I may seem crazy
Or painfully shy
And these scars wouldn't be so hidden
If you would just look me in the eye
I feel alone here and cold here
Though I don't want to die
But the only anesthetic that makes me feel anything kills inside
I do not want to be afraid
I do not want to die inside just to breathe in
I'm tired of feeling so numb
Relief exists I find it when
I am cut
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
She was the first thing that caught his eye when he entered through the double doors that morning. She was standing at her locker, smiling brightly at Mercedes, who was holding her hands out purposefully in front of her. Probably showing off her new nail color or some other girly shit, he assumed.
He stood still for a while, just watching her. He took in the silky blonde hair that she had shaped into perfectly spiraled curls, not a single trace of pink remaining. His eyes fell to her knee-length floral print dress with matching cardigan. A welcome change from the the dark, tattered clothes she'd been showing up to school in for the past few weeks, that was for sure. She looked perfect. Normal, like she was back to her old self. He knew better.
He waited for Mercedes to rush off to class before approaching her. The bell rang as she began to gather books from her locker.
"We need to talk," he said when he reached her. He was never one to beat around the bush.
"About the plan?" And neither was she. He nodded. "So you're on board?"
"No," he said firmly, causing her to raise her eyebrows at him and frown. "I think you're being crazy." She rolled her eyes, laughing off his harsh words. "We can't do this," he continued.
"Sure we can," she said easily, turning to face him. "She's our kid."
"It's not that simple Quinn, and you know it." His voice was smooth and calm, yet matter of fact. "Beth is Shelby's child now. We gave up the right to be her parents when we signed those papers." She sighed impatiently, turning her face away from him. She knew deep down that he was right, but she couldn't accept it. He didn't understand. "We can still be a part of her life, Quinn, even if we don't raise her. Shelby wants us to be there for her."
"It's not enough," Quinn said defiantly, shaking her head. "She needs her real mom, not Shelby. She needs me." And I need her, Quinn added silently in her head. "I'm doing this," she said firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. She closed her locker and then added, "With or without you."
And with that, she turned to walk away.
"Quinn, wait," Puck pleaded, catching her by the arm. She winced at his touch, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out. He saw tears start to form in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't think I grabbed you that hard," he said, loosening his grasp on her arm.
"Let go of me," she said angrily, trying to free herself from his grip. As she did, the sleeve of her sweater slid up just slightly, and something caught Puck's eye.
"What the hell?" he said in shock. He pulled her sleeve up further, revealing the deep cuts that covered her forearm. "So you're hurting yourself now?" Puck said in disbelief.
"None of your business," she said coldly, quickly pulling her sleeve down. She glanced nervously around the nearly empty hallway to see if anyone had seen anything.
"Quinn, you need to talk to someone about this." She sensed the concern in his voice. "This is serious."
"You don't have to pretend you care," she said, laughing bitterly. "You've made it clear that you don't."
"Of course I care," he said defensively. "I'll always care about you. Don't you know that by now?" He paused, looking her straight in the eyes. "Let me help you through this. Please." For a brief moment, she was lost in his sympathetic eyes. A part of her wanted to fall into his embrace and let him hold her while she cried. You can't, a voice in her head told her. Don't kid yourself, Quinn. You had your chance with him, and you blew it.
"I don't need your help," she said finally, looking away from him. "Or anyone else's. I'm fine."
"Do you think you have everybody fooled?" Puck asked in frustration. "You can put your old clothes back on and wash the dye out of your hair, but that doesn't change the fact that you're obviously not okay." He gestured to her now blood-stained sleeve. "You might have the glee club convinced, but you're not fooling yourself. And you're definitely not fooling me."
"Go ahead," she said with a shrug. "Tell everyone I'm a head case. See if I care." She rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest. "Can I go to class now?"
Puck could tell this apathy was purely an act. He could see it in her eyes. She could say so much with just a look, and right then he saw such pain in those perfect hazel eyes. He knew that underneath this tough exterior, she was falling apart at the seams. As good as she had become at making it look like she had things together, he could always see right through her. But what could he do? How could he help her when she wasn't interested in helping herself?
"Yeah," he said, defeated. "But please know this," he pleaded as she turned to leave. She turned back to face him, and their eyes locked. "I'm not giving up on you." She swallowed hard, keeping his gaze for a few fleeting moments, before turning to leave. As he watched her walk away, he could have sworn he heard a whispered thank you.