Closer to the Fire

and down the rabbit hole, she goes

Closer to the Fire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,013

Chapter Warnings: PTSD, Suicide, Drug Abuse

Pairing: Grace/Chato Santana

Summary: Grace Santana knew what she was getting into when she first laid eyes on the tattooed man they called El Diablo. Temptation's hard to resist and after all, who can say they fell in love with and married the Devil?

ii.

GRACE

She doesn't remember how she got here.

Here she is in the shower, cold water running down her back, with no memory of how or why she ended up in here, covered in mud or ash or whatever the hell it is all over her body. Her body seems to be on autopilot and her mind seemingly stuffed with cotton balls, a faint ringing in her ears. Her vision warps as she blinks slowly, struggling to make sense of what's happening to her. She imagines her wound opening once again, blood pouring in rivers down her breasts and begins to panic.

"It's not real, it's not real," she chants over and over. She shuts her eyes and counts to ten, reminding herself to breathe.

It's okay, Grace.

Chato's voice startles her and she whips her head to look behind her to make sure he isn't there and he isn't. She swears it sounded like he was just behind her and oh God, she's going crazy. She's crazy.

She looks down and sees nothing on her body, the water underneath her feet clear as day; her fingers gripping her hair as she presses her hands against her head.

"It's okay . . . It's okay."

The faint of smoke lingers in the air and she wonders otherwise.

She wakes screaming, hands reaching for her throat, scrambling in a panic to escape the smothering protection of her blankets, twisting and turning, hitting the hard floor below with a thump. She pants, breathing hard as she presses herself against the wall, trying to calm herself down, rocking back and forth. Her hand fumbles for the prescription bottle on her nightstand and she swallows, gulping down the rest of her water desperately.

Her shaking subsides after a moment, her thumb pressed against her lips, tears running down her cheeks and all she wants is for the pain, the hallucinations to stop. A voice from upstairs, downstairs -she doesn't know where- screams for her to "shut the fuck up" and "I'm trying to sleep here, bitch!"

She's about to issue an apology to the voice when she's interrupted by the sound of her alarm clock clicking on, tuning into the current radio station, announcing her wake-up call for the day.

But you see
I'm not here for your entertainment
You don't really want to mess with me tonight
Just stop and take a second
I was fine before you walked into my life
Cause you know it's over
Before it began-

It takes a moment longer than usual to move, her movements stilted and somewhat choppy, shutting the alarm clock off and opening her bedroom curtain. Bright sunlight streams in from behind the blinds, signaling a much later start of the day than she's originally thinks it is. She glances at the clock, the time sinking into her brain and snaps to reality, rushing to grab her clothes.

She hadn't meant to sleep in the remainder of the afternoon, rushing to brush her hair and searching for her car keys, the Inferno flyer in her hand. It takes her several twists and turns and a five minute session trying to find a decent parking spot before she finds the club. It looks nothing special on the outside, but she knows appearances can be deceiving. The bouncer at the front door eyes her up and down when she approaches, only letting her inside when she explains she has an appointment with the manager.