Rated M for a reason, guys. This chapter isn't graphic, but in the future, the story will get that way. Its deals with rape, so if you're not into reading things like that, skip it.

A/N - I have like no business starting another story right now, but this plot bunny (and another) won't leave me! ...I'm very nervous to post it. I hope that you like it, and if you don't.. I'm sorry :( I just haven't seen any Quick fics on this topic, and I found it interesting.

"There are things that are known, and things that are unknown.
And in between, there are doors." – William Blake

When she comes to, Quinn knows three things:

One, it's dark. So dark, that for a moment, she wonders if she's gone blind. The small light peeking in from under the closest door tells her that she hasn't. It's just dark.

Two, she's alone. Where before, she could hear and feel him breathing, she can't now. There is complete silence, and for that, she is both thankful and terrified.

Three, she's in pain. Breathing makes her want to die; her left shoulder hurts so badly, it's immobile and her right leg feels as if it's on fire. There's a dull, throbbing pain (that's likely only dull because the rest of her hurts so much worse) along the left side and to the back of her head.

She forces herself not to think about the pain between her legs. If she thinks about it, she's going to have a breakdown and a breakdown is not what she needs. What she needs is to get out of here. Now.

Pulling herself into a standing position takes all of the strength she has left, and that isn't much at this point.

She's unable to put any pressure on her right leg (doing so almost makes her scream), so she's forced to lean heavily against the closest wall. Scanning the darkened room with her eyes, Quinn spots her backpack lying a few yards away – where he had thrown it – by the locker room showers. Knowing that she needs her phone and that she's unable to walk there, Quinn carefully drops down to her knees and crawls across the floor to her bag, whimpering the entire way.

Making sure to keep quiet, afraid of him returning, and knowing that she'll never make it home on her own, she searches the contents of her bag and grabs her cell phone in a hurry.

She immediately dials 9-1-1, not wanting to talk herself out of it, and impatiently waits for an answer.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency," finally rings out over the phone, and Quinn finds herself sighing loudly with relief. "Hello," the kind-sounding voice calls down the line when an answer isn't immediately given.

"I-I, uhm…," Quinn starts, whimpering at the pain that immediately blooms in her chest with the movement it takes for her to speak. "I need help…a-an ambulance," she forces out quickly, gripping at her chest in a panic.

"Ok ma'am," the dispatcher replies calmly, which really pisses Quinn off, but she forces herself not to say that. "I need you to tell me your name, where you are and if you can, what is wrong so that I can get someone out there to you."

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she replies, lying on her back again when the pain radiating through her body becomes too much. "I'm at M-Mckinley High School, i-in the girls' locker room a-and…" She closes her eyes, only now realizing that her cheeks are wet with tears. Taking a calming breath, Quinn forces herself to say what she's been forcing herself not to think. "I've been r-raped."

~ GLEE ~

Puck steps out of his bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets still clinging to his skin. A smile, which has become rare for him lately, plays on his lips at the excitement of going out for the first time in a while. He usually has to babysit his sister because his mom works the night shift on Fridays, but this weekend Bekkah is saying the night at her friend's house, and Puck is going out.

Just as he's pulling his pants on, his phone vibrates loudly across his bedside table, startling him into action. Grabbing himself a t-shirt from the stack of clean clothes he still hasn't put away, Puck dives onto his bed, catching his phone before it falls.

"What, San," he answers, scrambling up from his bed. "Hold your fuckin' horses. I'm on my way to the party now." (So what if it's kind of a lie? He'll be on his way in a few minutes) Clicking the "speaker" button, Puck tosses his phone onto his bed so that he can pull his shirt over his head.

"Britt and I need a chauffeur to the party, so get your ass over to my house first," Santana's bites out, her usual bossy demeanor really shining through, and that can only mean one thing – she's pissed. "Fuckin' Quinn was supposed to drive us after she helped her mom with some shit, but she's not answerin' her goddamn phone." Ah – that it is. Pissed at Quinn, the usual.

Picking up his phone and keys, Puck rolls his eyes at the girl drama and begins walking out to his truck. "Yeah, yeah, Lopez. I'm on my way," he answers testily, as discussing Quinn isn't really his favorite thing to do these days. He hangs up the phone before Santana can retort, kind of getting a charge out of knowing that she'll probably ream him out for it when he gets to her house. She's just so damn easy to piss off…he can't resist.

He pulls into Santana's driveway five minutes later and beeps his horn. No way in fuck's name is he knocking on that front door. Her dad's home, and he doesn't particularly like Puck. Probably has something to do with the whole thing where he used to fuck his daughter, but whatever.

Santana comes out of her house shouting into her phone while Brittany follows silently behind her. She slides into the front seat, a sour look on her face. "You better be fucking bleeding to death, Fabray, because if you're not, I'm about three seconds from going all Lima Heights on your ass the next time I see you," she yells, her face turning red with anger.

It's actually pretty damn entertaining, but Puck's not about to say that and get hit.

"Don't say you're going to drive someone somewhere and not fucking do it!"

Puck and Brittany both jump as Santana slams her phone down on the dashboard.

"Relax, San," Brittany says from the backseat of Puck's truck. "Maybe her mom grounded her or something."

Puck pulls out of the driveway and silently begins heading toward Rachel's house. He knows how Santana is. She's hot-headed (like him) and when she's hurt or upset, her first instinct is to lash out. Feeding into her "bitch moments" will only make things worse. (Plus…as much as Quinn's name just pisses him off right now for his own reasons, he still cares about her and he's not going to bash her. Santana wouldn't either if she wasn't so pissed off)

Santana sighs loudly, her anger deflating a little bit. "This is our senior year, and probably one of our last glee parties. She's always fuckin' flaking out."

"Maybe she had other shit to do and she'll show," Puck finally says, rolling his eyes.

After a few minutes of driving, Puck's phone begins to vibrate in the center console, his mom's number flashing across the screen and he immediately rolls his eyes, hoping Bekkah's still staying at her friend's house. He does not want to fucking babysit tonight.

"Yea," he bites out in a meaner tone than he means to.

"Noah," his mother's slightly frantic voice calls down the line and Puck immediately knows that something's wrong. "You need to come down here. Now."

He slams on his breaks, pulling the truck quickly to the side of the road. Ignoring Santana's super bitchy glare, Puck focuses on his mother. "What's wrong, Ma? Are you hurt? Is Beks okay? 'Cause Amy's mom didn't call me, and.."

"No, no," Mrs. Puckerman replies quickly, shooting down his initial thoughts. "It's not me or Bekkah," she clarifies. The next sentence out of her mouth has his mouth dropping open and his heart skipping a beat. "It's Quinn. She was just brought down here from McKinley. She's unconscious and she needs surgery right away."

Puck swallows hard, taking in the information he's just been given and digesting is piece by piece. He's terrified, but suddenly creeps in, taking over his thoughts. "W-why are you calling me and not her mom?"

Mrs. Puckerman sighs loudly into the phone. "Sweety. Her mother isn't her emergency contact. You are. Her papers haven't been changed since she was pregnant, I assume." She pauses for a moment, letting the information sink in. "You need to come down here now. She needs surgery immediately and because she's unconscious and eighteen, your signature isn't needed, but if you want her mother to be informed, you'll need to come down here and have the hospital do that."

"What's…what's wrong with her," he asks, making a U-turn and heading toward the hospital. He can hear Santana huffing and puffing from the seat beside him, but he purposely tunes her out. Her plans aren't really his concern at the moment.

His mother sighs again – something that's really starting to wear on his nerves – before she tells him something that he immediately wishes he could unlearn. "Quinn was raped. She's sustained quite a few injuries, and – "

He throws his phone out the window of his truck. He doesn't want to hear another fucking word.

There are three things Puck knows as he makes his way down the highway toward Lima Memorial:

One, she's hurt. Someone hurt her. So badly that she needs surgery. He never, ever thought anything like that would happen.

Two, someone hurt her. They intentionally and forcefully hurt her. How could someone do this… and how is she ever going to get over this?

Three, he's going to kill someone.

A/N - Review? :)