Victim (Glee)

14. Numbers

For me, nothing mattered anymore. I didn't feel like caring, I didn't feel like pretending I cared either. I just went with the flow, looked happy sometimes and talked to people I slowly started to push away. I stared at myself for a long time before putting my jeans on. I stared down at my thighs, I saw the fresh marks of scars. Every touch I brushed against them made my fingertips a little red and it felt like burns on my skin. I closed my eyes and pulled up the jeans, I bit my lip to help myself against the pain of my pants rubbing against the new scars. I chose to place them where they weren't visible. On my thighs, no one would see them. My cheerleading skirt was long enough to cover them up in school.

"Honey, are you done?" I heard my dad knock on my door.

"Be out in a second." I said and looked at myself in the mirror again.

"Alright, we're leaving" my dad told my mother and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. 

"Why isn't mom taking me to my appointment?" I asked.

"What's so wrong with me wanting to take you?," he said as he closed the door behind him "I miss spending time with my daughter, you're still my little angel even though you've grown up too fast" he smiled and we walked into the car. I just smiled back.

We drove a while until we reached the clinic. I was going to get my eyes tested, for some reason, my mother woke up one day and said she booked a appointment to me. I asked her why and she said it's because both her parents had glasses, and so does she. She wanted me to get checked before it was too late.

"Santana Lopez?" the old lady came out.

"Here" I said and walked over to her. My dad was waiting in the waiting room. 

"Doctor Willis is ready to see you" she said and lead me to the room. I mean, obviously, I knew that. Isn't that why the old thing called me?

"Hello" she smiled and shook my hand. "Sit down right there and we'll get started" he smiled.

He used his tools and things to see my eyes. He put an eyepatch on my right eye and asked me to read something that was hanging on the door. I read all of it perfectly, he put the patch on my left eye now and I did the same thing again. Perfectly. I looked up at him and waited for him to finish writing. This man was freakishly tall. 

"How old are you?" he asked me.

"Seventeen" I answered. He wrote it down.

"Great, Santana. You have no problems with your eyes. No worries" he smiled again, he smiled a lot. He patted my back. 

****

Saturdays used to be so much fun before I became like this again. I always had plans, I was never bored. Everything changed so much. I pictured myself going out, to the movies, or just be outside. The image didn't fit my profile right now. The weather was becoming really beautiful. The sun creeped more and more for everyday that came. We reached the end of May and things started to lighten outside - it was only me who became darker. I woke up in the morning and I felt like something was eating me up from the inside. I tried to twitch and turn, I tried to shake it off. It just got worse. Nothing helped. 

"Santana.. We are going to see abuela," my mother said as she carefully opened the door and walked in on me sitting silently and empty on my bed "please, come with us." 

"Mom, she hates me. Why would she allow me to even enter her house? Don't you remember what she told me?" 

I was so annoyed that my grandma lived in New York. I hoped she would stay in Portales, I didn't need another person to think about here too. But, to be fair, she did move here almost one year before me and my parents. I can't remember why she did it - I don't care either.