Sure, Santana. You see my parents weren't home when a psycho tried to break into my house and eat me. I barely managed to escape out my bedroom window. I hid in my neighbor's attic until I thought I might starve to death and then ended up hooking up with a bunch of shady people who wanted to take a boat out to some island. When I didn't like their ideas on resorting to cannibalism for a food source I jumped out of the boat and drowned. Turns out I'm some mythical supernatural creature who can make anyone do whatever I want just by singing to them. Oh, and I have wings which help when you need to fly away from zombies.
Quinn only gave Santana a half smile but there was no happiness in it. She wouldn't say any of that aloud. It was still too insane for Quinn to even handle. She hated being a freak even if it had been the thing to save her life. She was so used to being little miss perfect. Teen pregnancy aside, Quinn was the model student at McKinley High. Perfect blonde cheerleader with her killer grade point average that had gotten her into Yale. There was no room for wings in that story.
"Just trying to survive. Like everyone else," Quinn said instead. She wasn't purposefully trying to be an enigma but she had always been on the colder side of things. Now was no exception. With all of the horrible things that had happened to her she kept people at an even greater distance than she might have otherwise. But Santana had that Mexican third eye or whatever she wanted to call it. They had known each other too long and Santana usually knew how to cut through all of Quinn's bullshit.
But this wasn't Cheerios, it wasn't Glee Club. They weren't fighting over Puck anymore. This was real life and it was harsh. She had to imagine Santana had her own experiences that had shaped and changed her over the last couple of years since they had seen each other last.