Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or White Houses.

Note: So, so glad you're enjoying this. It will definitely be Hummelberry friendship, but I'm not sure if it'll be Quick yet. I'm kind of pleased with the Quinn backstory, so here you have it. Domestic violence warning on this chapter.

Stay up too late, and I'm too thin

I looked into the cracked mirror of our dingy home, my reflection distorted. I don't even recognize myself anymore. It's not just the way the mirror is cracked and jagged, but the girl in the mirror, I don't know her. She's ugly and scarred and disfigured. She used to be a size-two teenage dream. She's still a size-two, but she's no longer a teenager, and she's certainly not a dream. She's hideous. What man could love her now?

Quinn Fabray, former beauty queen. I had been Prom Queen. I had been Homecoming Queen. I was even in the running for Miss Arizona. So how did it get to this point? How did I go from the prettiest, most popular girl in school to the ugliest girl on the streets? I was the captain of the cheerleading squad, dating the quarterback of the football team. Everyone stared when I walked down the halls, with my blonde hair and green eyes.

Now they stare at me for a different reason.

They see the scars and they wonder, "what happened?"

I could tell you what happened. I really could. But should I? It could be a warning to other girls like me, the ones who think they could never get hurt. I went to Yale, for goodness sake. I am Miss Ivy League. I just…made a wrong turn.

I didn't do this to myself. Why would anyone do this to themselves? No, he did it. I can't say his name—he's in jail for what he did—but I can tell you that he abused me.

It started with the innocent things, the jealousy and the name-calling. He'd get jealous if I talked to my friends back home, even if they were just that—friends. He'd push me around if he saw me talking to another guy on campus, even if we were just working on a class project together. He'd slap me if another guy looked my way, as if it were my fault. I cried. Don't get me wrong, it hurt, and I cried. But I didn't tell a soul, not even God. I covered the bruises with dresses and shrugs and long sleeves. I covered them by wearing black tights and makeup. I'd shrug it off, saying I walked into something, and oh, how clumsy of me. No one looked twice. He kept up appearances in public, the golden boy, the man about campus.

And I took it, all of it, every slap, every kick, and every punch.

I didn't realize that it had gone too far until he'd set fire to our apartment—purposely.

That's how I got my scars.

They cover seventy percent of my body, mostly my face and my torso. There are some scars on my arms and legs, but they're not as noticeable. I spent almost two months in the hospital in recovery.

That's when I broke my silence.

And that's when I moved to New York City—to start over and get away from the memories. He was in jail now, he'd confessed, and he was away for hopefully a long time.

But I haven't told the roommates. They've been starting, but I can't bring myself to tell them the truth. What would they think of me, of my choices? What would they think of Miss Teen Arizona 2007? What would they say?

I don't know if I want their sympathies.

Ladies, don't let a man push you around.

Don't wait until it's almost too late, like I did.

Break your silence. It's okay. There's women's shelters for girls like us, they'll take you in and keep you secret, away from the abusers. They'll provide you with a home, try to get you back on your feet. You can even bring your children.

I wish I'd known about the shelters. I would've liked to spend time with the children. Children don't see the world in black and white like adults do. They see in colors. They see people for who they are as opposed to what they look like. I bet they wouldn't see my scars. They'd see me, Quinn, a friend, someone who knows what they're going through.

I flopped back on my bed in the room I shared with Tina and Rachel. "Hey, wanna order out for a pizza?" Tina asked.

"If you'd like to. I'm…on a diet," I said. It was true, I didn't eat much. It was a result of my crazy dieting days as a cheerleader. I wasn't bulimic; that wasn't my route. I just skipped a meal here and there when I found it necessary. I knew I was thin, probably too thin, but it suited me. Being thin and pretty was all that I knew. If I couldn't be pretty anymore, at least I could be thin.

"Okay," Tina shrugged, and she went downstairs. I listened to her walk away. She seemed like a nice girl, a quiet girl, a pretty girl, if she'd lose the Goth look. If there was anyone in this house I would tell my secret to, it would be her. Rachel is too loud, Kurt is a gossip, and I'm not sure if I can trust Noah yet.

I stay up when the others have gone to sleep. It's just a side affect, the insomnia, up late constantly worrying if he was going to hurt me again. I knew if I tried to leave, that would be it for me.

Actually, I tried to leave once.

It didn't turn out too well. It was a long night of rough, unforgiving pain.

But you know what? This could be my new chance to start over. I'm not ready to fall in love again. I don't know if I ever will be. All I know is that I certainly can't face my old friends in Arizona. I was their beauty queen, I was the one they all worshipped in high school. I can't go back there again and show them what's become of their pretty girl.

I know I should hate him, and I do.

But I think I hate myself more, for letting him do this to me.

Is that such a bad thing at all?

To be continued.