Santana didn’t know how many minutes had gone by, she didn’t know how many times the big hand had hit the twelve on the clock and at some point after they’d been dismissed home from the hospital she had just stopped caring. About anything. They’d run tests and asked questions toward Rachel and all the time Santana had just sat there helplessly in the background, the image of blood imprinted in her mind. Then they were given the answer they already knew was coming: their baby was gone and although Santana had already known, a small part of her had kept lying just so she could keep the hope alive. Nothing was going to come of this though and Santana had made sure not to let go of Rachel once on their way home. Evening had already drawn in before they’d deemed Rachel safe to leave, confident the blood had long since stopped flowing. They’d offered soft words of sorry but Santana hated all of them.
Now she was sat at the foot of their bed, dressed down in a pair of sweatpants and a university of Louisville t-shirt, just staring at her hand. She had stripped the covers and sheets before she’d even let Rachel enter the bedroom and had swiftly replaced them with fresh, crisp ones. The dirty ones were bundled inside three bags and Santana wanted to burn them but that wouldn’t be good for their fire plan so she dumped them, turning her back on them as fast as possible. And now she was here, completely lost but desperate for her girlfriend’s affection. They needed to talk about this but the pain would be so raw....she couldn’t force that upon Rachel. Shakily she pinched the top of her nose and shook her head. She was exhausted but she wouldn’t sleep tonight, the was the only thing she knew was real truth.
