No words could convey all of this but they aren’t needed. All that’s important is us, and the rest of the world melts into the background. Nothing else matters. I am safe with her.
I still can’t sleep. Dani went back to sleep ages ago. She’s curled up against me, her head tucked under my neck. Warm breath caresses my skin. Thoughts keep whipping around my head like a tornado. Blonde hair moves slightly against me and I raise my hand running fingers through her hair softly. Warm air brushes against my collarbone in a soft sigh.
I’m so tired. All the noise in my head is keeping me awake though. I know I should be comfortable; I should be able to sleep better than I have in weeks. But if she wakes up and I’m asleep? Whatever is going through her head scares me slightly but I need to protect her, to keep her safe. Even if I’m keeping her safe from whatever is going on inside of her. I feel useless, like I can’t possibly understand what’s going on. How can I help her if I’ve never gone through this myself?
I can’t believe this happened. It feels like I let this happen. Not only was it my fault, well technically Brittany’s but I should have explained this to her before. We didn’t talk enough; we fell into this relationship so quickly that we never had those conversations, those conversations that keep you up until 5am. Those conversations where you get to know that person more than any other person knows them. In those moments you learn about every small part of them, even their demons but I guess I had been deluding myself into thinking that her only issues were with anxiety.
Today she looked beautiful, tragically so. It broke my heart, how she looked at me. Like she was scared I was going to hit her. Like she was scared I would blame her, yell at her. I couldn’t stand that look above all else. I was shocked. Obviously. But I could never have walked out. Call it a morbid need to at least know why or call it a selfless decision. Whatever. I don’t care what it is. All I know is that I wouldn’t have ever been able to stand myself if I had walked away. She’s broken and I feel the need to fix her, to protect her from ever breaking like that again. Like a broken vase that’s been glued back together, the cracks left don’t affect the beauty. She’s still Dani, she’s still the girl I fell for completely. This doesn’t change anything.
Her scars are a part of her, they always will be. But I need to know what broke her to this point. I don’t believe that her story is all that happy. I run my finger along her cheek. Softly I pick up her wrist and slowly pull it closer to me. I don’t want to wake her. The cuts are older on this arm, an array of red tones. I feel the familiar sting of tears in the corners of my eyes as I realise some of the scars must be years old. I pull her arm closer to me and press my lips to the cut closest to her hand, I slowly and precisely kiss every scar. Moving slowly down her arm and starting to copy my movements on her other arm. Tears fill the bottom of my eyes as my lips press against the newest cuts. Reaching the end of her arm I whisper against her arm.
“I love you, so much.”
A tear starts to run down my cheek and her hand wipes it away. Opening my eyes I see a familiar pair of brown eyes looking up at me. Her mouth is slightly open as she meets my eyes.
“I love you too Santana.”
Ok so I have no idea about how this idea is working out right now. It could be going completely shit, I’m open to constructive criticism. I’m sorry if the story is moving slowly, I’ve hit some writing block with the plot so if anyone has any ideas feel free to help me out. Otherwise sorry for how long it’s taking me to get chapters up.
The word relationship almost makes me wince. Santana stays quiet, I swallow and struggle to work the words out.
“I came to New York and I met her after a couple of months of really struggling, I was alone and poor. I was working two jobs for rent and food and I had no friends. It was such a low point in my life, when I had spare time I would just lie in bed and think about how I wanted to die.” Her eyes lift instantly and look up at me, scared.
“I don’t think I could have ever done it, but I didn’t want to be living that way for much longer. I had given up when I met her. Becca saved me I guess, it was like a complete dream, this movie ending but it wasn’t what I thought it would be you know?” She nods slightly, her dark brown eyes looking at me.
“She wasn’t who I thought she was but by the time I found that out we were living together and I was in too deep. It took a long time for me to leave her. But that’s when I started cutting. I would fuck up in some way and she would hit me or whatever. I would cut myself because I thought I deserved punishment-” I exhale slowly.
“-I thought I needed punishing because I fucked up and also because I always let her hurt me. I was getting lower and lower but I stayed because I was scared, I stayed because I thought in her own sick and twisted way that she loved me like I loved her but I had no idea what the fuck love was. You don’t do that shit to someone you love and it took her cheating for me to realise she was not a good person. Something in me woke up and I walked away. I stopped cutting and told myself I wouldn’t be that weak again.”
Santana is looking up at me; the look in her eyes is something I haven’t seen before. It’s not pity, it’s not fear or disgust. Its love and care and everything I’ve been missing for so long, tears run down her tanned cheeks slowly and she chokes out the words “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would have triggered you, I didn’t know…I should have told you about Brittany, please can you forgive me Dani? I will never ever hurt you like she did.”
My eyes sting and hot tears drip down my face. “It wasn’t your fault, you have no need to apologise Santana.”
She pushes the box aside and pulls me into her arms, my head buries into her shoulder as I can’t hold back from crying now. Eventually her voice shatters the timeless embrace, the tears now dried on my face but her arms still tightly around me. “Why have you kept this stuff?”
“It’s all I have left of my life, as much as I would like to forget what else do I have?”
“You have me.” She reaches out and pulls the box back, taking the photos delicately from my hands and picking up a blade from the box with an obvious unfamiliarity with it. Taking one of the photos from the later years, a summer that I spent wearing sweaters. She slowly slices the blade through the centre of the photo.
“Try it.” It sounds like a command but she’s actually asking me. I pick up another photo, I hate this one with a vengeance. I look so happy and the mask I had to wear is evident now, it makes me sick. The blade feels normal in my hand but I’m wary of this. Digging the sharp edge through the thick paper is like a relief. It actually feels good. It’s like cutting away baggage, I know this will never rid me of memories but not holding on to these feels amazing now. Destroying the bad memories is something I haven’t been able to do before but I really like it.
Santana sits with me while I slice through every bad memory; she indulges me in letting me cut every few strands connecting me to my past. It feels like a fresh start, I’m ready for this and I never thought I’d have this chance again.