The razor glittered in the bright light as shaky fingers ran over the sharp blade. Sobs echoed off the walls and white tiled floors, crowding the small bathroom with the loud sound.

Kurt’s back hit the wall as he slid to the floor, his long fingers still tracing over the sharp edge. His vision was blurred as the tears spilled over his cheeks, his breath catching in his throat as he coughed out the loud cries. His knees pulled up to his chest as he stared at the razor before clenching his eyes shut and letting his head fall back to hit the wall, quieting himself as he took deep, shaky breaths to catch his breath back.

No one was home. No one was here to watch him breakdown again, to watch him fail himself, let down his family and Blaine. No one was here to save him. All he had was himself and that’s how it was ever going to be.

He knew that now as he opened his eyes, the air catching in his throat for a moment as a silent sob racked his body. His head moved away from the wall, his wet eyes looking forward, to the other side of the room where the marble sink was, the toilet.

He couldn’t keep his eyes closed. When he closed them no matter how hard he tried the vision of Blaine’s angry face crowded his sight. His loud voice would echo in his ears, pointing out the flaws he could see in him. Then just as quickly as that one would come it’d go, leaving a heart broken boy in it’s place. The hazel-green eyes wide and glassy, his curls unkempt from the many times his fingers had clawed through them. The sad, broken voice begging him for answers. Answers Kurt couldn’t give him.

He had tried to be strong. For his family, for his friends, for Blaine. But he had been broken too long. Broken longer than they thought, and was unrepairable. His life just kept taking a downward spiral and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

But that’s what the razor was for. That’s what would give him the strength he needed; that’s what would finally stop the downward spiral, the pain.

Kurt had stopped, but he needed this. He needed the sharp pain of the blade ripping into his skin to stop the dull pain that never left. He needed the numbness that followed. Needed the significance of the red against his pale skin.

No matter how hard he tried he wouldn’t be perfect. He wouldn’t be good enough for anyone. All he would be is trash. Trash to be used and rejected. Trash to be abused and broken. He was nothing, and he was now accepting that. But he believed he was stronger than that. He believed he was strong enough to stop the abuse, stop the feeling of uselessness. Though he also knew he wasn’t strong enough to survive this life, he never deserved this life. If he wasn’t strong enough to lead it, then he didn’t belong here. He knew he was strong enough to finally take away his burden, and finally be strong enough to pull away from the uselessness inside.

Kurt worried his lip between his teeth for a moment as a tear or two fell down his cheek. He shouldn’t have ever gotten attached. Should have never liked this boy, the boy who traipsed in and stole his broken heart in one quick step. The boy who tried to mend the pieces without knowing he was shattered and wasn’t able to be repaired. He should have been pulled away, shut him out even more. But no. He failed and let the boy in. And now here he was. Heartbroken. A liar. A cheater. A victim. A bully.

He placed his left hand wrist in front of his sight, resting it on his knee. He bent his hand back, letting the dark vein pop out and make it’s presence known. Kurt lifted a finger, running it along the fragile life source as he bit down a bit too hard on his lip. He ran his tongue along his now sore lip; just another pain to deal with. He trained his gaze on the metal in his hand as he pressed the blade into the skin on the side of his wrist. Pressing down a bit harder, he sighed, the familiar sharp pain of the blade breaking the skin taking place.

He knew how this worked. Don’t cut too deep, watch the vein, make sure not to hit it. He’d done it so many times. He knew that the pain would soon come back. The numbing pain of the cuts were never enough to keep the mental, internal pain that would take over once again.

But not this time.

Kurt didn’t hide these cuts, he wanted everyone to see what they did. To see the pain they had caused. This time he wasn’t going to watch how deep he went. This time he wasn’t going to be careful of the veins he knew were there.

This time the pain wouldn’t continue. This time the pain would end.

He had nothing else to live for; ruining his life piece by piece till he was left alone. He had no reason to keep on going. Had nothing to stop him from taking away his last breath.

He watched as the bright red blood trailed after the razor, oozing down his wrist as he cut along the skin. The vein was overlooked, his gaze growing fuzzy as he zoned out, letting the razor cut all the way through. The pain was beginning to numb, Kurt beginning to back away into his secluded mind, where he would stay, away from the pain and heart ache till it all ended. Till it all stopped.

He closed his eyes his hand moving mechanically, cutting in again. Blaine was there again, behind his closed eyelids. The moments of hate and heartbreak flashing back and forth in front of Kurt. He could hear the words, his voice, yelling and screaming. Wanting the truth. Wanting Kurt to finally stop lying.

“Why can’t you tell me what’s wrong! You’ve curled in on yourself and kept me out! Kurt, you need me, but you won’t let me help!”

Kurt felt the blade cut into a new piece of skin, a new jolt of pain rushing up his arm.

“I’m tired of you never telling me anything! What’s the point of having a relationship without trust. I’m over this, Kurt.”

I’m over this…, Kurt had taken that for Blaine breaking up with him. Of course, Kurt didn’t blame him. He never deserved him in the first place. He was damaged goods and did nothing but ruin Blaine’s life. He had been waiting for Blaine to finally break everything off with him.

“Why can’t you just tell me. Why won’t you let me in. Please. Let me help you.”

Kurt sucked in a breath, fumbling in the wet of his blood to grip the razor feebly in his already cut up hand. He cut into his right hand wrist quicker than last time, wanting things to hurry. Without opening his eyes he knew that blood was already covering him.

Blaine’s broken face was still in his mind, the statement said in the pleading, begging voice still echoing. But Kurt had just stared at the door behind Blaine, his hands curled around himself. He couldn’t let Blaine help him. All he’d do was break Blaine even more, and he couldn’t do that.

This was for the best.

Tears began to make their way down his face again, as he tried to let everything become numb. It wasn’t working quick enough.

The pain of hands against his body, the feel of cold lockers against his skin were beginning to crowd his mind. The screams, yells, taunts as everyone else made their way through the school day.

The feel of the lips against his neck; the rough hands against his face, arms, legs. The feel of the rough fingers against his hips, the fingers that had left disgusting bruises. The fingers that had uncaringly prepared him, prepared him for the pain and the guilt. His own muffled screams from the past filled his ears as he bit his tongue to stop present screams from bubbling up.

The horrible memories were making themselves known. Before Kurt finally went numb and was able to forget them, they were there to remind him of how much he had messed up. To remind him he was nothing but trash.

Finally Kurt felt the numbness take over. Felt the familiarness of everything leave his body, to leave him empty, emotionless.

But this was a new numbness, a numbness that would get worse. His memories were fading, his thoughts quiet and almost forgotten. He was oblivious to the things around him. He knew that soon, everything would be gone. The thoughts, the memories. Everything.

Far away, as if in another world, he heard sounds. Sounds like a door slamming, of loud foot steps. Which couldn’t be because no one was home, because no one cared.

Then he heard words, words he couldn’t make out but he knew they were words. The voice made it’s way to his eyes mixed and rearranged, not letting Kurt recognize, as if he was under water while the other was above ground.

But none of this mattered. His mind was just imagining this.

No one cared about him.

It was over now, and his mind had given Kurt what he wanted.

To hear Blaine’s voice once more time, even if he had just imagined it.

It’s what he wanted.

His thoughts had finally blanked, he had finally drifted into the complete numbness he had wanted to achieve.