Summary: Rory gets a boyfriend. Tristan sees signs of abuse, and Rory knows it. Can Tristan save her in the long run?

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 1. On the sidelines.

She came up behind him and wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. But he didn't reply lovingly.

He quickly discarded her, ripping her gesture off. Rory furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and sadness. He just kept talking with his friends, not paying any attention to her.

Tristan stood at the sidelines, watching it all. It had always been this way, since he could remember. Ever since they got together. Ron and her. It didn't make sense in his mind.

Rory quickly walked way from him. She couldn't stand to look at him anymore. She didn't even know why she was even with him.

No. She knew. She knew perfectly why she didn't leave him. It was because he would kill her if she didn't. Those were his words; he said it to her. He threatened her if she told; calling the police; telling anyone; breaking up with him; etc. It was all in the same category. She knew exactly what she wasn't supposed to do, and what not to do... he reminded her of it everyday.

His low, growl-ly voice could get anything it ever wanted. And she gave it to him, on a silver platter. He wouldn't take it any other way.

Tristan just glared at Ron. He couldn't believe this guy would dismiss such a person as Rory. Sometimes, he had nightmares about the way he treated her: complete hatred; full detestation. What the hell was his problem?

What was hers? What did she see in him? How could she be with him? The questions real in his mind one hundred times a second.

Most of the time, he just turned and walked away. He couldn't watch them anymore without getting nauseous. Complete and total sickness, they were.

Rory entered her first period class. Followed closely by her "boyfriend". He tried to put his hand around her waist, but she pulled away from him. He grabbed her wrist, and squeezed hard.

"Hey," he warned her softly.She kept her lips pursed and allowed him to access he wanted. Looking elsewhere, tears threatened to escape. She looked down at her wrist; it was going to get bruised.

She wondered if anyone noticed she had been wearing baggy clothes lately. She wanted them to notice. She wanted to tell them everything. Get everything off her chest, that is what she needed to do; and badly.

She was going to die if she didn't.

Tristan saw the panorama playing in front of him. He always sat in the back of the classes that he had with Rory.

This wasn't new. He wasn't stupid. He always noticed the bruises on her legs. But, the truth is, he was afraid to ask. She might hate him for life. So he stayed on the sidelines, just doing his thing.

But every Friday, he would follow her home (she would be riding in Ron's car), just to make sure she would get there safely.

Rory took out the necessary items for Mr. Madina's literature class. She had took her regular seat, right by the window, clear view of the outside world she could never take part in.

The bell rang.

Mr. Madina: "Class, the bell has rung, in your seats." That is how he always started this class. Those were always his first words. "Now, back to yesterday's lesson. Blah, blah, blah."

She tried hard to listen to him. She really did. But ever since, she found she couldn't pay attention in class. She didn't know why; other things were on her mind, maybe.

He was sitting behind her. Tristan was sitting behind Rory. She had just gathered her hair and put it to one side of her shoulder, and he could see more bruises and cuts.

She was hurting, and he could tell. He couldn't do anything, though. He was just on the sidelines.

A/N: Hey, tell me if you like it and if I should go on. I think that it's leading to a great story, though. Please review, for my sake.