Awakened.

There is a part I can’t tell
about the dark I know well

Santana Lopez wasn’t afraid of many things. She wasn’t afraid of catty girls, and she wasn’t afraid of rude boys, and she wasn’t afraid of getting into a fistfight, but Santana was afraid of the dark. It might have seemed childish and silly to anyone who she might have told – not that she would have ever told anyone – but Santana had her reasons. She kept the secret not only because it would ruin her reputation if people found out, but she would have to explain why she was afraid of the dark, which was so much worse.

You say, “Time for bed now child,”
Mom just smiles that smile
Just like she never saw me
Just like she never saw me

“Bedtime, Santana.” The two simple words had been a source of sweaty palms and racing hearts for the Latina girl since she was fourteen. Whenever her father spoke them – or rather, slurred them – she knew something was about to happen. She would look at her mother for support, but Mrs. Lopez was a quiet and timid woman, and often smiled like nothing was wrong, and looked away from her daughter, leaving her to fend for herself.

So, I leave, wanting to hide
Knowing deep inside
You are coming to me
You are coming to me

Santana would get up reluctantly, going into her bedroom and getting into her pajamas, crawling into her bed with feelings of dread, burying her face in her pillows and hoping that maybe tonight would be different, that maybe tonight she would be alone. It wouldn’t be, she knew that in the back of her mind. It hadn’t been that way when she was fourteen, or fifteen, and not now that she was sixteen, either.

You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight
And then you hold me and you whisper,
“Child, the Lord won’t mind.
It’s just you and me.
Child, you’re a beauty

“Santana? Are you asleep, sweetheart?” Her father’s voice came from the doorway, and she knew it was useless to lie. It always had been.

“Not yet.” She mumbled weakly, not looking up from her pillow. She felt the bed shift when he took a seat on the edge, and she closed her eyes tightly. She moved all her feelings to her head. It was much easier to bear when she was in her head, and not in her body.

“Just a goodnight kiss, Santana, my nina linda. Come on, turn around.” He reached around, his arm slipping over her waist and turning her around. Her eyes opened but stared dully over his head, knowing what was coming next. He slipped under the covers with her and his other arm found its way around her waist, sliding lower until it rested on her upper thighs.

“God, it’s good – the lovin’ – ain’t it good tonight?
You ain’t seen nothing yet – gonna treat you right.
It’s just you and me
Child you’re a beauty.”

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’ll treat you good, Santana.” His breath reeked of alcohol, and it took everything in Santana’s power not to wrinkle her nose. It only got worse when she made him upset. His hands began moving as he started to murmur, “Pretty child, my pretty child.” Santana closed her eyes, slipping away into other thoughts, trying to forget what it was like to feel.

The next day, Mr. Schuester asked them to prepare a song from a musical that they could consider for an opening solo.

“I expect one from each and every one of you. Got it?” Everyone nodded, most of them mumbling something about how it wouldn’t matter because Rachel would get the lead anyway. Santana grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Santana! I’d like to let you know about a song that I think would be perfect for your vocal range.” Santana glanced over at Rachel, her gaze nothing short of scathing.

“I don’t want your help, Stubbles.” Rachel merely smiled, causing Santana to roll her eyes.

“Just take a look at the song.” Rachel said, shoving a piece of sheet music into Santana’s hand before skipping off with Finnocene. Santana glanced down at the paper. She hadn’t meant to read the words, really she just was going to throw it away, but something caught her eye. Perhaps Man-Hands is on to something. She thought, putting the sheet music into her bag instead of the trash.

A few days later, Mr. Schuester asked to see some of the solos. Unsurprisingly, Rachel’s hand was first in the air, but Mr. Schuester called on a more surprising volunteer.

“Santana?” The Latina stood up, smoothing her Cheerios skirt before walking to the front of the room. She had already let the band know what song she would be singing, and they struck up the first chords at soon as she glared at them. Santana ignored Rachel’s proud smile, and closed her eyes, starting to sing. She got through the first half of the song easily, singing loud and clear, hitting every note perfectly. She could tell that they were surprised, because really who would have ever thought Santana Lopez would ever sing alone and be good? There were no problems until she got to the second half.

I don’t scream, though I know it’s wrong, I just play along, I lie there and breathe, lie there and breathe, Santana sang. As the words came out of her mouth, she got the uncanny feeling of her father’s hands, moving over her body. She shut her eyes tightly, trying to get rid of the feeling, but closing her eyes only made it worse.

I wanna be strong, I want the world to find out, that you’re dreamin’ on me, me and my “beauty”, me and my “beauty”, she continued to sing, but her voice began to tremble and she got that awful burning sensation in her eyes.

“I can’t do this.” She muttered, turning on her heel and storming out of the room. She wiped her eyes angrily with the back of her hand, ashamed that she had started to cry. She stalked down the hallway, ignoring the looks from stragglers who were still at school, bursting into the bathroom. She walked into the nearest empty stall and sank onto the closed toilet lid, leaning her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

She heard someone walk into the bathroom and she quickly wiped away the few tears that had fallen onto her cheeks, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. She was fully prepared to glare at whoever it was that was about to open the stall door, but she almost broke down again when the door opened.

“Santana, why didn’t you tell me?” Brittany asked softly, walking into the stall and wrapping her arms around her friend. Santana felt a moment’s hesitation before relaxing into her best friend’s arms, knowing there was no point in denying it. Brittany may have been slow, but she was perceptive. There was no use lying to her.

“I don’t know, B.” She said weakly, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder. Brittany rubbed her back soothingly, kissing the top of her head.

“You should come with me, S. You can live in my house.” She said brightly, smiling widely as if it was the obvious answer and she should have thought of it earlier. Santana looked at her friend, examining her face for any sign of insincerity. Honesty was written all over the blonde’s face as she waited for her best friend’s reply. Santana gave her a tear-filled smile, throwing her arms around her tightly.

“I love you, B.”

“I love you too, S!” Brittany chirped, happy to see Santana somewhat feeling better. Santana smiled into her shoulder, her eyes closing with relief. It would end soon. She would no longer be afraid of the dark or her father.

“I really love you, Brittany.” She mumbled, exhaling. “You’re saving my life.”

“I know, S. I really love you, too.”