Work Header


Chapter Text

Santana didn’t show up to school the day after it happened, hell, she didn’t plan on going back at all. Not after what happened.

It started out so innocently, Finn wanted to lose his V card, she was the local slut right? Right?


The truth is, she only ever had sex with Brittany. She’s always known she was gay, she was just terrified of her extremely religious parents finding out.

Apart from Brittany, Puck was the only other person who knew she was gay. He was her best friend, ever since they were in diapers. She drunkenly came out one night in floods of tears, and he promised to keep it a secret.

He went a bit overboard on describing their “sexual” encounters, but Santana didn’t care. Hell, other guys she had barely said hi to joined in on it too. She should’ve stopped it, but she let it happen.

Finn approached her one day, asking her to have sex with him. Santana had laughed, before realizing how serious he was. He said he wanted to be good at it for Rachel.

Listen, outwardly the Latina has admitted her disdain for the girl, but that doesn’t mean she wants to aid her boyfriend in the weirdest form of cheating she’s heard.

She said no. He wasn’t happy.

He became desperate, following her through the busy school hall trying to explain why she should let him.

“I thought sluts don’t know how to say no.”


She should have slapped him, made a scene and scared him off. She didn’t.

She lost track of him after that, and went about her school day. She had a free period near the end of the day, deciding to empty out her dirty gym clothes from the locker room to bring home.

It was empty, no one had gym at this time. She had her locker open, filling her gym bag with her clothes when he slams the locker door into her face.

It cut the top of her eyebrow, she let out a painful yelp before being grabbed tightly around her wrist, throwing her down onto the bench opposite the lockers. Her left arm was trapped between her stomach and the bench, while her other arm was still being held tightly behind her back.

She started to scream, but he slammed her head down into the bench, momentarily stunning her as he shoves her dirty socks into her mouth.

Then he rapes her.

Her throat was raw from trying to scream to no avail. When he was done, he shoved her off of the bench. She rolled onto her back, spitting out the socks and staring up at him.


“You should’ve said yes.”


She goes to scream again and he stomps down hard on her stomach. She sputters and curls in on her self, all while he watches with no emotion.

“They’ll never believe a slut like you.”


She pulled herself up from the floor eventually, pain soaring through her. She changed into her gym clothes while sobbing, needing to cover her now battered body.

She’s aware her face is covered in blood from the cut on her forehead, and she turns to look at the bench.

There’s blood on the wall, bench and floor below.

Santana grabs her gym bags and runs, she runs until she’s out of the building and into the parking lot. When she gets to the car she bursts out into heavy sobs. She doesn’t know what to do.

After debating in her head, she decides to drive to the ER. While there the doctors try to prod as gently as they could, but Santana refused to let them examine her or perform a rape kit. She didn’t even leave her name with them.

She did however, give them her gym back full of the clothes she was wearing. When the nurses had their backs turned, she fled.


It’s been days, and Santana has barely been able to get herself out of bed. No one will believe her, so what’s the point?

What’s the point in anything?