Hymount 2B

Chapter One: Even Losers Have to Eat

Kurt carefully scanned over his body in the mirror, turning every so often to check every angle for any undesired features. He pinched some of the very little body fat he had on his stomach between his fingers on one hand, as he held his shirt halfway up with the other. He frowned in disgust at himself, but more so at the memory of how he had come to be here.

Earlier that month:

Today, Kurt decided he would attempt to eat an actual meal at school WITHOUT running tothe toilet afterwards. He went all out and chose whatever food smelled the most appetizing. With his tray full of sugary and greasy food, he made his way towards the door to find a deserted area where he wouldn't be bothered and could eat in peace. He had almost made it to the stairs in the math building that he usually ate under before he saw a figure coming his way out of the corner of his eye.

Kurt gasped and held his breath as Dave Karofsky made his way towards him. He stood frozen in the middle of the empty hallway, mentally swearing at himself for not taking a shortcut earlier. Kurt closed his eyes, and tried to plan out an excuse to tell his Dad if the football player gave him anymore visible bruises. He hates to even imagine the look of concern on his Father's face. Sometimes he almost hated how much his Dad cared. Remembering what was happening, Kurt snapped out of the thoughts that were racing through his head and back into reality. Dave stepped within inches of the fragile boy's terrified face.

"What's happening, homo-Hummel?" Dave teased while pushing up the sleeves of his letterman jacket up to his elbows. Opening his eyes, Kurt looked up at the jock that towered over him, bracing himself for what would inevitablycome. Dave glanced down at the food Kurt had been carrying. He let out a chuckle of amusement at the sight of Kurt holding that much food. "And what do you think you're doing with all that food, huh, Hummel?"

The countertenor opened his mouth to respond, but he was too frightened for any sound to come out. Instead, he just stood frozen, staring at the football player. For some reason, Dave found this sight quite humorous and laughed at the small, trembling boy. Kurt slowly began to back away from Dave as he walked closer, and closer, until he had Kurt's back up against the wall.

Dave snatched the burger that was wrapped up in foil from his tray and started to unwrap it. "Thanks for the burger, homo," he sneered before he took a bite. "Good thing it was all wrapped up, or else I could catch some of your gayness. That's the last type of epidemic that anyone wants spread around the school." Dave laughed with a mouthful of food before he turned on a heel to walk away.

"I really wanted to eat that," Kurt whispered, voice small and barely audible. He quickly regretted saying anything when the jock suddenly stopped and slowly turned around to face him again.

"Oh, well, my apologies, fag! I had no idea!" Even after hearing Dave's cruel words so many times, it stung just as badly as it did the first time. "Here," Dave spat on the half-eaten burger and tossed it back down on the bright orange tray Kurt had still been holding. "I guess even losers have to eat."

Kurt stood still in the middle of the empty hallway, watching the letterman jacket retreat down the hallway until it disappeared around the corner. Maybe today wasn't a good day to eat, after all. The teen began to feel weak, physically and emotionally.

He ignored the sound of his stomach growling, battled the urge to start crying again, and began walking almost absently.

He picked up speed as he moved, willing his trembling legs to move as fast as they could. Only stopping to pitch his uneaten food into the nearest garbage can, along with the bright orange tray, Kurt choked back a sob and focused on getting to the girl's bathroom before tears could escape down his porcelain cheeks. He kept his head down as he went, avoiding eye contact with anyone who may be wandering around in the hallway.

Kurt made to the girl's restroom just before tears began pouring from his eyes. He burst into one of the empty stalls, locking the door behind him. Even though he hadn't eaten anything in almost two days, he only felt sick to his stomach, turning to the toilet when he felt he was about to upchuck whatever he had left in his stomach. This time, he wasn't purposely trying to throw up. He wasn't sure whether he should be happy about that or disappointed in himself for thinking he could get away with eating anything. The sound of his sobs he released between gags filled the empty restroom.

Despite how much he was gagging, nothing came up. Kurt couldn't help but feel slightly angry about this. His frigid body slid down the stall's grey wall, before resting on the cold tile. At this point, Kurt didn't care how disgusting and gross the floor was. In fact, he probably deserved it, seeing how disgusting and gross he also was. Reaching into his bag, he pulled a small makeup bag. After unzipping it, he pulled out an X-Acto knife he kept in there, among other sharp objects. With trembling fingers, he pulled up his shirt halfway and began to make 10 cuts; one for each mistake.

One cut for being stupid enough to think he could eat.

Four cuts for buying a burger, fries, a cookie and milk that wasn't nonfat.

One cut for not taking the shortcut.

One cut for making that stupid comment to Dave.

One cut for crying because he's so weak.

One cut for not being able to even throw up.

And one deep cut for letting his Dad down.

Burt Hummel had said nobody pushes the Hummels around. But Kurt could never tell his Father that; he was too sick. The last thing he needs to worry about is his gay son's problems at school; they would just stress him out even more. People shouldn't ever have to worry about some gay freak like him. It's not like he matters at all, or anything.

Kurt wiped the tears from his face and quickly began to gather up everything into his bag. He unlocked the stall door and walked out into the still empty restroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, noticing his eyes were still red from crying.

"Pathetic," he thought to himself.

He cautiously peaked out of the restroom, making sure he was safe to exit. The halls were crowded enough that he would hopefully be able to blend in. The tall boy quickly stepped out of the girl's restroom and made his way into the mob of loud students. He fiddled with his designer shoulder bag as he kept his head down, hoping to be unnoticed by anyone who wanted to hurt him. Was it bad he almost wanted someone to hurt him? Then, at least, he wouldn't have to keep doing it to himself.

Nearly making it to his next class was probably the worst feeling. Kurt believed he had gotten so far, so close to safety. Then, all of his hard efforts meant nothing. He knew he had ultimately failed when the back of his head suddenly collided with one of the many lockers in the busy hallway.

"Oops!" somebody called out sarcastically. "Sorry, homo. Didn't see you there!"

The countertenor opened his eyes to find Azimo high-fiving Dave, along with some other football players standing together. He rubbed the back of his aching head and began to stand up, only to be shoved back down by another set of strong hands.

"Dude, come on! Cut it out!" he heard another voice shout. "Leave the poor kid alone!"

"Yeah, I think Finn is right," Dave sarcastically replied. "As long as Hudson is dating this princess, it's only fair he gets the same treatment." With that, Karofsky gave the taller jock a shove.

"Enough!" someone else yelled. "I'm tired of this crap! Kurt didn't do anything to you! If anyone is going to get shoved around, it should be you!"

"Aw, would you look at this," Karofsky cooed sarcastically. "Fairy boy is getting all the ladies today! He's got Hudson AND Puckerman fighting over him!"

"I mean it, Karofsky!" Puck threatened. "Leave Kurt alone, or you'll have me and the rest of the guys in glee club to deal with."

"Oh! I'm so scared!" Karofsky mocked.

"Come on, guys," Azimo called out. "Let's leave these ladies to themselves. They're probably gonna go sing about their feelings or some shit."

"Yeah," Dave agreed. "The last thing we would want is a gay epidemic at this school." Azimo and the other jocks laughed and threw each other some high fives.

"Good one," Azimo said, still laughing. "We better start getting some vaccines for that shit!" Their cruel laughs echoed through the now almost empty hallway.

Kurt still sat on the floor against the locker he had been previously shoved into; his legs tucked against his chest his wrapped his arms around them. The fragile boy began to fight back the tears filling his eyes. He had just ducked his head down against his knees when he heard someone speak.

"Kurt," a voice called out. The countertenor flinched and lifted his head, only to find Noah Puckerman standing in front of him with an outstretched hand. "You okay, dude?"

"I'll be fine," Kurt weakly assured him. He took Puck's hand that helped pull him up. "Thanks for sticking up for me like that. It means a lot, but you didn't have to do that for me."

"Are you kidding me?" Puck said, shocked. "They were being complete assholes to you! You can't expect me to just stand there and watch."

Kurt nodded weakly, not sure how to respond to that. He glanced around the hallway, but noticed there was no sign of Finn anywhere. Tonight Finn would probably once again pretend that he has no clue where all these bruises came from while Burt worried and became more stressed out than he should. Then he would tell Finn to look out for Kurt, and Finn will nod and promise Burt that he would. Then, Finn would lie straight to his face all over again the next day.

"You don't look too good, man," Puck pointed out the obvious. He glanced around the hallway, before leading the small teen down the hallway. "Let's get you some food. You look like you're starving!"

Kurt really didn't want to eat today.

"Son, Carol is done with dinner! Are you going to eat late again or should I have her make you a plate?" Burt shouted from the bottom of the stairs. Kurt almost felt guilty for lying to his dad about his eating habits. Every night he told his father that he wasn't hungry until later at night, but he actually never ate at all.

"Yeah, Dad! I'm going to eat late again!" He shouted so he would be heard by his father at the bottom of the stairs.

"Okay, Kurt! Just don't stay up too late!" Burt warned his son before returning to the kitchen to make his own plate.

Kurt looked back to the figure in the mirror he had been staring at. He ran his free hand over the lines that covered his chest and stomach. They varied from fresh and bleeding to recent and healing to fading, though still visible, bumpy scars.

I guess even losers have to eat.

I guess even losers have to eat.

I guess even losers have to eat.

It kept repeating over and over again in his head. He couldn't get it to stop and it was driving him insane. Then he thought of a solution.

"I will always be a loser," Kurt thought. "But losers don't have to worry about eating when they aren't breathing. That seems to be what most of the kids at school would prefer anyway."