I can’t help but feel touched when we pull up outside my house and Kurt tells me that it’s not too late to turn back around. After he’s driven me all this way, in the middle of the night, he’s telling me he can make me up a spare bed or I can share his, if I want to, and as tempting as that truly is, I can’t. I need to be here because I need Dalton and the only way I can have Dalton is if I can pay the fees. The only way I can pay the fees is if my father pays them and the only way I’ll know if my father pays them is if I stick around. I don’t say that to Kurt but that‘s the truth of it all. I’m not stupid, I know that my education matters, I know that an education like the one I get at Dalton is one in a million. I know that I have to take this opportunity so my dreams can shine that little bit brighter, so the skies in my mind are a little bit clearer. I have to be here for my future; it’ll give me the best start when I’ve finished school and I can finally start living.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.” I say as I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door. The cold night air hits my warmed skin and the shock of it sends shivers down my spine. There’s something beautiful about breathing in the fresh outdoor air, it fills me with hope, even if the air is so cold that it makes my lungs burn, it gives me that longing for life that I need.

When my feet meet the pavement I take a moment to look back at Kurt and Puck, I‘m hoping for a smile or two but instead I get a duo of apprehensive faces staring back at me. It makes me nervous when I realise they’re looking at me like that because they both know exactly what I’m walking back into. I feel bad that I haven’t given them more of a say in this and I know that they care about me, no matter what; so I suspect that I’m letting them down. I feel that me coming home, to this horrible house, is a sign that I’m giving up the ghost when I‘m not. I’m really not because for the first time in my life I’m going home with the knowledge that this isn’t a secret anymore. They’ve both freed me a little.

“Blaine, please, I’m not happy about this.” Kurt tries finally, as he reaches out a hand. A look of concern washing over his face and I can’t blame him, not at all, I get where the worry comes from, I do. If the situation was reversed I’d have him locked away safely in my room for the foreseeable future.

I can’t let the fact that they know change everything because realistically it changes nothing. I’m still Blaine Anderson and this is still my life.

“I have to be here.” I say softly and Kurt lets his hand fall down onto his lap, he looks disappointed as frown settles on his face. I don’t like it when he frowns, it makes me nervous. I‘m constantly concerned that he‘ll slip back over the fine line that we laid out together. The line that separates feeling okay from feeling awful. I need Kurt to be strong for me, he’s so empowering, when he’s around I feel like I can be okay again. I feel like I can do anything.

I want to ask Kurt to stop worrying about me, right now, I’m not worth being so stressed out about because I’ll live, I’ve lasted this long. I have dreams, I have hope, I have him, I even have Puck and I never expected that. Not in a million years. I never suspected that the kid who used to throw Kurt so heartlessly into dumpsters would be the most understanding, gentle human being in the entire world. I never expected him to be such a beautiful person, if I’ve discovered anything, it’s that you shouldn't prejudge the worth or value of something by its outward appearance alone. Puck turned out to be my diamond in the rough.

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” Puck interjects, as if he knows that I’m thinking about him and I have to smile at that. There’s nothing but sincerity in his voice. He’s got a big heart for all his boldness and I’m suddenly glad that he has such a great friend in Finn because he deserves a close relationship with another human being. In fact, Puck deserves happiness in every single form because tonight he has been there for me more than anyone else has ever been. He’s helped me be so honest with Kurt and I was too scared to do that by myself. I may never have found the guts to tell Kurt the truth were it not for Puck, I know that, I‘m astoundingly indebted. I owe him so much.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks.” I say in answer to Puck’s question because there is no way I’m letting them get out of the car. There is no way Puck’s putting a single foot on my garden path because if my father comes out of the front door I don’t know what will happen. I’d have absolutely no control over the situation and I need to have some control here, in my own house. I need to at least pretend I have control, if Puck gets hurt how can I justify my situation, how can I justify what my life has become?

“Seriously,” Puck starts again, “I’ll come with you.” he says but now his eyes are darker and it’s obvious that he’s trying to defend me, he’s telling me he wouldn’t mind coming face to face with my father but I would mind. I’d mind a lot. Though, I still can’t stop myself from staring at the primal glint in his eyes and wondering what if?

“There’s no point in us both getting cold.” I say to him and I hope that he understands what I’m trying to say to him because I’m not sure that I do. I do know that this isn’t Puck’s fight, though, I’m almost certain he’s had his own fight with a man just like my father at some point and that‘s enough for me. I wonder if I can be more like Puck one day, full of pluck and poise, I hope that I can. If I turn out to be barely half of the person Puck is I’d be very happy. I’d be so proud of myself and my own humility.

I look back to Kurt and he still looks seriously unconvinced. He’s sitting there like I’ve sentenced myself to death and I think that maybe he could be right but I don’t have a choice. He’s got such a solemn expression on his face that I almost want to climb back into his car and explain to him exactly why this is happening but I wouldn‘t know where to start.

“Kurt,“ I begin, “If you feel tired on the way home, pull over.” I say and it’s the same advice I’ve given him a thousand times before. He nods.

“Of course I will.” he says and the expression on his face changes into one of compassion. I close the car door. I expect them to drive off straight away, but of course they don’t, they don’t pull away until I’m in my house and I’ve closed the door behind me.

I stand in the hallway for a while, just listening for any signs of movement or life, but I can’t hear a thing. He’s probably out again, drinking in a bar with his backwards friends. I can’t help but wonder if his backwards friends have children and if they‘re my age or much younger. I wonder if there’s an eight year old kid out there tonight waiting for his or her father to come home and scare them half to death.

Statistically, I know that it’s likely and that’s probably what makes me feel so sick. The thought of a little kid hiding in a cupboard or under a bed or just praying that they’ll be okay breaks my heart. Why don’t regular people pick this stuff up? Where are the teachers and the friends and the strangers that catch a glimpse of something that’s not quite right? Why don’t they care? It will never get better, those people need to speak out because so what if you’ve made a mistake and you look foolish, if you’re right, if something wrong is happening you could save that kid from so many years of misery. Someone could have saved me.

I shake those thoughts from my head. I’m going to go up the stairs and work on a few songs, I’ve still got to finish recording Mrs Hiller’s song and it‘s sounding so beautiful. I can do that; then I can go to bed. I’ll slide my desk across the doorway and I‘ll go to sleep. I can rest and tomorrow can be my new start. The start of my truthful life.

I don’t even reach the top of the stairs when my pocket starts vibrating. I pull my phone out of my jeans and it tells me that I have a new message from Kurt. I stop still half-way up the stairs.

All I can think is that the message had better not be from Kurt because Kurt is driving and if he’s driving and texting at the same time I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s home safely. I open the message and I hold my breath.

Remember you have my number now. Stay safe. Puck & Kurt. X.

I sigh in relief and read it again, just to make sure everything is fine. I can breath again. I relax and type a reply. It’s short but it’s all that needs to be said.

Thank you.

I believe that deer get caught in headlights because their brains don’t react quick enough for them to escape the harsh beam of light that shoots from the darkness and precedes their death. There’s absolutely nothing they can do to move themselves away from the obvious danger that comes from standing frozen in the middle of a road. The response time just doesn’t exist.

I think that I’m the deer. I think I’ve always been the deer.

My eyes fly open when a crash fills my ears and I don’t have enough time to think, I just spring up and out of my bed in time to see my father burst through my door. The desk I used as a barricade crashes to the floor and the thud it creates shakes my knees as my heart starts to race and my possessions fly everywhere. I watch half-heartedly as my pens and pencils spin and roll across the floor.

My father’s shouting and screaming at me about something and it takes me a while to understand what he’s actually saying. I have difficultly finding that middle ground between his slurring and my awakening. I feel dazed and the sunlight coming into the room is dazzling. I can barely open my eyes. I’m squinting towards the door and my head is killing me.

When my father gets closer to me he’s much easier to understand, in fact what he’s saying is unmistakable, “You left me here to fuck that disgusting boy!”

My jaw tightens instinctively. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before, because we have, and it was only last night. He mutters something predictably insulting about ‘faggots’ and HIV and dying slowly and I wonder how I’m related to such a monster. I want to shove his ignorance back in his face but I don’t because I’m better than that and I am certainly better than him.

His feet tread heavily as they pound the floorboards and he’s clinging to the wall with bent fingers on his way over to me. It’s too early for this. I look at my clock, it’s only half six.

“I told you I was going out.” I try calmly and he just glares at me, his face etched with hatred and distaste. I can’t help but question where his hate for me comes from because honestly I can’t quite work out why I disgust him so much. I know he hates ‘faggots‘, he tells me that everyday, but why did he hate me when I was so young? Sexuality was the last thing on my mind when I was eight, I spent most of my eighth year crying over my mother and hiding from my father. I didn’t have the time to be gay or straight or bisexual or a child, for that matter. I feel a little cheated.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me, you shit!” he spits and I suddenly realise that yet again I can’t win. Whatever words I choose, they’ll be the wrong words, whatever action I take, it‘ll be the wrong action. I doubt that I can do anything to appease him and placate this situation. I don’t think that anything I do could make him go away and leave me alone. Nothing.

“I’m not lying.” I say hopefully as his hands grab at my shoulders. I can smell it then, the familiar mix of urine, cigars and alcohol. I feel sick as his fingers dig deep into my skin. He’s being unnecessarily heavy handed again.

“Tell me, was he worth it, your dirty little queer?!” He shouts and I grit my jaw harshly. Kurt would be worth anything absolutely anything. And one things for certain, Kurt is worth more to me than my father will ever mean to anyone. I feel resentment rising in my chest. I won’t back down. I’m scared but I can’t just let him bully me like this.

“You‘re so fucking ignorant.” I say and I completely hate him in that moment, I absolutely detest him. I abhor his vulgarity, his inhumanity and everything he stands for. He’s utterly repulsive with his big hands pushing me around as he talks so horribly about a boy who means so much to me. Has he forgotten what it feels like to care about someone so much that your heart pounds as soon as you see them? Has he forgotten what love feels like?

“You stupid shit! You don‘t talk to me like that! Understand?!” He snarls and it’s then that he pushes me backwards and up against the window. My back hits the cold glass and I can’t help but wince because he really could kill me now. One hefty push and I could go straight through the pane and hit the ground, two stories down.

A lump forms in my throat, I don’t want to die like this. A battered body left in a glassy heap to be found by a neighbour who’ll just wish they’d seen what had been going on for so long. I don’t want to break someone’s heart with the sight of my tired, broken dead body, what if a child finds me? My eyes start to fill. No. This can’t happen, not like this.

“Dad, please, stop. I’m your son.” I try desperately and it doesn’t stop him dead, not this time. It doesn’t seem to make an ounce of difference. He lifts me forwards and I hold my breath as he thrusts me back against the glass with a whack.

“You’re a filthy fag, you’re not my son!” He shouts and I don’t know what I can say to make this better now. I don’t know how I can save my own life and that scares me more than anything. There has always been a door or an exit or a word but now, in this moment, there is nothing. I start to panic.

“What did I do?” I whisper as he pushes me back into the glass again because if he is going to kill me I’d like to know. I’d like to know what I’ve done that’s so terrible. What about me is so irredeemable that I deserve to die.

He doesn’t answer me, of course he doesn’t, instead he punches me straight in the stomach. I double over and I’m gasping as he grabs the back of my neck and throws me to my knees. I can feel the skin rip of them. The rush of pain that shoots through my chest is agonising but the sense of relief I feel now I‘m away from that window is immeasurable.

“You do not talk to me like that!” He shouts and as I turn around to look at him he spits right in my face. It hits my cheek and starts to slip down my face with the tears I started to cry at some point. I want to vomit.

I reach up to wipe away his spit and I have never felt so belittled in my life, never. I have never ever felt so far away from home. I brace myself for more but it never comes and eventually he stumbles off down the stairs and out the front door.

I’m left kneeling on the floor of my bedroom, with pain pulsing through my body and I wonder once more what I’ve done to deserve any of this. Wasn’t I a good enough child?

Some people say that when you’re truly down-and-out the only person who can pick you back up is yourself. I’d like to ask these people what they suggest doing when you’ve been down-and-out one too many times because I really have no idea. Not anymore.

A part of me wants to just lie down on the floor and drift away, and who knows, maybe if I hold my breath for long enough I‘ll just die peacefully. I’d beat being battered to death.

Another part of me wants me to pull myself together and get ready for school because people care about me there and even though I want to just go away I matter to them. I don’t think I have it in me to hurt them, any of them, especially Kurt. Not now he knows. He looked sad enough driving me back here last night, if I just laid down and died what would that do to him? It’d destroy him. I can’t ruin his life.

It’s decided then, I’m choosing life.

I pick myself up and walk over to the door, it takes me longer than I’d like to admit but I get there and that’s what matters. I push the desk back up against the door, gather my phone from under a mass of paper and barricade myself back inside. It’s still too early for school, I decide to lie on my bed for a while longer. Hopefully I can find a position that doesn’t hurt.

When I climb back into bed I wrap myself in the covers and try to relax but I still can’t shake the sinking feeling that I have in my heart. I’ve never felt like this before, I feel so dehumanised. I’m not sure if it’s because he spat on me or if it’s because my father genuinely seems to have lost that filter that tells him to stop when he could actually kill me. I need to talk to someone, I need to hear a voice that doesn’t detest me, I need someone to tell me that I matter.

I need to phone Puck.

I reach under my pillow and I pull out Puck’s number before I raise my phone and I dial his number. It rings and rings and rings and I feel increasingly stupid. Why would he answer his phone this early in the morning? I’ve been so foolish, I need to hang up before I wake him, he doesn’t need my drama.

I move the phone away from my ear and it’s then, when I’m about to disconnect the call, that I hear him speak, “This is Puckzilla.”

I have never felt so relieved to hear a voice in my life, a solitary tear slips down my face and I press the phone into my cheek. I’m clinging to it like it’s my only lifeline and in a way it is.

“Puck.” I say and my heart pounds.

I stare at the ceiling as I wait for him to respond and I try not to weep because I’ve cried far too much lately and it can’t be healthy.

“Blaine?” He asks eventually and he already sounds so serious. A shaky breath escapes me.

“Hey.” I say and I want to tell him that I’m fine and that he doesn’t have to listen to me if he doesn’t want to but I can’t because it’s comforting- knowing that he’s listening to what I have to say even when he‘s not physically with me.

“Blaine.” he starts, “Are you okay?” His voice sounds a little off, he sounds unsure of himself.

I start mumbling apologies, “It’s too early, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No. I was already awake.” He cuts in quickly and he’s obviously trying to reassure me. I’m thankful because it works.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” I say.

“Has he hurt you?” he asks and I can hear a growl in his voice. My heart starts to pound.

“I’ll be okay. I just, I wanted, I don’t-”

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He says and his tone is lighter, loftier, more comforting.

“I just wanted to hear someone, you know?” I say and I know how childish it sounds but it’s the truth.

“I get it. Do you want to tell me about it? Or I can tell you about what I’ve been doing this morning, if it helps?” He offers and a new wave of relief washes over me. I’m amazed at how he just knows what I need.

I hear a voice in the background and I freeze. I suddenly remember where he is, “You’re at Kurt’s.”

“Yeah, but it‘s totally fine. Kurt’s still in the shower, Finn’s fast asleep, so is Carole and Burt‘s just out on his way to work. No one can hear us. Blaine, do you understand? It‘s just us. I swear. I wouldn‘t lie to you.” I have to believe him, of course I do.

“I’m sorry.” I say and I don’t even know why. I feel like such a child.

“Blaine, you have to stop apologising for things you haven‘t done.” he says softly and suddenly it sounds a lot quieter on his end, like he’s tucked himself away somewhere. He really does care.

“I thought-” I start but I can’t finish. This is very confusing for me, having someone to talk to about my situation. I’m not used to it.

“What did you think? You can say what you want, Blaine, I won’t judge you or anything. I‘m not that guy.” He says and I wonder how he became so wise and so clever. I wonder if I’ll be this wise and this clever when I leave here.

“I thought I was-”

“Go on.”

“I thought I was going to… die today.” I’m whispering but the weight of it all just leaves me.

I feel like I can see that bit of hurt exiting my body and rising through the roof. I won’t miss it.

“I‘m so sorry, we should never have left you there. Has he gone now?” He asks and he sounds so remorseful. My eyes fill again.

“Y-yeah., he‘s gone.” I say and I can hear him exhale in relief.

“Okay. Go and get dressed and go straight to school. You‘ll be super early but you‘ll be safe there.” He offers and I’m nodding in agreement- even though he can’t see me. I don’t mind being early, I’ll just be there before Kurt for a change. Kurt.

“What am I going to say to Kurt?” I ask and the phone is still pressed into my face.

“You’re going to tell him what you want to tell him.”

“I’m tired of lying to him.”

“Then just tell him the truth.” he confirms and things seem a little brighter.

“Thank you.”

“Try and have a good day with Kurt, okay, he makes everything seem better.”

“I will. Good bye.”

“Don‘t be afraid to call me. Take care of yourself. Bye, Blaine.”

I disconnect the call and by the time I’m dressed in my uniform, and I‘ve tidied the mess my father made of my room, I’m only half an hour early.

My neck is well coated in concealer, my bag is placed over my shoulder and I’m ready to go.

I’m barely out of my front door when my phone vibrates and tells me that I have a new message from Puck.

I open it and my heart stops because there is no way Kurt told him about the messages I used to send him. I have to close the message and open it again, several times, before I believe it.

It‘s there, that one word, it‘s real and it means the world to me.

COURAGE.

I pocket my phone and I smile. I can turn today around, I can make today a good day. This is what I’ve been searching for.

This is my new beginning.