Fated To Break

The weight of their discovery settled heavily between them, a constant presence that refused to let them breathe. The curse wasn’t just some strange, unexplainable thing, it was real. And now, it wasn’t just Santana’s rage she had to fight; it was the looming dread of what could happen if they didn’t find a way to break it.

Santana was terrified. She had always been a fighter, always the one to keep her emotions in check, to control her own destiny. But this? This was beyond her. There was nothing she could do. The violence, the urges, it wasn’t her anymore. And now, the thought that one day she might lose Brittany forever, that she might be the one to destroy the love of her life, was too much for her to bear.

Each night, they sat together, pouring over every book they could find, hunting for any clue, any thread that might offer a way out. Santana scoured her grandmother’s ancient texts, the same ones that had revealed the curse, desperate for some loophole, some forgotten ritual that could break the chains around them. Brittany, ever the optimist, held onto the hope that something, anything, could save them.

They spent hours in libraries, their fingers stained with ink as they flipped through dusty pages, searching for answers. They spoke to mystics, trying to tap into any kind of ancient knowledge, hoping that someone, anyone, knew how to lift the curse. They even resorted to trying rituals that made them both uncomfortable, things that felt like they belonged to another world, one that they weren’t equipped to understand.

But the more they searched, the more they failed. Nothing worked. The ritual they performed only made the urges stronger. The mystics they consulted only spoke in riddles, leaving them with more questions than answers. It was as though the curse was too old, too powerful to be undone.

And the more they failed, the more the reality hit home: time was running out.

In the middle of their desperate search, the moments when Santana’s anger flared, when the desire to hurt Brittany surged like a tidal wave, became harder to ignore. They were moments of pure terror, moments when Santana would lose herself in the violence that the curse demanded. And in those moments, it felt as though the very air between them thickened with fear.

But even when Santana’s eyes darkened and her fists clenched, Brittany refused to pull away. She refused to let fear dictate their every move. She would hold Santana close, pressing her body against hers, even as the storm raged inside her best friend’s mind.

“You won’t hurt me,” Brittany would whisper, her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her own chest. “I believe in you.”

In those moments, it was the only thing that kept them tethered. The only thing that stopped Santana from breaking completely. Brittany’s belief, her unwavering faith that there was still good in Santana, that she wasn’t beyond saving, was the thread they clung to.

But as much as Brittany tried to soothe Santana’s tortured soul, she knew, deep down, that belief alone wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to stop the curse, to stop the dark force that had taken hold of Santana. And as the days turned into weeks, that feeling of helplessness grew heavier.

They needed a way out. They needed more than faith.

One night, after another failed attempt at finding a solution, Brittany and Santana sat in silence, the weight of their fruitless efforts crushing them both. The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting long shadows on the walls of the apartment. Santana’s head was in her hands, her hair falling around her face in tangled waves, as if she’d given up on even trying to fix it.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Santana murmured, her voice raw and broken. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending that I’m not going to hurt you.”

Brittany reached out, her hand brushing Santana’s arm. “You’re not going to hurt me. I believe in you.”

Santana lifted her head, meeting Brittany’s gaze with eyes full of fear and regret. “But what if I do?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What if I can’t control it anymore? What if... what if I hurt you? What if I lose myself completely?”

Brittany’s heart twisted at the pain in Santana’s voice. She could see the war raging within her, the fear that had taken root so deeply inside her that it was almost impossible for her to see a way out. Brittany knew that Santana had always prided herself on her strength, on her ability to keep control, but this curse, this thing inside her, was something she couldn’t conquer alone.

And Brittany refused to let her.

“We’re not giving up,” Brittany said firmly, her voice soft but resolute. “We’re going to keep searching. We’re going to find a way out of this. You’re not going to lose me. I won’t let you.”

Santana closed her eyes, swallowing hard as the words settled between them. It was the promise of hope, of a future where they didn’t have to fear the curse. But there was still so much they didn’t know. So many unanswered questions.

Brittany squeezed Santana’s arm, her grip steady. “We’re in this together. And no matter what, I’m not going anywhere.”

Days turned into weeks, and the search for a solution continued. But as the curse tightened its grip, Santana began to fear that there was no way out. The violent urges would rise at the most unexpected times, and the darkness inside her would demand to be set free.

But Brittany kept holding on. She kept showing up, kept believing in Santana when the world felt like it was crumbling around them. And even when the temptation to give in to the curse felt unbearable, Santana would look at Brittany; and for a moment, the world would shift. The desire to hurt would recede, replaced by a flicker of the woman she loved.

But Brittany knew that belief alone wasn’t enough. They needed more than hope. They needed to break the curse. They needed to free Santana from the darkness that had taken root in her soul.

And so, they pushed forward. They kept searching, kept fighting, kept refusing to let go.