Lover Dearest 6/20
Chapter Three [Part Two]: I Don't Want To Go
"I really need to graduate."
She fell asleep right after she it. I stayed up the whole night trying to figure it out.
I really need to graduate. It echoed in my mind endlessly, like a really bad song with a particularly catchy tune. I really need to graduate. I knew that I could understand what she meant a little bit more now. I mean, she was right. The only way to escape from this stupid town and all its judgment was to leave it. And it would only make sense for her to want to leave Lima so much more after what happened tonight.
But Brittany was not the kind of person who allowed external judgment to define her life. She only really cared to hear the opinion of people she cared about. So why was now so different?
I knew that I could never really be certain of her motivations until she decided to tell me herself, so I just assumed that even if Brittany had her own curious way of coping with difficult things, it didn't mean she was immune to feeling pain. Maybe she just finally had enough.
It wasn't the best conclusion, but I couldn't come up with anything better.
My fingers traced her nose slowly, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. In my mind, I recalled the promise I'd made her. I'll help you, B. I promise. You'll graduate. I swear on it. It meant so much more now than ever. How could something that seemed so harmless and easy suddenly feel so heavy and complex?
I remembered the attack earlier, and I began to think about what it meant for me, and what it meant for us. It forced me out of the closet, and I knew that was reason enough for everything to change for me. But more importantly, it put us in an uncomfortable position under the scorching spotlight, a target for pain and abuse I knew Brittany did not deserve.
That led me to think of Mrs. Pierce and her quiet desperation, her genuine concern for Brittany's welfare. I wanted to hate for practically asking me to end things with Brittany, after all the pain and heartache we'd both gone through to finally make things happen. But I couldn't hate Mrs. Pierce. How could I, when her love for Brittany was probably as strong - if not stronger - than mine?
So the person I ended up hating was myself, because it was the easiest thing to do. Because maybe Mrs. Pierce was right. Maybe my timing was screwed, maybe I should have waited a little bit longer, even if it was going to prolong the longing. And maybe my deliberation in Brittany's shower was right, maybe I was just a huge, selfish bitch. Didn't everyone around me think of me that way, anyway? Manipulative, rude, evil, calculating?
My thoughts persistently attacked me throughout the night, until I was wrapped in a tight bubble of self-deprecation and self-doubt. I'd gone and turned myself against myself. I'd never over-thought and over-analyzed so much in my entire life, and it felt like Brittany was right. She was losing me to me.
But when the first rays of sunlight began to poke through Brittany's curtains, there was one thought that stood out more prominently from all the others, the one thought that made my eyes water and my heart ache: maybe everything that happened was just a testament to how I didn't really deserve Brittany at all.
I gently got off the bed when the duck-shaped clock on her bedside table told me that it was almost seven. She stirred slightly, mumbling, "San?"
I pressed a kiss on her temple, whispering, "Go back to sleep." She mumbled incoherently, before turning and shifting her head in the pillow I used. It was painfully endearing.
Without disturbing her, I found the drawer with my clothes in it and changed into a fresh outfit. When I was done, I stood by the bed for a long moment, watching the way the air made her entire body rise gently and fall slowly.
Then I bent and kissed her forehead once. I love you, my kiss said. I will always love you. She stirred again, her eyes opening into tiny slits.
"San?" She mumbled sleepily again, one hand reaching forward. I took her searching hand in mine, grasping her fingers as tightly as I could.
"I've got to go." I said in a calm voice masking the turmoil inside. "My parents are already going to kill me for not coming home last night."
"Are you sure?" She frowned slightly, using her free hand to rub sleep from her eyes. "You can stay."
I was silent for a moment, thinking to myself. Yes, I can stay, I pictured myself telling her. I want to stay. Anywhere with you was always so much more of my home than the house I live in. But I think I should go.
With my available hand, I combed my fingers through her hair, choosing to remain silent. She watched me with questioning eyes. Then I tucked the stray strands of yellow hair behind her ears, before bending over and kissing her lips chastely.
"I'm going to go." I told her softly, gently extracting my hands.
"I know." She replied with a small, sad smile. "I know."
"I'm sorry." I muttered guiltily, as I began to make my way to the door. Just as I was about to close it behind me, she called out,
"San?"
"Yeah?" I said, poking my head back.
"I want you to know that I don't care about last night. I don't care that people think they can hurt us. I -" she paused for a moment, "I love you, okay? Please don't forget that."
My eyes watered, and my hands tightened on the doorknob. I nodded twice, not trusting myself to speak.
She gave me a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was the last thing I saw before I closed the door silently. When I made it to the living room, I saw Kaye coming towards me, yawning hugely.
"Tana?" She asked, looking up at me blearily, just as I was about to open the front door.
"Hello little princess." I greeted her, my voice weak. I tried - and failed - to smile.
She looked at me unblinkingly for a while before observing, "You look like you want to cry."
"I'm just tired." I lied, looking away and blinking rapidly. I'd forgotten how perceptive Kaye was, just like Brittany.
"Is it because of the bullies?" She asked, coming closer, bending her head to one side curiously. "Daddy said you were hurt by bullies."
"I - something like that." I shrugged.
"He said he was worried about Britt." She continued, ignoring me.
My eyebrows rose, my body tensing. "Why's that?"
Kaye looked at me straight in the eye. Her eyes, a perfect copy of Brittany's, sparkled piercingly. "He thinks this is only beginning."
I felt my mouth dry up.
"He thinks that even if other bullies won't be so bad, they'll still hurt her." She paused. "And you, too."
Don't care so much about the me part. I thought to myself. But I'd sooner impale myself on a fucking stake then have Brittany get hurt again.
"He's scared that they'll finally find a way to break her."
I can't tell what it is anymore - has my heart stopped beating in my chest or has it tripled in beats?
Kaye shrugged, looking down. "I'm scared." She admitted in a tiny voice. "Is she going to be okay?"
I felt the air squeeze out of my lungs as I struggled to breath. "Yes." I finally wheezed. "She's going to be fine, Kaye." I'll do whatever I have to do to make it true.
"Promise?"
I closed my eyes against the wave of overwhelming emotions that sweep over me. "I promise."
I walked back home blindly. I get it, world. I wanted to scream up at the sky. I was wrong to kiss her. Can't you fucking punish me alone?
I could feel the anger the moment I stepped into the house. I could taste it, rushing down my throat and choking me. I could feel it glaring at me when I closed the door, and I almost got frightened for myself.
"You finally decided to grace us with your presence, Your Majesty?"
When I turned around, I saw my father sitting on his favorite armchair, staring at me with a look full of contempt it was surprising, even for him.
"Papa," I began, holding my hands up in attempt to diffuse the tension. I was tired, in the most horrible emotional turmoil since accepting I was gay, and I was in no state to fight him.
"Don't call me that." He said in a dangerously low voice, standing slowly. I took one step back involuntarily. "No daughter of mine is a homosexual."
Against my will, tears filled my eyes. "But I am your daughter, Pa-"
He threw something big and solid in my direction, and I ducked to avoid it. My heart was beating erratically in my chest, my breathing was labored, and adrenalin was pumping in my veins hot and fast. He was by my side before I could get to my feet, and he sent his foot into my left torso. Pain exploded into being, and I rolled myself towards my right and struggled to get into equal grounding.
"You worthless bitch!" He was growling. "Are you trying to humiliate me on purpose? Huh?" He slapped me across my left cheek, countering it almost immediately with a smack to my right. Whimpering, I backed away, finally jumping to my feet in time to avoid the punch he attempted to send into my nose.
I used my palm to strike his sternum. When he lost balance I rammed my fist into his stomach, and he retaliated by grabbing my hair and yanking hard. I yelled out in pain.
He threw me back on the floor, and I landed with an agonized moan.
"You listen to me, you stupid girl." He said furiously. "You will end this. You understand? You end this or I will disown you, and drop support for your college."
I pulled myself into a seating position and pushed myself to my feet. "I don't care!" I screamed back at him, years and years of anger bubbling into the surface. "I don't fucking care. Go ahead and do your worst, you asshole."
His face reddened with anger, and he took a step closer to me. "You dare talk back to me?" He questioned coolly, his gaze like roaring fire. "Don't you dare forget you're a minor, Santana." He hissed, like the snake he was. "I can control your future so much more than you can."
I threw myself at him, fully intending to scratch his eyes out. But in a surprising quick movement, he had both my wrists pinned in his hands, his eyes alight with triumph.
I tried to stare him down, but my father was the perfect predator. He could sense my fear and vulnerability, and he wasn't going to let me go until he knew he crushed me.
"Drop the stupid cheerleader." He ordered, squeezing so tightly I can already feel the bruises coming up.
"No." I said defiantly, shaking my head. "I love her." I declared.
His fingers dug even deeper into my skin, until I was forced to buck my knees with the sheer pain. "Drop the cheerleader, or I'll drop her for you."
"You won't." I tried to inject confidence into my words, confidence I could not feel an ounce of. "You wouldn't even dare."
He smiles in a particularly frightening manner, like a maniacal demon hell-bent on getting his way. It sent warning signals off in my head like fire alarms.
"Drop the stupid cheerleader." He repeated in a smoother voice, deadly and cunning, "Or I swear I'll send you to boarding school halfway across the country."
It sounded like a lame threat, and I almost opened my mouth to tell him it wouldn't matter if he did, because Brittany and I would still find a way despite the distance.
Then in a blinding flash, I remembered the three promises I'd made. You'll graduate. I will be here for you. She's going to be fine.
With the simplest of all his threats, my father had me squeezed into a tiny space. And he knew it.
"Don't think I don't mean it." He whispered into my face, his eyes narrowing. "I can, Santana, and if I have to, I will." He let go of me. "Don't you dare forget."
He let go of my arms, and I dropped unceremoniously to the ground in attempt to nurse them. Monster, I was sobbing in my head. You monster.
He turned around and began to walk away. Then he stopped and turned back. "Also, you're not allowed to go to school this week. If you go behind my back, I will find out."
When he disappeared into his bedroom - my mother stopped sharing one with him years ago - I got to my feet as gently as I could. Leaning heavily against the walls, I made my way to my bedroom, shutting it loudly behind me and locking it. I sank to the floor and practically crawled my way to bed.
Right before I drifted into restless sleep, I pulled out my phone and looked over at the screen. 4 Missed Calls. Britt. Britt. Britt. Britt. 11 New Messages.
I didn't read any of them. I just typed out a quick message - cnt go to school ths week. m sorry. i love u - then I buried my face into my pillow and allowed myself to cry.
/
My mother brought me food three times a day, but she never said anything to me at all. She was as insubstantial as a ghost to me, always there but never really quite present.
It made me feel sad, so much more sadder than I already was.
/
Rachel paid me a visit on the third day of my imprisonment.
"You're missed in Glee." She said softly, taking a seat on the edge of my bed, her eyes wide with horror when she looked at the bruises visible on exposed skin. When I said nothing, she continued, "We've all been taking care of Brittany. She seems to be getting better, but she misses you every day. She'd come and visit but…" Rachel swallowed, "her parents ask her to go straight home after school so…"
I looked away, closing my eyes. After a long moment of silence, Rachel whispered, "They caught them, Santana."
I opened my eyes and looked back at her. "Who?" I rasped out.
"The boys who… attacked you. The Dan kid they brought down to the station? He named all his companions." She hesitated before adding, "Turns out they were from the opposing school in Sectionals. That's how they knew about you and Brittany."
I swallowed. "Thanks." I said, as sincerely as I could manage. For a moment we looked at each other, then I whispered, "Why are you here, Rachel?"
Rachel looked at me for a quiet moment. "Because Brittany is worried about you." She told me softly. "But mostly we're all really worried about Brittany. She… she kept getting slushied the other day, Santana. And her polls on the presidential campaign have been declining. Kurt feels bad enough to actually consider quitting the race."
Her words felt like a punch in the stomach, and I swallowed painfully. I blinked against the liquid that rushed into my eyes. Rachel noticed, but said nothing.
Right before she left, she looked at me searchingly before asking cautiously, "Who did this to you, Santana?" She gestured towards my bruised body. "Was it really those boys? Or was it someone else?"
I looked at her wordlessly, and she nodded, something like pain and pity flashing in her eyes. "I guess I know."
/
Every night in my sleep, I dreamt of Brittany.
It would always start the same: we were out, happy, without a care of anyone else in the world. Not everyone supported us, but the New Directions loved us for who we were, without question. I'd moved out of my house and into Brittany's, which made us spend almost every minute of the day with each other, wrapped in the glory that was our love.
But the dream would always shift, right in the moments where it felt the happiest. It would transform into something dark, scary, brutal. Something would always happen, some terrible event that would rob the stars out of Brittany's eyes and the steal the dance out of her every step. Helplessly, I would watch her degenerate until all her goals slipped through her fingers, and all the promises I made lay crushed on the floor.
Then everyone would encircle me with accusatory looks in their eyes, crying, "This is your fault, your fault. You knew you didn't deserve her but you took her anyway. You knew you couldn't protect her but you insisted anyway. Now look at what she's become!"
The image would warp and change into Mrs. Pierce's face, sobbing, "I knew you were no good for her! I knew you were no good for her!" My father's voice would suddenly burst from the darkness, and Mrs. Pierce's face would fade to reveal his, "You worthless whore! You worthless whore! Did you really need to spread your infectious instability?"
I would start running then, as fast and far as I could. Suddenly I'd appear in a tunnel, with Brittany standing in my way. "You promised me I'd graduate." She would say, the sorrow in her voice echoing around me. "You promised…you promised…you promised…"
I'd wake up then, breathing heavily, my body drenched with sweat, fear and self-loathing pounding in my head. I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let it happen.
/
I snuck out of the house on the seventh day, right after my father left for work.
I trudged slowly towards Brittany's house, my heart growing fainter and fainter with every step I took. I kept my head down the entire journey, trying to find the words I was going to need to say.
I never hurt so much in my entire life.
But with all the facts set down on the table, it made the most sense.
I needed to protect Brittany. I needed to protect her from the bullies in this stupid town, the people who would judge her, hurt her, mistreat her, break her. I needed to protect her from myself, and all the trouble I always seemed to attract like a magnet.
I needed to fulfill my promise. I needed to make her graduate, I needed to be there for her - however she needed me to be - and I needed to make her okay.
I needed her to be happy. The kind of happiness that wasn't marred by the threat of judgment or anxiety, the kind of happiness that wasn't on the constant threat of disruption.
And to do all these, there was one vital step I needed to take. I needed to set her free.
"Santana?" I heard her call out in surprise, just as I reached her house. I heard the sound of her sneakers hitting the pavement as she ran towards me. I felt her arms encircle me, making me feel the protection I knew I could only feel with her. The protection I would be sacrificing. "Are you alright? Rachel said your fa -"
"I love you." I blurted out, finally meeting her eyes, trying not to cry. "You're the only person I've ever really loved, you know?"
Brittany looked taken aback, and I could see the fear growing in her eyes. "Santana."
I shut my eyes against the sight of her face, which was making this infinitely harder. "I'm so sorry." I blubbered out, trying to say what I'd come here to say, without actually saying it at all. It would kill me to say them aloud.
"Please," she begged softly, "Don't cry, San." I swallowed, a solitary tear running down the length of my cheek. "San, you're starting to scare me."
I held my breath until I knew I could do this without breaking down. Only then did I lift my eyes to look back into hers, looking more prominent against her paling face. For a moment I held my gaze, staring into the deep, warm blue that saw me in ways that no one else ever could. For a moment I allowed myself to get lost in the feeling of being loved, and being able to love back. "I love you." I repeated in a steadier voice. "But I'm sorry."
This time, I know she understood what I meant.
Her entire face scrunched up, her eyebrows coming together and her mouth opening in a shocked gasp. "No." She said disbelievingly, her breathing beginning to labor. "No."
I shook my head, taking a step back. She stepped forward in response, trying to hold on to me. "I'm sorry, Brittany." I repeated, taking more steps backwards. When she stood still, tears just beginning to trickle down her cheeks, I turned around and ran. I ignored her when she called out my name desperately.
I had taken the most delicate flower in the world and crushed its petals.
When I was sufficiently far away, I slowed to a walk. I had no plans, no prospects, no idea where I was headed. I just walked, and walked, until there was an ache burning in my legs that even Cheerios practice could not rival. And even then I just kept walking, until I was lost both in my mind and in my town. Somewhere in my head I could tell this was dangerous, and stupid, but I couldn't control the urge to just keep moving, and moving, and moving.
With each step I took, more pieces of me just fell apart.