Forever (sequel to The Hostage)

4

Santana's POV
I sit down on the bed, beside Brittany. We both lie back and look up at the ceiling. We've agreed that eye contact is hard in situations like this, when we really want to talk. So we both look up, away from each other. It's then that I begin to talk.

S-"So, are you okay?"
B-"I don't know."
S-"Neither. But I think we should talk about it."
B-"Yeah, I guess. How do we do that?"
S-"I guess we could talk about our feelings, and why we felt that way?"
B-"Okay. I was scared, because I though you were going to die, and I was going to die."
S-"I felt trapped because I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to kill someone."
B-"I felt guilty because I shouldn't have brought you with me."
S-"I felt angry, because it's not fair that they did that to us. And now you're going to have more nightmares, which is worse."

Brittany is quiet, and I think I've gone too far. But then she turns to face me.
B-"Shit. You're right."

She turns away and closes her eyes. I see tears start to leak out, and I want nothing more than to hold her and tell her that it's all going to be okay. But how can I promise that?

As I'm figuring it out, the door flies open and Quinn walks in, closely followed by Tina.
Q-"Rise and fucking shine. I know you have both had a shitty morning-"
B-"A complete understatement-"
Q-"Yeah, okay, we get it. The point is, it's not going to help if you both hang around up here today, in this little room of sadness. Get up, and do something. Go somewhere, I don't know."
T-"Babe, tone it down."
Q-"Fine. But I'm serious. It doesn't help if you keep thinking about it over again. Trust me. You need to take your minds off it."
B-"Okay. We get it."
Q-"Good. And I hope for both your sakes that you've talked about some feelings, or we're gonna have a problem. Don't roll your eyes at me, Tina."
T-"I think we should leave now. Sorry."

She half drags Quinn out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her. Brittany sits up, wiping the tears off of her cheeks.

B-"They're right. I hate to admit it, but it's a good idea. We need to get out of here."
S-"Where can we go? It's not exactly a nice day."

As if to back me up, the windows rattle from a gust of wind. Brittany nods slowly, I can practically see the thoughts in her head.

B-"We could drive somewhere?"
S-"I know. You could give me a tour of Lima Heights, from your childhood. Show me the places you've been, your favourite restaurant, school."
B-"We could do that. I mean, we already went around all your places."

She goes into our closet and starts to get out clothes. We need to change out the ones we were wearing this morning, they're dirty and bloody and torn. Which is a shame, since these jeans were my one of my favourite pairs.

B-"You can shower, and I'll change and find us something to eat. Sound good?"
S-"Yeah."

I stand up, and go into Brittany's bathroom. I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and the happy feeling I had just seconds ago has gone. I look like shit. The cut on my head is worse than I thought, plus there's tiny cuts scarring my arms and chin, from where I fell into the glass. My jeans are literally cut open from the knee down on my right leg, so that Tina could stitch up my wound.

I slip them off, hissing as they pass over the stitches, and remove the rest of my clothes. I turn the shower onto the gentlest pressure, so I don't irritate the cuts, and wash myself. I do my hair as well, and twist it into a knot on top of my head as I step out the shower and dry myself.

I get dressed in the baggier blue jeans and white cropped top, with one of Britts flannels over the top. I look like a stereotypical lesbian, but it's comfy and I actually don't really care.

I dry my hair, and for once I don't resemble a lion. I brush it forward, and into a side part, to hide the cut on my temple. I slip my feet into converse, and have a look at myself in the mirror again. I look better, and I feel better as well.