Title: Last Resort
Pairings: Santana/Brittany? I'm not sure yet, I know Lauren/Puck and Tina/Mike, but for anything else, it's a toss up, you guys can review with the ships you want and I'll see what I can do.
Rating: T (Self Mutilation and Attempted Suicide)
Spoilers: Yes, most of all Glee…
Summary: The room looked like an F5 tornado dropped down in just that one spot. The mattress was half way on the box spring, the covers and sheets and pillows were scattered around the room. The mirror on the vanity that Santana loved was shattered.
Author's Note: This is a multi-chapter story, and it's going to be long…long, I felt you needed a warning, so if you want to stay with, welcome aboard U.S.S Suicidal Santana and her recovery…I've had this in my books for a while, so I finally decided to write it…The story line is before season three, I'll have dates and stuff on the chapters, so it might be a little askew from the actual dates in the episodes, just stick with me…And yes, Santana's dad's name is Mario, I only thought of the actor after I wrote it all and Mario was already stuck to the story…The genres may change…
If you ever feel like she's feeling, if you hurt your self and/or feel like life isn't worth it anymore, please, PM me and I'll give you my number and we'll talk, whenever, okay? I know what it feels like, to feel so awful, so just, please…
Also, does it snow in Ohio?
Disclaimer: I won't own it ever, and now that I think about it, I wouldn't want to own Glee, too much pressure…
February 25, 2011
"Alright guys," Mr. Shue clapped his hands together, smiling around at his students. "Let's wrap it up today-"
"Wrap what up? Cause it's not anybodies birthday." Brittany scratched her head confused with her index finger.
"...Glee is over today. I have a doctor's appointment to get to, so drive safe, have a good weekend, bye!" The curly haired teacher quickly collected his things and scurried out the choir room door. Everyone, with the exception of Artie who was sick that day, sat still and waited until the door closed behind him before they started talking.
"Satan's been gone for a week now." Mercedes started off the topic for the day.
"Did she text anyone yet?" Kurt asked, glancing at Puck and Brittany for answers. All the teens shook their heads.
"I texted her to tell her my kitties were trying to get me to tell them all my secrets, but she never answered back." The kids let go of the weirdness of Brittany's statement and focused on what she told them.
No one has seen or heard from Santana in seven days.
"Maybe we should go to her house?" Tina suggested with an uncertain shrug of her shoulder.
"Which one?" Brittany asked.
"Um, she only has one Britt." Quinn answered, rolling her hazel eyes.
"No. She has one with her Mom and one with her Dad. She's with her Mom on school days and with her Dad on weekends."
The Glee club frowned at not knowing their resident Bitch's parents were divorced and she was shuffled between the two.
"We could check her Mom's first, then her Dad's."
"Okay, who's driving?"
Once they were situated in Kurt's escalade and Mike's Mom's minivan, Brittany gave directions to Santana's Mom. They passed the good neighborhoods to the worst part of Lima, Ohio. Houses were falling apart, dealers stood on corners, people high on whatever they could find wobbled on their rotting porches.
They finally reached the Lopez house.
After some small debate, all the kids got out and huddled close together and went to knock on the door of the dark house. Some fumbling was heard from within the house and a woman answered the door. The club jumped back. Her hair was all over the place, a roller still dangling from a section. Too much make-up caked her face, trying to bring back beauty that was once there, but now forever gone.
"Whadya wan'?" She barked out in a slurred voice, clearly drunk. Puck pushed Rachel out. She turned to glare at him before looking at the frightful woman in front of her.
"Uh, we wanted to know, if, uh, Santana was home?" Rachel stuttered. The woman narrowed her eyes into a horrific glare.
"That faggot doesn' live 'ere an'more." She slammed the door hard enough that the windows shook. The club was stunned at the cold anger coming from the mother of their friend.
"To her Dad's?" The group quickly left in a relieved hurry. Pulling up to her fathers, it was clearly much better than the other house. Once again they all got out of their cars and Quinn knocked on the door. It was silent before rushing footsteps came to the door. Her Dad stood at a full six foot nine, attaching a Rolex watch to his wrist.
"We're Santana's friends-"
"Oh, right, Cheerios?"
"…No, Glee club." Mercedes answered slowly.
"Santana's in Glee? Did that just happen?" He looked confused and a little frustrated that his watch wouldn't clasp.
"She's been in Glee for two years." Rachel said incredulously.
"Oh, when she gets back from her mother's, I'll ask her about it."
"She's not at Ms. Lopez's house." That stilled his fumbling hands.
"What, why?" His worried eyes peered into all of theirs.
"Ms. Lopez kicked Santana out…You didn't know?" Quinn told him, concerned.
"No, but she said on Sunday that she was going to her mother's." He left the doorway, dropping the watch, and booked it up the narrow stairs to a closed door. The club followed him. He tried the door knob and when he felt it resist, he knew it was locked, something you could only do from the inside. He stepped back a foot and ramped him shoulder against the wooden door.
"Mija!" He did it again and again, making no progress against the door. "Santana!" Stepping back again, he turned his body to the other side and made his entire body fly at the door. It finally gave way and the desperate father stumbled into the darkness. He looked about the room and ran into another door that was left ajar with the light filtering into the main room.
His cry of anguish called to the Glee clubs heart strings and pulled them into the room. Brittany, Puck, Quinn, and Mercedes went into the room first, followed slowly by everyone else.
What Mercedes saw in just the room alone was enough to make her want to throw her cookies. Sam, Finn, and Tina rushed out, all three turning a little green. Mike left to go comfort his girlfriend and Lauren walked out to help the boys, but mostly because she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Mercedes took one long glance around the room before leaving too, to help Lauren with the others.
Brittany walked to the window and pushed back the curtain so the already darkroom would light up. Quinn searched the wall for the light switch and when she found, she flipped it up with a click.
The room looked like an F5 tornado dropped down in just that one spot. The mattress was half way on the box spring, the covers and sheets and pillows were scattered around the room. The mirror on the vanity that Santana loved was shattered. Blood stained the broken pieces of glass, the wall and floor had droplets ebbing in a trail going to the room that Mr. Lopez was now in.
Papers with Santana's writing stuck out from under the mattress and fell on the floor, swooshing when the people walked by. The walls. It was truly the walls that made all the girls tear up and the two remaining guys clench their fists.
Faggot. Homo. Big Fat Lesbian. Hate the World. Never Enough. Second Best. Bitch. Whore. No One To Love. No One Loves Me. All Alone. Fake. Unworthy. Dyke. Only Ever Work On A Pole. Fags Go To Hell.
It was scrawled across the sides and the ceiling in markers and various make-up products that could be found; lipstick, eye liner, lip liner, eye shadow. It was angry, every word was written in angry writing, except All Alone, which appeared to be written so slowly that you could feel her realization sink in at her truth.
"Oh my god!" Rachel screamed and fled the room, tears already falling from her eyes. Quinn, Puck, Brittany and Kurt walked slowly over to where Rachel was, by the open door that Mr. Lopez was in. Looking in, they saw the bathroom connected to the bedroom. The walls were white, the tile was white, the toilet, the towels, the sink, all white.
Or at least…
Kurt blanched and took Rachel's lead in leaving the room of his dark club member. Only Puck, Quinn, and Brittany felt rooted to the spot at the sight before them.
The bathroom mirror held the same fate as the vanity mirror. Blood clung to little bits and soaked the floor. A razor lay on the cold tile next to crimson splatter. Mr. Lopez was kneeling on the floor, the knee's in his pants red from absorbing the thick liquid that seemed to be everywhere.
Santana's father let out silent sobs that shook his rocking frame. His teenage daughter, Santana Isobel Lopez, was in his arms. Her long charcoal colored hair clumped together and stuck to her skin. Her complexion, normally a natural olive, was pasty white. Her face was passive, not betraying her self. Her lips were opened a quarter of an inch, her eyes lightly closed, no muscle in her body appeared to be tense, all pleasantly relaxed.
Santana was half in her father's lap, half in the tub. Her knees were on the edge of the white tub stained scarlet. Her wrists, sliced too far down and so far up her arm, still bled at a steady pace. Her inner thighs were also slashed in jagged lines, those stopped at the elevation of her lower body. Her knuckles were bruised and bloody and her open palm hand red cuts along them.
Somewhere in all their minds, they were thankful that even in her suicidal mind, Santana left on a pair of simple black cotton panties and a matching bra so that her father wouldn't have to worry about her indecency, but instead her life that still hung in the balance by a thin spider's web.
"Call nine-one-one." Mr. Lopez whispered, his mouth against his child's cool forehead. "Call nine-one-one!" He shouted, whipping around. His eyes were swollen, red from crying. Tears glistened brightly on his tanned cheeks. Quinn ran from the room to call an ambulance.
"Mr. Lopez…?" Brittany asked him softly. He squeezed his eye lids together. "Should we put something on her scratches? I saw it on TV and it's supposed to stop the bleeding, right?" Slowly the man, who aged thirty years in the past five minutes, released his daughter from his death grip and pulled her the rest of the way out of the tub. He yanked his green button-down shirt off and began to rip it into pieces.
"Sir?" Mr. Lopez flicked his gaze up at Puck, who had also taken off his shirt, leaving both men in tank tops. "Here. To help with…" Puck glanced down at his former girlfriend.
"Thank you." He croaked hoarsely and took the shirt. The movements were rushed and soon all the wounds were covered, though they were quickly soaking up the blood.
"The ambulance should be here soon." Quinn said after she reappeared. Mr. Lopez, nodding, pushed hair from Santana's pale face.
"Oh mija, what led to this? What was happening that you could not tell me?" The older man murmured.
The three teenagers ducked out and went downstairs with the rest of the club to wait for the ambulance. It was somber downstairs, if not more than upstairs.
"So she…" Tina trailed off, seeing three of the five people to actually see Santana. "How is she?" As soon as the words left her mouth, she hit her self. "Never mind, don't answer that."
"How could we have not seen she was in trouble?" Puck growled, clenching his fists.
"You know how she was-is! I mean, you know how she is!" Finn jumped at his own slip of past tense.
"She was deflecting! That's how she is! How mean had she gotten lately? To keep attention off her self, goddamn it!" He turned and kicked the coffee table over. "She should have told us!"
"But she didn't and that's not our fault." Lauren rubbed his back softly as she cooed at him.
"I've known her, no, almost all of us have known her since we were ten. How could we not have seen her turn…suicidal?" The mow hawked boy asked, the last word making his stomach clench.
"She acted the same now as she did then." Rachel told him with a small frown.
"So she wanted to kill her self for seven years? Because with how she looked in there-" He cut him self off as an ambulance pulled up in the front yard.
Everyone jumped into their cars and trailed after the speeding ambulance. The others who hadn't seen Santana in her eerie environment blanched at the blood and absolute lifelessness of the normally lively girl.
The teenagers entered the parking lot as the paramedics quickly unloaded the teenaged Latina. Her father held tightly to the gurney with one hand and his child's hand with the other. The kids all chased him inside before they reached a bunch of doctors and nurses in flimsy yellow gowns.
The paramedics were yelling medical jargon and the doctors quickly took hold of the moving cart. One nurse turned and pushed Mr. Lopez off of the gurney. She held him back as he tried to move past her.
"That's my-Amy! That's my daughter!"
"I know, Mario." Said the five foot redhead. "But Richard and Garrett need to fix her up and they can't do that with you in there."
"We'll take good care of her, I promise."
"She's the only child I have left, I can't lose her too."
"Let us do our job and you won't. Stay out here, I'll come back with any news, okay?" She squeezed his forearm thoughtfully before running off to help Santana.
Mario was left to look in the direction in which they took his daughter. He sighed after several minutes and turned to go to the waiting room. Running his fingers through his hair, he flopped down in the chairs. He looked up and scanned the crowd of frightened faces.
"So…you're my daughter's friends?" He smiled at Brittany as he already knew her.
"Yeah, we're all in Glee together." Rachel answered, sitting next to Quinn with Tina and Mike on the other side of her.
"What happened to Cheerios?"
"Coach tried to kill me." Brittany said, smiling faintly as she did so. Sam reached over and pat her knee.
"She tried to make Quinn, Brittany, and Santana choose between Glee and cheerleading." Finn explained, glancing over his shoulder at Puck and Lauren who said nothing and remained stoic.
"Santana picked Glee?" The way her father said it, he sounded generally surprised.
"Your daughter has a phenomenal voice, Mr. Lopez." Rachel commented.
He laughed, almost bitterly. "I know. She was amazing when she was younger, but after…she stopped singing when she was eight. I haven't heard a note, a hum, or whistle since."
"What happened?" Mercedes asked while Kurt nodded next to her.
Mario was silent for what seemed like forever before he answered. "What has she told you about our home life?"
"Only that you were a doctor, but we just learned this morning that you and her mother are divorced." Kurt told him.
"That little?" His eyes glistened again, but he blinked away the tears gathering in his eyes. "Santana had a twin, Santiago."
"A twin?" Quinn's eyebrows rose.
"Santiago?" Mercedes questioned.
"Had?" Brittany murmured.
"Yes, they were very close, stuck like glue some would say. They went to the park one day, alone. They had wanted to go all week, but Mia, their mother, and I were too busy to take them.
"So they walked them selves to the park, and when they were walking back…" He stopped to rub his eyes and sniffle. "When they were walking back, Santiago was struck by a car. He died later that week in the hospital. He was eight and a half. Santana never forgave her self. Even though she was only a few minutes older, she dubbed her self as his protector. That she couldn't protect her own twin brother…it broke her.
"Though I suppose she wasn't the only one. Her mother and I started arguing and fighting until eventually Mia took Santana and left. I didn't see them for a year, not for lack of trying to find them, and threw my self into work. When I did meet up with them, the damage was done. She closed her self off from the world and her mother was on drugs and drinking.
"I had gotten partial custody due to my work schedule, but I guess that made things worse because she was stuck in between us." He sighed. "I never thought abut it from her point of view before. Doesn't matter now." He muttered.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Lopez." Mario looked up and saw Brittany staring at him with broken eyes. "I'm so, so sorry." She got to her feet and sat next to him. The blonde leaned forward and caught the older man in a hug.
"It's not your fault, Brittany." He soothed her as much as she was doing for him.
"Do you think she left…a note?" Mike asked a few moments later.
"I'm not sure." Mario said, pulling away from his daughter's best friend. "Her room was disastrous. We'd have to shuffle through everything and I can't do that. Not while she's-" He looked off to where he last seen his child in hopes maybe a doctor had come back, but nothing happened.
"We'll do it for you." His head snapped around to catch Puck's eyes.
"You need to be with Santana, the doctor's probably won't let all of us in anyway. Let us help. We'll do through Santana's stuff to help you out."
"You'd do that?"
"I think we'll do anything we can to help you right now." Quinn told him smiling.
"Now, we'll wait here until you can go in a sit with San and then we'll go comb the room." Said the Jewish boy.
"Thank you, all of you."
They sat there for the next couple hours before the nurse, Amy, and another doctor came out.
"Richard," Mario breathed, jumping to his feet. "How is she?" Richard O'Conner had dark hair that waved around his ears. His grey eyes were slightly off putting, but only because of how intense they were. Richard had known the Lopez's since they moved to Lima, Ohio, eleven years ago.
"Mario, how are you holding up?" Mario said fine and asked again about his daughter. "As you know, she had severe blood loss. We have it under control, we had to give her several units of type specific, understandably."
"Of course, of course, did you have enough AB?"
"Yes, don't worry about the hospital. We stitched Santana and wrapped her, but there's something I want to ask you about." He turned to Amy, who held out a large folder, which Richard took. He retracted his hand to show Mario, and the Glee club, photos.
"Now, we're found these on Santana and they're consistent with past and present chronic abuse." Several pictures were held out, all close up, most scars Mario couldn't identify and he too could see the signs of abuse on his daughter.
"Son of a-" He growled. "It was Mia, it had to be! When I get my hands on her-"
"Calm down, you need to be calm for Santana." Amy soothed gently. "I have to call social services, you know that right?"
"Do it. Mia, that monster…Call them, this needs to be reported, sooner rather than later."
"Okay, Amy's going to take you to see her. She's not going to look like the Santana you know-"
"The image of the Santana I knew was gone when I saw her covered in her own blood. Please take me to see her."
Once the adults left, the teens drove in the dark back to the Lopez household. Walking in, they all knew what they had to do, though none of them really wanted to. They treaded up the stairs and stood at the threshold of Santana's bedroom.
"Do we really have to go back in there?" Sam asked, swallowing his rising bile at the thought. Puck gave a quick flick of his head and flipped the light switch back on. All teenagers moved into the room.
"What do we do?" Rachel asked, eying the walls again.
"Find the suicide note." Quinn told her.
"What makes you think she left one?" Mike questioned.
"She wouldn't leave us hanging." They fanned out over the room to search. It was ten minutes before Rachel got sick of all the paper on the floor and began to pick it up.
"Wait a minute…" She grabbed a fist full of papers and quickly scanned them all. "Guys! She wrote music!"
"This isn't sectionals, or regionals, or nationals. It doesn't matter." Finn said, blowing her off to lift up a stack of books.
She glared at him, then turned her attention back to the music. "Cut my life into pieces, this is my last resort, suffocation, no breathing. Don't give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding."
"What are you reading?" Puck asked, stepping next to her.
"This music she wrote. It's dated yesterday's date. I think…I think these are her suicide notes"
The kids picked up and searched for all of the music sheets they could find. Most were found under the bed. They read bits and pieces, the titles, and/or dates aloud.
"Ugly. Last Month."
"Broken Home. Five years ago."
"Tired of You. Three weeks ago."
"Love is Dead. Four months ago."
"Recover. Two weeks ago."
"Strange. Four months ago."
And so much more passed their eyes that they stopped saying them and just piled them together.
"She wrote in the vocal notes, altos, tenors, basses, sopranos. She wrote in the band, the different chords, notes, fermata's, staccato's, staffs, bar lines, time signature. It looks like a professional music sheet."
"What are you getting at Berry?" Lauren snapped.
"We should perform them-"
"No, no, hear me out. Just Glee club and Santana's Dad. We said we'd find the suicide note, well, all of these songs," she held up the papers in her hand, "are her notes." She looked around. "We could tell her story, to him and too each other. We'll start at the beginning and work our way to Last Resort. Each of us can have different songs, depending on how Santana wrote them."
It was silent for a moment, then Puck put his hand in the middle of all of them. "I'm in."
"Me too." Brittany said softly. Slowly the whole group had their hands in.
They would be playing out Santana Lopez's life through the songs she left behind.