Blaine’s heart rate quickened and he stood up, looking for a clock. When he found one his heart dropped, for it said 7:45. Kurt has been missing for over 3 hours and I haven’t reported it “I’m going to call Finn. I’ll be right back.” Blaine said urgently. He rushed to his room with his cell phone in hand and called Finn. When the dopey voice answered “Hello?” Blaine took a deep breathe, wondering what to say.

“Hey, Finn. Is uhm…is Kurt home?” Blaine asked. “Kurt? No, I thought he went to your house. That’s what his note says. Is he not there?” Finn asked confused. this is bad. So so so bad. Oh my gosh, Kurt “He…he never made it over. And…and I had a anxiety attack and I didn’t…I just…I don’t know what to do! He’s been gone for over three hours, Finn! Call the cops, I’ll look around the neighborhood. I feel terrible, what if he’s gone forever, what if…” Blaine was starting to hyperventilate again. Passing out is NOT what Kurt needs right now.

“Kurt…never made it over? Blaine, dude, this is bad! I’ll get my dad. Go look, I’ll just…” and with that Finn hung up on him. Blaine threw his phone on his bed. Grabbing a jacket from his closet, he ran out the door and reached his tennis shoes. His mother was standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. “Blaine, what’s going on?” She asked.

“Kurt’s missing. I’m going to try to find him. Mom…I screwed up! I had an anxiety attack! He’s been gone for hours; do you know what could have happened to him by now?” Blaine yelled.

“Goodness gracious, Blaine we need to report this. Hold on, you look, I’ll call the cops.” Blaine’s mother said, and she was off to the kitchen for the cordless. Blaine ran out the door and down the side walk towards where the screaming had been coming from. The screaming! I forgot to tell my mom. Blaine reached for his cell phone, then remembered he had flung it at his bed. He slowed to a jog when he reached the corner, and surveyed his surroundings. It looked like a perfectly normal street, with no signs of violence. He walked down the sidewalk looking at bushes and grass for any sign of abnormality. Halfway down, he turned his head toward the street where a slip of paper was lying. He looked both ways, and then jogged to the paper, grabbing it up and jogging back to the side walk. The piece of paper was a white half-sheet with a notice for an additional glee club practice on it. There was no school name, no instructor name or student name, but when Blaine read it he just knew. This was Kurt’s paper, and someone had taken him.

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6:00 pm

Kurt’s head was pounding like he had just been hit by a truck. Nothing was making sense and everything was swirling and colors were blending and yeah, he was going to be sick. Kurt rolled on his side, almost falling off of the raised surface he was laying on, and vomited out the contents of his small lunch. A person from behind him sniffed in disapproval and Kurt automatically went rigid. He wiped a hand across his mouth and tried to stop the dancing spots in his vision, when he felt something dried on his cheek. He reached farther up and felt jagged bumps.what is that?. He slowly became frustrated and the dots in his vision started fading. When they cleared, Kurt turned back around and was met with a confusing sight. He was in a dilapidated room, almost no light filtering through the blocked mini-window by the ceiling. There was an open doorway, door swinging open into his room, and a man standing there blocking the only available exit, his back to him. Kurt sat up straight, struggling to process all of this at once. Where am i? As he took in more of the room (the piled boxes, the broken table he was laying on, the concrete floors) Kurt realized he was in major trouble.

How did I even end up here? Slowly, thoughts began trickling into his head. He remembered walking over to Blaine’s house and the jogger. Then he remembered being pushed to the ground and seized. The memories kept coming back faster and faster, each worse than the last, Now he was jumping out of the vehicle, screaming for Blaine who he was certain couldn’t hear him, his face was being jammed into the concrete, he was being restrained by a strong grip, and then nothing but the burning scent of alcohol. I was…kidnapped? Well that explains my cheek, but… Blaine! I wonder what he’s thinking. He probably thinks I stood him up or something! But does it even matter? I’ll probably die here! No, don’t think that way. Kurt formed a sketchy plan in his head, deciding he would rather die trying.

Kurt took a tentative step down from his makeshift “bed” and slowly made his way towards the man at the door, trying in vain to not make any noise to alert the man to his presence. He knows I’m awake, what is he waiting for? when he was within ten feet of the guy, he took in a deep breathe, and then vaulted himself forward, pushing the guy out of the way and to the ground. In his haste, he couldn’t slow himself down and slammed into the opposite wall. He froze for half a second, and then tore down the hallway. He was passing by more open rooms, all equally shabby as his own. He was nearing the end of this hall and turned around, only to see the guy he had shoved to the ground was pursuing him, an angry scowl on his face. The most terrifying part of it all was he didn’t recognize the man. Why is he doing this?! He turned back around and followed the turn in the hall. His pursuer started yelling “Escape! He’s escaping!” and Kurt pushed himself faster still, heart in his throat, breathing raggedly.

He was rushing down the hall, when all of a sudden there was a man blocking his path, standing stock still in the middle of the hall. Kurt shrieked and tried to slow down before ramming into him, but was not successful. He hurled into him, and was immediately grabbed. The man picked him up by his waist and threw him over his shoulder. Kurt started screaming, not even words just shrill sounds, and clawed at his captors back, feet flailing in the air. He was being walked back towards his holding room. He turned in the grasp and punched the burly man on the back of the head, frustrating him. The man pulled his arm away, but Kurt ripped it free and punched the man square in the face, causing him to loosen his hold on Kurt and shout out in anger and pain. Kurt fell to the ground in a painful heap, hands first, and heard a loud snapping crack. He hardly registered the intense pain in his left wrist with all the adrenaline pounding through his veins. He pulled himself to his feet and ran to the nearest doorway, finding it open to a set of upwards leading stairs. Glad he was so light and skinny, he ran up the stairs, still not noticing the flaring pain from his wrist. He heard the call of his kidnapper, an angry shout, and then there were thundering steps on the stairs behind him. He pushed himself faster, close to fainting from exertion.

He reached the top stair and ripped open the door at the top. He turned into that hall and saw a dead end ahead. Running a few doors down, he threw himself into an open door and looked around for someplace to hide. Luckily, he was surrounded by towers of boxes. He pushed around one stack and made his way through the maze to the back corner of the room. He crouched down close to the ground as the sound of footsteps sounded in the hall. Horrified, Kurt realized there were at lease three people upstairs looking for him. Sitting in the darkness, he tried to quiet his heavy panting. With no present threat, Kurt started to feel the pain radiating up his left arm. His breathe caught in his throat and he looked down at his wrist, which was indeed hanging at an awkward angle. Kurt pressed his right hand to his mouth the quiet the pained groan making its way out of his throat. Tears pricked at his eyes, and Kurt let them fall without a fight. He needed to cry, or he was going to implode from all his frenzied emotions. He pressed himself closer to the wall, trying to ignore the pain caused by jostling his arm.

There was a sudden noise from the doorway of his hiding room, and Kurt held his breathe. One of the men had entered his room and was shoving around boxes. Stay calm, you can get out of this. The man was getting louder and louder, but also going into the other side of the room. Kurt clenched his teeth and decided if he had to get out, now would be the best time, as they were on opposite sides of the room. He left his crouching stance, wincing when blood rushed to his legs. He paused for a moment, deciding which way was the best way to go about leaving, when he caught sight of the man. He had his back to him, and Kurt could see this was the guy who threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Kurt inched his way across the wall, and then walked forward into the stacks of boxes. He paused each time before crossing open spaces, and as he was nearing the door failed to notice a lone box on the ground. Kurt’s shoe caught on the edge of it, and he sprawled spectacularly, catching a stack of boxes with his right arm. He shouted out in surprise and pain and was then on the ground, being suffocated by the heavy boxes.

They were pressing and cutting into his sides, while trapping him down with their weight. The pain in Kurt’s wrist because of the angle was almost unbearable and Kurt couldn’t help but cry out. He let out a choked sob that was immediately squelched by the box near his face. One was cutting into his neck sharply, surely drawing blood. The weight was almost unbearable, and when his kidnapper started moving the boxes aside to reach him, Kurt was almost relieved. His captor reached his leg, and gave a tug. Kurt yelped out in pain and the tugging stopped. Kurt started crying, wishing with all his being that they wouldn’t kill him. I was just going to Blaine’s. What did I even do to anyone? More boxes were removed from his body, and with each one Kurt felt himself breathe easier. When the box restricting his left wrist was lifted however, Kurt choked on air at the intense pain. How broken is it?

They finally removed the boxes from around his face and Kurt clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to believe this was actually happening. He was hauled up by his right arm and was immediately restrained by his chest. The person picked him up and held him like a cradled baby, but much too roughly to be dealing with a child. He was walked back to his room, and shoved inside. This time the door was shut on his face. Kurt pounded on the door with his good hand, yelling “Why are you doing this to me? I did nothing wrong!” He heard a laugh from the other side which was, surprisingly, feminine. “You didn’t do anything wrong, kid, you just happened to have been the kid we were instructed to abduct.” She said. Kurt froze in mid pound, replying with a confused “Why me? What do you want with me?”

“WE don’t want anything from you. But someone else does.” She said with a apparent smile in her words. “Who?” Kurt whispered through the door.

“See, that’s for us to know and for you to maybe find out.” She replied, and then Kurt heard her footsteps echo down the hallways. Kurt walked slowly to the wall behind the table, leaning against it and sinking to the ground. His mind was whirling, and he couldn’t stop the silent tears from streaking down his face. Someone wanted me kidnapped? But why? Sure, tons of people are homophobic towards me, but they wouldn’t try to abduct me would they? Kurt sunk down on the floor, lying flat against the cold ground, holding his injured wrist to his chest. He weakly called out towards the door “Is anyone still there?”

“Yeah,” was the grunted reply. “I-I think I b-broke my wrist.” Kurt said pathetically. “Deal with it kid.” Said the man at the door. Kurt turned his face towards the wall and started crying harder. what if it stays like this? It will just make it that harder to fix. Kurt fell into a fitful sleep, and started dreaming of Blaine.