Curse Unseen
The argument had been stupid. Petty. One of those fights that seemed so insignificant in the moment, but the fallout lingered like smoke in a room. It had started with a disagreement over a song; a disagreement that escalated quickly, as these things often did between them.
Santana had snapped. Words were thrown, barbed and sharp, with no thought for the consequences. She had stormed out of Brittany’s apartment in a haze of anger, the door slamming behind her with a finality that echoed in the silence left behind. But the anger didn’t stop once she was outside. It kept growing inside her, feeding on itself, until it felt like something deep and ugly was scratching at her insides, trying to break free.
It wasn’t the kind of anger she was used to. No, this was something different. Something darker. Her chest tightened, the pressure building with every step she took, the streetlights casting harsh shadows on the sidewalk as she walked away from Brittany’s place.
It wasn’t until she reached her apartment that it hit her, something was wrong. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt... possessed. It was as though her body wasn’t entirely her own anymore. Her thoughts weren’t her own. It was as though something was inside her, pulling the strings. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was no longer in control.
She lay awake in bed, the sheets tangled around her legs, but sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind raced with fragmented thoughts, all consumed by the argument. But as the hours stretched on, something else began to take hold.
A whisper.
At first, Santana thought it was just a product of her mind spinning out of control. Stress. Exhaustion. The anger still simmering just beneath her skin. But the voice came again, louder this time. It wasn’t a voice she recognised, not exactly. It was cold and foreign, but it felt all too familiar.
“Take her down.”
Santana shot up in bed, her heart hammering in her chest. She glanced around her darkened room, expecting to see someone standing there; someone who had whispered those words. But the room was empty.
She lay back down, trying to calm her racing thoughts. But the voice lingered.
“She doesn’t deserve you. Take her down.”
Santana’s breath hitched, her chest tightening even more. She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block it out, but the voice persisted, echoing in her mind like a drumbeat. It was growing louder.
“She’ll hurt you. You know she will. Take her down before she does.”
Sleep didn’t come that night. The voice was relentless. But eventually, exhaustion claimed her, and she drifted into an uneasy slumber, only to wake the next morning with a gnawing sense of dread deep in her stomach.
The voice was still there. Quiet, but there. Watching.
The change in Santana didn’t go unnoticed by Brittany.
At first, it was subtle. Santana’s usual sharp wit was quieter now, her smiles more forced. The biting sarcasm they used to share in good fun had dulled, replaced by a coldness that made Brittany’s chest ache. She tried to ignore it, tried to pass it off as nothing more than a phase, maybe the result of stress from their work, or the tension from their recent argument.
But as the days wore on, the distance between them grew. Santana became more withdrawn, more irritable. The teasing jokes that used to flow so easily between them were replaced by an unsettling silence. And every time Brittany laughed, every time she tried to lighten the mood, Santana’s eyes would flash with something unfamiliar, something dark. There was a coldness in her gaze that sent a shiver down Brittany’s spine.
It wasn’t just the silence. It was the way Santana would watch her, as if waiting for something. Waiting for the right moment to snap.
Brittany tried to brush it off at first, thinking maybe she was just overthinking things. But when Santana snapped at her over something as small as an offhand comment about their latest song, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. There was something wrong.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Santana’s voice had been low, dangerously quiet. The words were like ice, cutting through the air between them. “Maybe you should just keep your opinions to yourself for once.”
Brittany had been taken aback. Santana’s anger, her frustration, it was all so much. It was never this extreme before. She couldn’t recall a time when Santana had been so... distant. So cold.
“Look, I’m just trying to help,” Brittany said, trying to keep her voice calm, trying to break through whatever wall Santana had put up.
But Santana just glared at her, and it hit Brittany like a punch to the gut; the look in her eyes wasn’t just irritation. It was something else. Something primal.
“I don’t need your help,” Santana snapped, turning away quickly as if she couldn’t bear to face Brittany for another second.
Brittany felt her chest tighten, a mix of confusion and hurt swelling inside her. She couldn’t figure out what was happening, couldn’t make sense of the change in Santana. She wanted to reach out, to pull Santana back from whatever darkness was pulling her under, but she didn’t know how.
And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying part.
The days that followed were a blur. Santana’s behaviour became more erratic, more unpredictable. She would go from quiet and distant to suddenly snapping at the smallest things, leaving Brittany with a pit in her stomach every time they crossed paths. She had no idea what had happened to the woman she once knew.
But what scared her the most was that something was changing in Santana. Something that wasn’t just about the fight. Something bigger. Something darker.
Santana didn’t know how to fight it. The voice had become louder. Stronger. It consumed her thoughts, leaving no room for anything else. And it told her to hurt Brittany. To make her suffer before she could hurt Santana.
She couldn’t escape it. It was too powerful. It was too real.
And with every passing day, she felt herself slipping further away from the person she used to be; further away from Brittany. The bond they shared, once so strong and clear, now felt like a distant memory.
But even in the midst of this chaos, there was still a part of Santana that screamed to stop; to push back against the darkness that had taken root inside her. She didn’t want to hurt Brittany. She couldn’t. But the more she tried to fight it, the louder the voice became. And in those moments, it felt like there was no way out.