Three hours of running around aimlessly in the dark, I knew I needed to head back. It's not that I didn't want to, except that it is. I don't want to see the faces of my friends or my boyfriend. If I can even call them that anymore. I know if I don't go now, I never will. I find my way back to the garden entrance, shift back and look at my surroundings. The images from before flash in my mind; Santana, fighting, something controlling me, Blaine against the wall, faces that show fear staring back at me. I feel a drip down my face and I'm not surprised I'm crying again. I feel sick; I'm not the one who should be in tears. I did the damage; I have no right to cry. That knowledge doesn't stop me.
Shuffling along, head down and hands in my pockets, I take my time walking the halls back to the dorm. I'm not in any hurry to see anyone I know. I walk past the room in which the dance was held, empty now. It's got to be about 2am. Glittering pieces scattering the floor, my mind goes back to dancing with Blaine. Feeling so in love that nothing could take away what we have. How wrong I was. I feel the pressure behind my eyes, signalling tears and walk into the hall. I sit in the middle of the room, surrounded by these little pieces of paper; I think that they're a bit like my life, each resembling some sort of hope, or dream, for a future with Blaine, with my friends. They were high up, unreachable, safe, happy. And in one moment, a disruption caused them to fall and now they lie lifeless, partly broken on the floor. I put my head in my hands and let out every emotion. When I get back to my room, I don't want Blaine to see me crying. I don't deserve it, I remind myself. 

It's dark, not one bit of light. I shut the door, looking around for anything going on that's unusual but there's nothing. Blaine's side of the room is in total darkness and I can just make out a figure in the bed. He's asleep. As quietly as possible, I change and get into bed, not even sparing a second thought to my suit that I've just dumped on the floor. I do a quick scan of my desk, to see if a note has been left , but there’s nothing. 'Why would he leave a note? After what you did to him,' that voice, the taunting one, is inside my head again. Not like before though, because this time I know it's my conscious  It's right. Still, I grab my phone and slip under the blankets, pulling them over my head to make sure I don't disturb Blaine. 
I unlock the screen and I don't know what I was expecting but there's no texts, no voicemails, no missed calls. Nothing. I put the phone down, roll over and try to get some sleep. 
I wake up after a restless night, filled with nightmares of me, turning into a monster, that I never want to see again. Normally I say to myself, after a nightmare, that it was only a dream. But this time my nightmare is going to continue in real life. Blaine's not in his bed. Or anywhere else in the room. His bed is made, the lingering smell of coffee in the air. I rub my hands over my face and head to the bathroom. I look terrible. I'm met in the mirror with a pale face, paler than normal, dark rings under my eyes and the evidence from the fight; a long cut along my cheek and one on my neck. My hair is plastered to my head, dried droplets of sweat on my forehead from the night. I fill the sink with cold water and let my head drop into the icy bath. Part of me wants to stay there and let myself drown but the other, survival part of me is stronger and knows that that would be the cowardly way out. I whip my head up, gasping for air and coughing up water. 

I dress in sweats and a hoodie, slipping on converse and not even bothering to cover my injuries because frankly, I don't give a damn about how I look. I brush my hair up so it's away from my face before I start debating on what to do. I can't stay in the room all day – if I do, it'll be obvious I'm hiding. Let's face it; everyone in the dorm is going to know what happened last night by now. I gather all of my courage, grabbing my phone and heading out of the room.

I have no idea why I did it, but I went to the common room. I should've expected the reaction I got. All conversation stopped, all eyes turning to me. I glance around for a brief second before I pull my hood up and walk over to the kitchen area. I really need coffee, if I'm going to get through this. I try to ignore the stares but even with my back to everyone, I can feel their eyes. I start the coffee maker, turning and leaning against the counter. As soon as I turn, the whole room jumps and goes back to their conversations, quickly. All, apart from one. Blaine is still looking at me, book in hand. I meet his gaze and he looks down straight away. I want to cry again, but it isn't sad crying anymore. It's crying with anger. The anger I feel towards myself. The coffee maker beeps and as soon as I turn, the whispers start. 
"Did you see his cuts?"
"I can't believe he did that to Blaine."
"Maybe he is turning into Sebastian, after all."
That makes me lose it. I throw the cup to the ground, smashing it to pieces. I don't even realize, the anger taking control again. Shocked and disgusted faces meet me and I can't take it anymore. I storm out, slamming the door behind me.

I don't even realise where I'm going, my body on autopilot. I stop when I reach a set of double doors. I've walked out to the training centre. It must be an automatic response to getting angry. If i'm angry, I usually train, getting it out of my body without hurting anyone else. It's empty when I enter. No-one from our dorm likes to do any extra training. I dive straight in, throwing weights and doing target practice, trying to get it out of me. I hate this about myself, hate that I get so angry. I blame my past. If people weren't such assholes to me before, maybe I wouldn't be like this. But I can't blame anyone but myself. I'm so focussed on my thoughts and the fire beginning in my hands, I don't notice when someone enters. A throat clears and I turn, shocked. "Can I talk to you?" I didn't expect anyone to come after me, let alone to talk to me. Especially not him. I put out the fire and lower my hood.
"Sure, Finn," and he gestures to the benches. I make sure I sit an arms-length away from him. He seems to notice and looks sad.
"Look, Kurt, I know what happened. As you can probably tell, everyone does."
I nod, but feel the need to ask."Who told you?" I don't raise my eyes, not able to look at him without bursting into tears.

"Rachel. And Santana," Finn looked down to his hands, "They were pretty shaken up. Blaine tried to stop them but they insisted that we needed to know. To be fair, Blaine looked the worst and I guess we know why… now." 
"You didn't need to know. It had nothing to do with any of you. Now you all think I'm a monster." I whisper, harshly. I know keeping my voice at this level will help me to stay calm. 
"I don't think you're a monster," I look up and see only sincerity on Finn's face. He looks like he really cares. 
"Everyone else does. And I don't blame them." I drop my head again, bring my hands up for it to rest in. 
"I look at it like this; I heard the story. But I heard all of it, not just the bits that made you sound bad. Those parts are the ones that everyone seemed to pick up on."
I didn't understand and it must've shown.
"I know what you did to Blaine and it was bad," I flinch, "But you also did a lot of good that night."
"None of us realised what was happening – we didn't see Santana getting dragged out. You did. You went after her and fought for her. If I'm being honest, she's being a bitch to you, considering what you did for her. Who knows what would've happened, had you not been there." I start to feel a little lighter. 
"Dude, you're like a hero, with a dark side. You just need to control it." 
"It's not that easy, Finn. I have been trying, all my training with Sue is that."
"But it isn't the right training. It didn't prepare you for what happened. You lost your anchor and when you found it, it was too late.“

With Finn's words, memories of me feeling so overwhelmed with power rush back. But, as soon as I heard the panicked voice of Rachel shouting Blaine, the feeling had stopped, because Blaine is my anchor. 
"Look, I know you've been getting Sue's help, but I want to try. I want to train you, the right way, so if anything happens again, you can use your anchor to protect him and not… you know, throw him against the wall."
"This is all very nice of you, Finn, but how are you going to help? No offense, but you're not the…" I pause, "brightest."
His expression is sad, almost making me apologise, but this sadness wasn't from my words, but from previous sadness. 
"My dad was like you. My mom was his anchor. But, he wasn't trained right and power send him mad. He hurt her, badly. And when he'd realised what he did, he ran away and committed suicide. I-" Finn paused, taking a deep breath, "I don't want that to happen to you. So, let me help" 
"Finn," I want to put an arm around him, but I don't, "I'm so sorry."
We sit in silence for a while, before he stands. 
"Look, I have to go and meet Rachel. I won't tell her, just, please, consider?"
I didn't even have to think. I would get Finn's help because deep down, I knew he's the one with the most faith. 
I really need to lie down. 

I push the door to my room open, not noticing Blaine until I lift my head. He sees me, sadness in his face. But also, fear. The sick feeling reappears. 

I walk into the room, feeling Blaine's eyes follow me. He seems to be focussing on my head and neck, sadness in his eyes at my wounds. I know Blaine well enough to know he isn't mostly sad, or hurt, himself, but for me. It's the same expression from my attack earlier in the year. 
It all seems to disappear as he realises he can't be in the same room as me and picks his bag up, rushing to the door. 
"Blaine, wait," I didn't plan to speak to him. He freezes, hand on the handle of the door.
"We need to speak. I need to explain. I'm… I'm so, so sorry. I love-"
It's the first time I've heard him speak since the previous night.
"I can't do this."
And with those four words, he leaves. 
And with those four words, I completely break down on the floor and cry.