So far, it had been a normal day for Quinn. She woke up at 6:30, took a shower, slipped into a yellow sun dress, and added a white sweater to cover up. She'd put on mascara, made herself breakfast, gathered her books, and she was next door at Puck's house at precisely 7:30.

"Hey," She said, her voice soft, the only way that she knew how to speak nowadays. Puck only nodded to her, grabbing his backpack and leading the way to his beaten down truck. Quinn followed slowly behind him, the sound of her ballet flats hitting the concrete making him smile to himself. As she got inside of his truck, she made note of the familiar smell. Smoke and cologne, a Noah Puckerman kind of smell. The scent that she'd been smelling everyday for the past three years of him driving her to school. She really did love him.. in a friendship kind of way, of course. He wanted to ask her if anything new had come up about her mom, but he knew that nothing had. If Quinn had been told anything, surely he would've heard her crying from across the patch of grass that divided their houses. He would've left his home and climbed up into her bedroom window without giving a second thought.

"You hungry?" He asked, desperate to make some sort of conversation. He knew that she always made herself toast for breakfast before coming over to leave for school. Puck hated how quiet she was now. Ever since about seven months ago, or however long ago it had been since her mom had gotten sick, she'd been practically silent. Quinn had quit the Cheerio's, the only thing that she really loved other than Glee Club. She had stopped talking to anybody except for him. It made him want to cry.

"I ate." She murmured almost inaudibly. Puck nodded his head. He missed the long conversations that they used to have when they were younger, when everything was fine. They would just sit and talk for hours about things that had no meaning. Everything was so easy then. He knew why she wore those sweaters, it wasn't because she wanted to be conservative of her body or anything. She didn't care about that. She had to cover up the bruises that covered her arms.

"What is that, Q?" Puck asked, gesturing to the brown marks on her upper arm.

"What's what?" Quinn said quietly, pulling her sweater back up to cover her shoulders. She hadn't noticed that it had fallen down.

"The bruises on your arm.." He asked again, cautiously. Quinn quickly turned her head away from him, holding her sweater closer to her.

"Nothing, they're nothing." She said quickly.

"They're not nothing, Quinn. They're huge."

"Just leave me alone, okay?"

Puck was used to seeing them by now. Time and time again when they were together, she wouldn't bother wearing a sweater. It wasn't like he didn't know what was going on. They would sit in front of his television screen for hours, and then she would leave without either of them saying a word to one another. It was nothing like how it used to be. Sometimes, Quinn would stay at his house until after midnight. Then he would sit in his bedroom and listen to her father's screaming, the sound of a chair being knocked over, the crashing of plates against the walls. He'd listened to her cry herself to sleep on those nights, and then there would be fresh bruises on her arms and legs the next morning. "You really oughta tell somebody about that, Quinn." Puck said, trying to shake the memories off. Still, the marks were huge. They were practically impossible to miss.

She kept her gaze locked on the dashboard of his truck as she pulled up her sweater again, not bothering to meet his eyes. She knew what he was referring to, they'd had this conversation plenty of times. She just didn't feel like talking about that right now.

"If you don't, I will." He added.

"No you won't." Quinn mumbled. He sighed, knowing perfectly well that she was right. He could never do that to her. Still, it killed him to see her like this. Quinn had never held her father accountable for his mistakes when he beat her. She understood all of the stress that he was under. However, she was going through all of the same things. The pain just didn't bother her anymore. In a way, it was numbing. It made her forget about the fact that her mother was dying for just a few minutes. The pain in her limbs making everything else seem not so bad.

Once Puck pulled up in the lot of McKinley, they both got out of the truck. Quinn went into the building as fast as she could, trying to avoid any other conversations with him. Sighing again, he closed the door to his truck, following her into the building. Gripping the straps of his bag, he wondered just when this was going to end, and if it ever would.

A/N: Hey everyone! So I know that this is really short, but this is just a preview of what the story is going to be like, the rest of the chapters will be longer. I actually have a lot in mind for where this story is going to go, and I'm promising now that I'll update at a normal pace.. although I know that I'm never too good at keeping this promise. Once I get a couple of reviews I'll post the next chapter!