy to forget, even if I act like it is.
Brittany still lingered somewhere in the recesses of my mind, haunting my psyche like the ultimate big bad, but I brushed it away. Assured that this last time, she had scared herself more than I had.
She wouldn't touch me again, not in a million years.
Lydia, though, was something completely different. What I felt for her couldn't touch Santana by a long shot, but it was something acceptable and easy.
And while I knew that there was no way that I would date her, it still felt good to be wooed. It felt good to know that I wasn't completely undesirable and worthless.
I will be the first person to admit that Brittany had pulled some serious Jedi mind games on me. There was no way that I was ready to give myself to anyone else for the foreseeable future.
My heart belonged to Beth and Beth only.
The ride to Alex's house was mostly silent. Lydia updated me on the custody hearing that brought me down here only a few weeks after I left. Vincent had taken care of all the leg work, and now I just needed to meet with the judge and lay out my plans to raise Beth as a single mother.
I would need to go to two hearings, one by myself and another with Beth and my references. Luckily for me, my references were the two people with primary temporary guardianship of Beth. Lydia and Vincent.
They assured me that I had nothing to worry about, but that doesn't mean I wasn't still anxious. Seeing Beth, though, would reinforce what I was fighting for.
Lydia had already prepped Alex's mom that I would be the one coming to the door, so after she peeked out the window to make sure it was me, she let Beth answer it.
The door creaked open, and her head was turned as she yelled goodbye to Alex. I stood there holding out one of the roses that Lydia gave me and waited for her to see me.
Beth turned towards me and froze; her mouth hung open, and tears came to her eyes.
"Mama Q?" She squeaked.
"Hey there, baby girl. Did you miss me?"
She crooked her finger, and I slowly bent forward, aware of the fading bruises on my back that still hurt if I moved too quickly. I braced myself, but I was no match for Beth, throwing herself into my arms. I was winded but recovered quickly as I stood up with her clinging to me.
"You came back." She said as I waved to Alex's mom before heading back to the car.
"A promise is a promise." I said as I looked into her beautiful eyes.
"Is that...that flower for me?" She asked as she pointed down at my other hand.
I brought it up to her nose and twirled it. She pulled her face back, giggling.
"This flower is for you. Do you like it?"
"Yes! It's yellow, my favorite color!"
"I know, Titi Lydia got me one too. A pink one."
"That's your favorite color, right?"
"One of them, although my most favorite color is green."
"No way! Mama's was green too!"
"Great minds think alike."
"I love you, Mama Q. Thank you for coming back for me."
"I love you too, baby girl. I will ALWAYS come back for you."
August
It was the last week before classes started, and I was putting the finishing touches on the apartment that Vincent and Lydia had insisted on helping me rent. It was overpriced for the amount of space I got, but a quick online check tells me I got a serious bang for my buck.
Leaving Beth again was much easier, knowing that at the end of the summer, I'd have her all to myself until December.
I had so much to do, but the movers that Vincent had hired had done most of the work for me before I had even arrived, and because of that, it took me only one day to get everything I needed to be done.
It was still early morning when there was a knock on the door. I almost didn't answer, but something told me that I really should, but when I opened the door, I second-guessed it.
I began to shut the door again, but the desperate sound of her voice gave me pause.
"Don't slam the door." Brittany said, a gift-wrapped box in her hands. "I promise, this will be the last time that I visit unannounced, I just...we just wanted to see your new place...please?"
"We?" I said, the chain keeping her from pushing inside, not that she was trying.
"Santana is parking the car. If you want me to wait out in the hall for her to come up, then I will."
"I would actually."
The pain was written on her face, and I was torn between feeling guilty and standing my ground. I knew that she was sorry, but still, I knew what she was capable of.
"Okay."
"Did you tell her?" I asked, and she shook her head.
"I didn't, but...if you want me to...I'm so sorry." She said, looking uncomfortable and nervous.
"I know. I'm going to shut this door while you wait for her."
"Okay."
I put the coffee on, took a deep breath, leaned over the counter, and folded my hands in prayer.
"Father, I know it's been a while and that I've just been off on my own. Just, please give me strength. I don't know what to do. I'm just so tired. I want to do things right. I want to be happy. I want your peace. Please get me through this. I need you."
There was a knock on the door, and I stood up and took a deep breath. Still unsure of whether or not I want to talk to Santana about what happened between Brittany and me. It just didn't seem like it was worth it.
Not yet, at least.
I opened the door, this time without the chain, and Santana stood there poised to knock again with a smile on her face.
"Hey Q!" She wasted no time wrapping me in a hug, one that I was way too stiff to reciprocate. Aside from Beth, I hadn't been accepting hugs, and the main reason was still lingering in the hallway watching her wife (?) hug me.
Santana let go and then stepped past me into the apartment. Her concern for her wife seemed slight as she began snooping.
"So you two are working things out?" I asked as Brittany kept her head down and stepped past me. She was a far cry from the person who hovered over me and held a gun to my head.
I shut the door and took another deep breath before turning around. Brittany was sitting at the end of my sofa, quieter than I had ever seen her, watching and waiting for Santana to respond.
"It's complicated. In fact, I wanted her to stay in the car because things were never resolved between the three of us, but she insisted on coming up and now look at her...a zombie."
It was a joke...at least I think it was, but Brittany looked hurt by the comment.
Why did I feel bad for her?
What the hell was wrong with me?
"You guys should have called." I found myself saying, no amusement in my voice whatsoever.
"Damn. So, a zombie and a frosty teen mom. I'm the luckiest girl in the world."
"Tell me that you didn't come all this way to be rude?" I snapped, and Santana sighed, dropping onto the couch next to Brittany.
"Let's start again. Brittany and I, despite that fucked up thing she did to you, are trying to make it work. She's a work in progress, just like I am."
"Okay." I said, trying my best not to roll my eyes, but I'm not sure I was successful. "So what do I have to do with that?"
"Q, you left town very fast, you skipped my mom's birthday with not even a bullshit excuse, and I think it has something to do with Brittany. She won't answer my questions about the stitches I paid for, the welts and scratches on her skin or where my gun is, I asked her if you could answer those questions, and she got like this. She's been like this the whole drive from New York. Three hours of this, Brittany, and I know you have to have the answers. Otherwise, I need to be even more concerned!"
The pieces were clicking into place.
This wasn't a social call.
Santana wanted answers, and a sick part of me felt bad for Brittany...
"I think she should be the one to tell you."
Santana turned towards Brittany, her eyes squinting, "So it did have something to do with you? What did you do, Brittany?"
Brittany dropped her face in her hands, and her shoulders began to shake.
And that's when words my mother had told me back when she wanted me to forgive my sister for something appeared in my mind,
"Forgiveness, Quinnie, is sometimes more for the person doing the forgiving than the person that that they are trying to forgive."
Every instinct told me to let Santana tear Brittany to shreds, but then the Christian in me wanted to shield her.
"You know what, San, I've already let it go and if you want to make things work with Brittany, even if it's bad enough that you drove her here, I think that you need to let it go too."
"What? That doesn't even make any fucking sense!"
"For me, it does. Please, just drop it."
"Drop it? Maybe if I knew what the fuck happened, I could!"
"It doesn't matter...I just want to move on." Santana was glaring at me in disbelief, and I didn't blame her.
"No, Quinn, I need to be honest..." Brittany said, dropping her hand to her lap and turning her sad eyes to Santana, who only seemed angrier at the sight of fresh tears on Brittany's face.
"Great, fuck what Quinn says, let's put it all out there, B."