Hey guys, a short but hopefully sweet one tonight! So in the next chapter I'm going to focus more one some new issues for Quinn, including her finding out who called the social services. Also expect some cute Faberry scenes but also some drama! Not only with Rachel but also with The New Directions and The Skanks. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I would love to know your thoughts on it!

Beep.
Beep.
Beep.

I turn over groggily and slam a hand down on my alarm clock. I try to sit up but my head pounds with such force that I immediately lie flat on my back again. I stare up at the ceiling, resenting it being only Thursday.

I realise I'm still in yesterday's clothes and covered in dried blood. I look away from the cuts and blood in shame. Now that the good feeling has left, that's all I'm left with. Shame. Disgust. Anger. I wipe my face with my hand and force myself out of bed and into the shower, ignoring my persistent morning headache.

I slump down to the floor and against the tiled wall in the shower as the hot water pounds on my back, washing away the red humiliation that is plastered to my skin. You're dead to me. The words play over and over in my mind, digging an even bigger trench of self-hate.

I look at the newly formed cuts on my shoulders, tummy and thighs. Some of them are deep and raw, and you can see right down into the angry looking open flesh. I brush my fingertips over the deepest one which is on my left shoulder and flinch with the pain. Peeling my clothes off opened a few of the wounds and caused them to bleed again. As I wash my matted hair as gently as possible to get all the blood out, the shampoo starts to sting the cuts that the shattered glass made when my dad through his whisky bottle at me. I bite down on my lip hard to stop myself from yelping.

Eventually, I clamber out of the shower and dry myself off with a towel with the little energy I have- staining the white cotton red. I scoff to myself as I look around my bedroom. It looks like someone has been murdered in here with the amount of blood everywhere. I sigh, knowing that I don't have time to clean it all up now, but my father never wanders into my room anyway. There isn't any booze in here.

I fold some tissue up and place it over the bleeding cuts then put fresh clothes on top. A loose, long sleeved black sweatshirt and a pair of navy jeans complete with converse. I didn't want to wear anything that might irritate my cuts and make them bleed again. I try to fix my hair and avoid where my scalp stings. Maybe a slouch hat wasn't such a bad idea today.

I shortly realise that my father isn't in the house; he's probably out 'shopping'. Grabbing a few bits of food and a whole load of beer and spirits, anything with an alcohol percentage.

I skip breakfast, not feeling hungry at all. Instead I just have a few sips of water and head out of the door, towards McKinley.

Every step I take sets my wounds on fire. Not just the cuts but my back and my stomach from where I was kicked. It even hurts to breath and I just pray nothing's broken, though I did notice a viscous bruise starting to form on the side of my ribs. Luckily, my nose isn't broken from where he kicked me in the face, though it sure as hell hurts and I'm positive it's not made the shiner look any better.

I drag myself through the hallway and make my way towards homeroom. I spy Rachel already sat there, doodling in her notebook and I remember the note she left wedged in my locker yesterday. I lump wells up in my throat but I push it down, vowing to be kinder to Rachel today. Right now, she seemed to be the only person that cared. God knows why.

I drop in my seat and mutter a, "Hey" at Rachel, forcing myself to smile. She turns to me in shock that I've actually acknowledged her and not said anything rude or insulting.

"Oh, hey Quinn," she replies shyly, brushing a piece of brunette hair behind her ear, but it lops back to where it was and I bite my lip, resisting the urge to smooth it back behind her ear. She looks at me, taking in the few cuts on my face, left by my father's boot in addition to my black eye which I hoped was beginning to fade by now. She searches my eyes, waiting for me to say something.

"I got your note, thank you," I mutter and her face lights up. "But I don't need your help. What I'm dealing with has nothing to do with you and I'd rather deal with it alone." I glance at her, her face dropping immediately and she lets out a frustrated growl.

"Look at you Quinn, how can you sit here looking like you're been throw into a pool of barb wire and rocks and tell me you don't need help, that you can handle it yourself? Clearly you can't," she finishes softly. Tears begin to well in my eyes and no matter how much I try to force them away they won't go, they start to slide down my cheeks, betraying my feelings. People are right, the truth hurts. No matter how much I want to deal with my issues by myself, I know it's near impossible. Rachel looks at me sadly and reaches out to touch my hand, I let her. Her warm touch is comforting but too much to bear and now I don't bother trying to fight the tears anymore.

She grips my hand and starts to lead me out of the room and towards the bathroom. Once inside the bathroom, without warning, she pulls me into an embrace and I don't resist. I relish the caring gesture- the touch of another human being that isn't causing pain but trying to heal it. She smooths the back of my hair as I sob all my emotions out into her shoulder.

"Please Quinn, please let me in," she whispers. "I can tell you really need a friend, and not some group of girls who couldn't care less about you or what's going on."

I don't say anything, I realise I'm still gripping her tight and she gently pulls away and says, "C'mon, we can't miss homeroom." She grabs some tissue from the dispenser and gently wipes the tears and the running makeup from my face. "There. As pretty as ever," she says, drawing a shy smile out of me.

"Thank you," I croak, feeling my voice crack from the tears. She grabs my hand again and leads me back to room 4. The classroom's full now, Mr Schue included. No one really pays us much attention as we head to our seats.

Rachel still has hold of my hand but lets it go once we sit down and I find myself starting to miss her comforting touch. I clear my throat and ask, "Why do you care so much about what happens to me?"

She looks at me with remorseful chocolate brown eyes. "Because no one should have to endure what you're going through."

"You don't know what I'm going through…" I say quietly, looking away from her and down at my desk.

"Do you think I'm stupid Quinn? I saw the cuts on your body," she lowers her voice. "The type of cuts that are made when a person is hurting so bad inside that the only thing they can take it out on is themselves. And your black eye? Other people may be ignorant but not me."

I force myself to look at her. Her face is full of concern and her eyes are wildly emotional and are staring to tear up. I swallow hard but she continues, "Look, I know you don't want people to know but you need to tell someone, you need to get out of that house Quinn, it's destroying you. I don't know how your parents could treat you so bad to make you do that to yourself," she gestures to where my cuts are hiding under my clothes.

"My mom's dead I whisper. It's just my," I choke out the next word, resenting calling it him, "Father."

"I'm sorry," she apologises as though it was her fault and I shrug.

Mr Schue takes the register and the students begin to file out of the room, with me by Rachel's side.

"I have Drama now," she says.

"I have psychology,"

"So, I guess I'll see you at morning break?" she asks, with a slight tinge of hopefulness in her voice.

"What about your friends?"

"Come and hang out with us," she offers.

I shake my head and her smile drops. "I don't think we'd get along, I mean, I can just about tolerate you and that's only because you found out my deep dark secrets," I joke, but she doesn't laugh.

"I'd really like you to Quinn." The way she says my name sends butterflies coursing through my stomach.

"I'll think about it," I say as a last offer but she grins at my response and without warning, hugs me briefly.

"Thank you! I just, really want to get to know you Quinn, you're a special person. I can tell." I'm stunned by her words, unsure of how to reply, so I don't. We walk in silence for a few moments before her small voice once again wafts into my ears. "We're kind of friends huh?"

I smile. "Kind of."