“Blaine, it’s your turn to clean up after dinner,” reminded Burt when Blaine started to leave.

Blaine left the kitchen with shoulders back, head up, and feet strutting boldly out. A mocking show put on which told the Hummels he point blank refused to wash dishes, wipe the down the table, or push in the chairs. Surely neglecting to obey a direct order in such a manner would result in a beating. A beating he deserved. Waiting in his room, Blaine’s door was wide open accepting his punishment without barriers, for Burt to march in with a belt and hit him. Waiting for the welts. Waiting for the pain. The abuse to begin. To finally feel relieved and know that he could once again curl up into himself and not deal with the world anymore as his music played.

Nothing.

Kurt watched as Blaine left the kitchen giving his dad a look. They both knew what was coming next. That this was only the beginning on a long and winding road lying ahead of them. Luckily they had been down this road many times; they knew what they were supposed to do. When to turn, when to slow down, and when to go full throttle. But even though they had the experience, this stretch of road always held surprises, especially when you least expected it. Like an unforeseen storm whizzing suddenly across knocking them off path. Worry was passenger to this particular part of the ride. Furthermore, Blaine was a teenager and a teenager could do a lot worse things than a six year old could. But, no matter what happened, or how icy the roads got, or how many storms they encountered on the way, the destination was always worth it.

For they had a rule in the house; to never ever give up on a foster child. It was one of their promises made to Kurt’s mother when she passed away. Once a child was here, they were here to stay until they could go back to their family. No matter how rough it got, and no matter what the child did. This was their home. The reason why they only had one foster child at a time. So they could devote all their attention the child deserved and needed.
The next day Burt addressed Blaine. “Oh! You haven’t done the laundry yet. It’s your turn this week, Blaine,” Burt said and Blaine stood there looking defiantly at him willing him to get a wooden spoon for his disobedience.

Nothing.

He stomped up stairs, frustrated, and slammed the door.

While Kurt knew that his behavior was only going to get worse, he was glad that Blaine was finally showing emotion. This was anger. This was therapeutic . Allowing Blaine to search within himself and let himself actually feel and express the pain he had experienced throughout his life. It was a rough process. Although Kurt could only hope that it wouldn’t get too bad before it got better. Children tended to destroy the house quite a bit. One even threw a rock at the T.V. But this was always how it started, slight disobedience. And when nothing happened to them, they escalated it.

That night he knocked on Blaine’s door, “Blaine, if you hand me your laundry I’ll do it for you.” Blaine stayed in his room. Kurt left to do the rest of the laundry empty handed.

Blaine didn’t eat Thanksgiving dinner with everyone else. He was allowed to eat in his room.

Kurt wondered as Blaine became recluse in his room, if the teen had ever had a proper Thanksgiving Day with anyone. He really wanted Blaine to partake in the joy of making dinner with his family. Ever since his mom died, they had a foster child eat with them. Today the table felt empty without that third person. Every year for Thanksgiving and for Christmas the current foster child would add something to their tradition. Then his father and Kurt kept up whatever the child added year after year, as a memory. One asked to eat pie before dinner, and another wanted macaroni and cheese with the turkey mixed in. Obviously Blaine didn’t have a solid tradition. Kurt wished desperately that the teen would join them, to become part of the tradition. To create his own little nitch in their family. But maybe that was part of the problem too, maybe Blaine didn’t want to become attached to their family for fear of being sent off to yet another one. The only option at this point was continue to show him no matter what he did or what happened they were going to be there to support him. Weren’t going to abandon him like everyone else had.

Blaine came downstairs after hours of being in his room hoping that they were in bed by now, Burt asked him if he was still hungry. What was wrong with them? Why weren’t they acting like Blaine expected them to? Like Blaine wanted them too? Like how Blaine was treated for years and years in foster care?

As the Hummels anticipated, his behavior became more extreme. Instead of mere disobedience, Blaine actively ruined the house.

He started getting mad at them. REACT! He wanted to yell. Soon it became not only a way to receive punishment but also as a means to cause them to call the social worker and send him off to a new home. Maybe getting beaten frequently was difficult to handle but at least he knew what was happening. At least he had trained himself how to deal with it and learned to ignore it. This was different. This was confusing. If he was too difficult to handle they would send him away. That’s how it happened. He got abused then told he was too difficult. Sent to someone else. The cycle started over. How much could they possibly take before either one of those scenarios took place?

Therefore, he broke things, he threw things, he ruined things.

Kurt didn’t know how they weren’t going to run into financial problems if Blaine kept this up much longer. His dad wanted to start a savings account for Blaine with the five hundred dollar check they received each month to be put away for college. Regrettably, however, he needed to use his money to replace the things Blaine broke during his tirades. They had no choice. They weren’t going to give up on him, but sacrifices might have to be made if Blaine didn’t reach his breaking point soon. One could only handle a seemingly endless gale before a accommodations had to be made.

Not only was this financially draining, but emotionally as well. All they wanted to do was help Blaine, but Blaine couldn’t understand that, nor would he let them in. It was like trying to control a lightning storm, no matter how hard they struggled to reason with it the lightning struck where it wanted to. They never knew where, when, or what Blaine was going to strike next. All they could do was hold out until the end of the storm, knowing that while the winds may have subsided, there was another storm brewing just under the surface.

Blaine was here to stay. Both him and his dad knew that he was here to stay, no questions asked. A wonderful boy was hiding behind all of the hurt. Glimmers of it shone through on rare occasions like when Kurt saw Blaine touch the piano in awe. Kurt wanted to see more of that boy. If only they could dig through his past and show him they weren’t the same people which littered his soul with threats, insults, and broken promises.

All Blaine wanted them to do was be angry at him. But they didn’t. How could they just stand there and let him ruin their house? Why were they always calm? How could they not beat him? How could they not get rid of him like everyone else? What else did Blaine have to do to make them understand? That he should be punished. That he should be sent away. That he was broken and unwanted, damaged beyond repair. That no one could love him, and they shouldn’t either. So he broke things, he threw things, he ruined things. No matter how bad Blaine got nothing happened to him.

They didn’t beat Blaine, and they didn’t call the social worker. They replaced things, and put things back, and fixed things.

Sometimes they even joined in.

He took all the rolls of toilet paper in the house, six to be exact, and TPed the front yard. This would get them mad, Blaine was sure of it.

But they didn’t.

Kurt and his dad watched, curious, wondering what Blaine was doing as he went outside with arms full of toilet paper. Finally realizing his plan after seeing him embellish the yard with the paper, they grabbed some lined up along the yard and joined in. For the most part, if Kurt and Burt turned something intended to be naughty into something fun, it often threw the child off course. Besides, there was no harm in TPing a yard. The clean up, however, was a pain afterwards.

“Hey, dad! Catch!” said Kurt throwing the roll over a tree branch laughing as his dad fumbled with it. Kurt looked over to Blaine. His mouth was wide open, obviously confused. Kurt gave him a wide grin, catching the roll his dad tossed back to him and threw it to Blaine.

Blaine stopped what he was doing, perplexed. He stepped aside as the toilet paper rolled away from him. What? He watched Kurt shrug and run to retrieve it before going into the street. Burt and Kurt were laughing and enjoying themselves. What was intended to get Burt furious ended in their pleasure. Why wouldn’t they get mad? Instead of joining in, which for some reason they seemed to want him to; Blaine left the scene unable to comprehend what was going on and waited in the living room. Waited for his punishment.

Nothing.

Blaine was getting out of the car from being dropped off from school. Right before entering the house, he saw an unused paint container. Allowing Burt and Kurt to go inside before him, he quickly took the paint container, scavenged for a paint brush and went inside. It was black and perfect. He stood in the hallway with the paint and brush in hand. And painted curse words across the wall. Fuck. Cu- He heard rustling behind him. Kurt and Burt were splashing paint on the walls behind him. What were they doing? Blaine stopped mid-word out of utter confusion. He watched from down the hallway as the two of them flicked paint on the walls smiles adoring their faces. The hallway was a canvas quickly turned from anger to joy by Burt and Kurt.

But they didn’t do anything to Blaine for his misbehavior and use of curse words.

Nothing.

Sometimes they stood by.

In the kitchen, Blaine opened all the cabinets and started smashing the plates, glass cups, and pans to the ground. A thunderstorm of destruction. The sound was satisfying, an echo to the fury within. The glass breaking and shattering resembled all the times someone had ever hurt Blaine in the past. Drained, there were two cups left abandoned together in the cupboard. The floor below him filled with devastation left behind by lies, pain, and neglect.

The Hummels stood just outside the kitchen from harm’s way waiting for the dark cloud to subside. That night they ate out, and the next day Burt replaced all the broken things with new ones.

Nothing.

And sometimes they left room completely.

The living room was neat and tidy because rules said to pick up after yourself. So Blaine messed it up. Burt had even walked in before Blaine was halfway done politely and calmly asking him to stop. No. So, Burt left as Blaine took all the DVDs out of the cabinet and threw them all over the carpet. Ripped out pages and tossed books. Moved the furniture. Emptied the trash can all around the room. He was a tornado. The ferocious winds bottled inside Blaine were let out and he destroyed the room. Confused. Frustrated. Angry. The unyielding torrent continued. Blaine demolished the living room. Burt stood just outside, watching and waiting for the storm to end. One last slam of a book to the ground and all of Blaine’s energy was used up. Taking a deep breath, he finally stopped.

Burt asked, “Blaine, can you please help clean all this up? It’s going to take a while and Kurt and I would love your help.” Refusing, Blaine watched while the two cleaned. Expecting and hoping to get a reaction. Burt and Kurt calmly ordered the room again chatting about Kurt’s day at school.

But nothing ever happened to Blaine.

Nothing.

They didn’t beat Blaine, and they didn’t call the social worker. They replaced things, they put things back, they fixed things.

Eventually, realization dawned on Blaine. After everything he had done to them and their house, they weren’t going to do anything to him. He felt horrible. He destroyed their home multiple times, and they didn’t do anything to him. They didn’t get rid of him, they didn’t punish him. He was Blaine, someone that people hurt. He needed to be punished. Anger and frustration boiled. His hands shook almost on their own accord. He wanted them to hit him, get rid of him, yell, SOMETHING!

*************************

Well, if they weren’t going to do it, he was.

The only thing in his mind was pain and how he needed to feel it, Blaine went into Burt’s closet and found a belt. He went to the bathroom so he could watch himself hurt in the mirror. So he could look at his reflection staring back and tell it this is what he deserved. He rose the belt up and brought it back down, applying as much pressure against it as he possibly could. A familiar whistling noise traveled through the air. Finding its mark on Blaine’s thigh, a satisfying smack echoed throughout the room as it wacked his skin. The belt dug deep into his leg. It felt good, it felt right. This was how it was supposed to be. He was a terrible person. This was what he deserved. Punishment for not talking. Punishment for never doing anything right. Punishment for all he had done. Punishment for who he was. At each thought of punishment, Blaine hit himself again with the belt. Staring at himself in the mirror, reminding himself why he was doing it.

Several painful scarlet welts now decorated his legs. Good, that's how it should be he told himself. The door banged open. Blaine, too blinded by the moment, didn’t even notice.

Kurt could hear an odd smacking sound coming from upstairs. Suspecting what was happening but dreading and hoping it wasn’t what he thought he quickly yelled to his dad. Together they sprinted upstairs. This was the unexpected disturbance in the road. Something neither of them ever thought they would have to deal with.

Adrenaline fueled, Kurt snatched the belt out of Blaine’s hands right before it hit him again. The belt whipped back and the metal part smacked Kurt in the arm causing him to bleed.

The belt was gone, and Blaine could no longer use it as a tool. Instead, he started hitting and scratching himself with his hands frantically as if desperate to feel the pain again. Kurt’s dad quickly took Blaine into a binding hug so the adolescent couldn’t move his arms restricting him from hurting himself anymore. A technique he was taught a long time ago but only had to use it once before, and never in this kind of situation. Blaine struggled against him, trying to get away. But Kurt’s dad held onto him.

*****************

Blaine wanted him to let go, wanted them to go away. Fighting to get free, he silently pleaded with Burt to let him do what needed to be done. He tried to kick, he tried to move his arms, twisting and straining against his confinement but Burt wouldn’t let go. Finally, worn out and exhausted, Blaine gave in. A tear trickled down his face. Why was he crying? He couldn’t show this kind of emotion, it was weakness something that could be taken advantage of. He quickly wiped it away on Burt’s sleeve only for the tear to be replaced by others, and more. Blaine could not remember the last time he cried, and now he wept. Rivers of tears flowed down his face the sweet reprieve after a storm. The tears weaving a path for people to be let in.

Burt’s almost suffocating embrace became softer. Was this what a hug felt like? Comforting, enveloping, warm. Kurt came over and rubbed his back. Blaine wept. Not understanding why they were still here. Not understanding why they hadn’t given up on him yet. Why they were showing such affection to someone like him. Someone who was always carelessly tossed away like unwanted garbage. Why did they care?

“We’re here for you, kid,” said Burt.

Kurt started rubbing slow circles on his back. The affection emanating from both Kurt and Burt for him was almost too much for Blaine. He retreated into his piano music as he just couldn’t comprehend what was going on.

Burt said, “We love you, Blaine. Okay?” At Burt's words he was knocked back to the present and he cried even harder. Why? How? Burt hugged him a little tighter then let go. Putting both hands on Blaine’s shoulders he looked him right into his tear filled eyes, “No more hurting yourself anymore, understand? If you feel sad, hurt, or angry you come to one of us. Alright? Do you understand?”

Blaine saw the caring in them, and couldn’t comprehend why. After all he had done. Blaine nodded. He cried.

For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to feel.