All Alone

Chapter Nineteen

*TRIGGER WARNING*
*Santana's coma*

*Age five*

"Mommy where does daddy go?"

Santana's mother let out a loud huff. "To work, Santana! What do you think? Stupido..." She muttered.

"Well... Why is he barely home? I want him to play dress up with me."

"You think he wants to play dress up with you, kid?" Mrs. Lopez scoffed.

The Latina looked down, ashamed and whispered, "Well you don't do it..."

"What was that?"

"Nothing..."

"You ungrateful bitch! I know what you said!" The woman screeched.

Santana cowered. "I'm sorry mommy."

"Get out!" She screeched and ushered Santana out of the house. "Go "play" and come back when you learn respect!"

The child's eyes watered. "But mommy it's getting dark and it's cold."

"Deal with it! I have to deal with you!"

For the first time Santana felt her mommy didn't love her at all.

*Age Six*

"Abuela!" Santana cheered, running into the old woman's arms.

"Oh my Santanita!" She cried happily, spinning her granddaughter around in a little circle.

The little girl laughed. Her mommy was always busy or angry with her and on the rare occasion that her dad was home, he was gruff and tired. So this was the only time she was happy.

"Can we make cookies today?"

"Of course, cariña! Snickerdoodle?"

"Obviously, Abuela!"

The old woman grinned at her granddaughter.

Suddenly the door busted open and Santana's mother rushed through. "Santana you're coming home with me!"

"But mommy..."

"Don't try that with me!" Mrs. Lopez snapped. "I've had a bad day and I need you to mix my drinks! Come! NOW!"

The little girl put her head down and shuffled after her mother, wondering what was wrong with her that made her mommy not love her.

For the first time Santana was angry at her mother.

*Age seven*

"But I can't draw my mommy and daddy." Santana insisted.

"Why not?" The teacher asked in the most patient voice she could muster.

"You said to draw someone who loves you..."

"Yes, and?"

"My mommy and daddy don't love me."

The teacher chuckled. "Don't be silly, of course they do. Now draw your picture." Then she stood and walked back to her desk.

Santana furrowed her brow. She was telling the truth. Her parents didn't love her and she wanted to do the work right.

So she invented a an imaginary friend who loves her.

The friend was taller than her, but her age. She had blonde hair and said silly things that made Santana laugh. She loved her. And Santana loved her back.

A few minutes passed. The teacher walked by again and scolded Santana.

The Latina couldn't believe everyone hated her. At least Susan didn't.