"Who do you think you are, running 'round leaving scars?"

I remove my sweater, throw it on the grass, and sit on it. It's already summer, and I've been wearing the sweater all day. I never felt warm, though. All I had to do was think about Santana and everything she's done to me to make myself shiver.

I should've listened to everyone. I should've believed my friends when they told me Santana was, and, it turns out, still is, nothing but trouble. I should've believed them when they told me Santana would only break my heart.

Could I blame myself, though? All I ever wanted was to be loved, and everyone who should have granted my only wish denied that to me. My real parents left me to be adopted, my foster parents were, and still are, never around, every single guy I have been with treated me like shit. I thought nobody would ever love me until here she comes, my knight in shining Cheerio uniform.

She was the sweetest person I've ever known. She would take me out on dates, stay beside me as often as possible, and make me melt whenever we kiss. I never thought there'd ever come a day when she would confess to me that she cheated.

"I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry, Q. I love you. Please don't leave me like this."

"What the hell am I supposed to do, Santana? You fucking promised!"

"I was drunk, okay? I didn't know what I was doing! I didn't mean to! You know I would never hurt you! I really—"

"Just fuck off, Santana. We're done."

I never thought she'd ever hurt me. I never thought she'd ever make me cry myself to sleep every night. I never thought she'd be the reason why I'll never trust any person ever again. I never thought she'd ever give me a reason to have to wear long-sleeved clothes every single day.

If only I knew then that she'd break her promise about loving me forever. If only I knew then that she'd never prove me wrong, that she'd be a proof that no one could ever love me truly.

"Q?" I flinch at the sound of the familiar voice of a devil.

"Leave me alone, Santana."

Of course, she doesn't leave and sits beside me instead.

I turn to face her to give her a cold glare, but I see her eyeing my lower left arm.

"You're cutting yourself?"

"I've been through a lot worse," I mutter as I stand up, grab my sweater, and start running away.

I barely hear her yell, "I'm still sorry." Instead, all I hear is a voice filled with guilt. Like how I barely saw the tears in her eyes when she told me she cheated, and, instead, all I saw was red. Like how I barely minded everything she has done to try and get me back, and, instead, I only thought about how I could possibly get over her.

I'd choose hurting because of cuts from a razor blade than hurting because of Santana any day.

"Don't come back for me. Don't come back at all."

I just love how "running 'round leaving scars" had a literal meaning in this story. XD