Fic: Outted
Title: Outted
Author: Kyra
Disclaimer: I don’t own them; if I did I wouldn’t be writing fanfiction.
Summary: Why did Finn Hudson have to announce her private business in the middle of a crowded hallway? She knew she was a bitch, but she really didn’t think she had deserved that.
Pairings: Hint of Brittana
Spoilers: Ep 3.06 Mash Off
Warnings: MAJOR trigger warning for cutting, suicide and character death.
A/N: Please don’t kill me…
Santana sobbed as she slammed the bathroom door behind her and leaned back against it. The stupid campaign ad had aired and now everybody knew. The insults were coming from all sides at school and they just didn’t seem to stop. She’d gone from Being Head Bitch In Charge and at the top of the social pyramid (despite being in Glee club) to bottom of the food chain in the span of a thirty second clip on TV. And to make matters worse, when she’d gotten home from school, both of her parents had already been home. The only thing they had said to her was a simple ‘is it true?’ from her mother. She had slowly nodded her head and her parents had just started at her for a moment before nodding and turning away from her, her father grabbing his keys as they both walked out of the house and away from her.
Why? Why did Finn Hudson have to announce her private business in the middle of a crowded hallway? She knew she was a bitch, but she really didn’t think she deserved to be forcibly outted like that. Sure, the whole school had already known, but they hadn’t known. And now…now everyone knew. Her parents couldn’t even look at her and she was being insulted at every turn. She’d ended up carrying all of her books to each of her classes after she’d gone to switch out her books between first and second period only to find her locker had been vandalized, ‘DYKE’ scrawled across it in a vivid red.
Brittany had been the only bright spot in her day, but even Brittany couldn’t block out or make her forget the words and looks of the other students. The rest of the Glee club had tried to be supportive but mostly just managed to fail spectacularly and look awkward. The only one who had managed to be of any help was Kurt, who had been with her when she saw her locker and had simply taken her hand, giving it a squeeze of support. Finn had tried to apologize all day, looking guilty and pathetic, but Santana had refused to hear it. This wasn’t something that could just be apologized for and forgiven.
Pushing off the door, Santana stalked over to the sink, bracing her hands on it as she looked at herself in the mirror above it and tried to control her sobs. She stared at herself for a moment before giving up and slamming her forearms and the sides of her fists into the mirror with a scream. She flinched slightly as she pulled her arms away, pieces of glass from the mirror sticking in her arms. Looking down, she stared at the blood running down her arms in a sort of absent fascination. Slowly picking the glass out of her arm, she dropped the pieces into the sink and watched as the blood started flowing faster. Once all the glass was gone, she stared at the bloody mess that was her arms for a moment before slowly dragging her gaze back up to what was left of the mirror, screaming and hitting it again. And again. And again.
Her vision swam and the world tilted and she stumbled, falling against the wall and sliding down until she was slumped between the bathtub and the sink as she started sobbing once more. She got rid of the glass in her arms, dropping it next to her, before taking the largest piece and slashing at the few patches of unmarred skin on her arms as scenes from the day flashed through her mind. Her locker. The rude gestures some of her classmates had made at her. The sound of the names she had been called. When the mirror shard was so slick with her blood that shoe could barely keep hold of it, she slowly dragged it over first one wrist then the other. Dropping the reflective glass to the floor, Santana leaned her head against the wall, tears still streaming down her face as her eyes drifted closed. Her sobs slowed as her breathing did and she felt a brief flash of regret as Brittany’s face flashed through her mind. Her arms were feeling heavy and didn’t seem to want to listen to her as she lifted them, dipping her fingers in the blood covering her before touching them to the wall carefully and deliberately.
When her parents finally came home that night, they didn’t even bother to look in on her. They had no idea that anything was wrong until her mother came into Santana’s bathroom the next morning looking for some mascara to use and found her daughter slumped on bathroom floor, blood covering her and all over the floor. And on the wall next to her, like a macabre finger painting, were seven simple words.
I’m so sorry, Britt. I love you.
Please don’t kill me…
~ Kyra