That was the mantra going through Blaine's head as he scrubbed at his hands furiously. Fuck. It was even under his nails!

He scrubbed harder.

Get it off. Get if off. Get the fucking blood off!�

Blaine's hands were red and raw underneath the boiling water from his sink. He had no idea how he ended up with a bloody face or blood covered hands but he was panicking. His heart raced under his skin, clouding his mind with dread and anxiety.

Blaine couldn't recall very much from the previous night at all. He couldn't remember what happened after the Sadie Hawkins dance, couldn't remember how he got home and certainly couldn't remember how his face and hands got coated in blood.�

The smell of old, stale, blood was filling the air, making Blaine nauseous. His heart was beating a million miles an hour. His entire body ached; his head was throbbing, he had a spilt lip and his ribs ached with every minuscule movement.�

What the fuck had happened to him?

Blaine cupped his hands underneath his tap and splashed water on his face. It didn't look like him in the mirror. Dried, brown blood covered his skin like mud. He wet his loofah and wiped his face a few times before rinsing it underwater again. The water ran out a light brown. Blaine swallowed down the small bit of food that tried to come back up his throat. Dropping his loofah in the sink, he reached over and turned on the taps for his shower; full blast. The hotter the better. He felt disgusting. He felt dirty. His body trembled. His skin was crawling.�

Blaine peeled off his grubby clothes and hopped under the hot water, steam rising and fogging the mirror. Within minutes steam had filled Blaine's small bathroom, heat encompassing him. He slid down the wall, brought his knees to his chest and rested his head atop of them.�

He just needed to remember.

Think, Blaine.

The water pounded onto Blaine's back as he racked his brain, trying to find his memories from the previous night.

"How dare you!"

Blaine let out a whimper of pain. Just remembering that part hurt his head. Was that Todd? That voice? Blaine clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath.�

He sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his wet curls. His head thudded with memories pressed right up against his mind, knocking on the door, telling him they were there, but running away before Blaine could catch them.

He stayed under the spray of the shower until the water went cold.

Like a zombie, Blaine slowly made his way to his kitchen after his shower. Wearing only tracksuit pants and an old tee, he grabbed some cereal and poured some in his bowl before getting the milk. He had no energy. His skin was raw and sensitive and his head felt like someone had smashed it against the pavement, but considering Blaine couldn't actually remember what had happened, that was a fair call.�

He dawdled into his living room and sat on the lounge, feet up on the coffee table and cereal in his lap. He turned on the television, flicking channels slowly until he landed on the news. It was some boring agricultural thing being shown and Blaine zoned out. He didn't care about that. He's half dreaming into his breakfast when an update from an earlier news story comes up. It's a woman in her mid-thirties, plain blazer and shirt, rather dull brown hair; there's nothing extraordinary about her but Blaine is drawn in by her words. They call out to him, bash bells in his head until all Blaine can hear are sirens.�

"A young man's body is still yet to be identified from the brutal murder that occurred last night outside one of the local public high schools. Police were blaming a savage animal this morning when the body was first seen by a coroner but the claw marks on the victim have been identified as human. This both mystified and horrified the detectives working on this terrible case."

Blaine's eyes were as wide as the moon, his hand gripping his spoon tightly in his hand like a vice and his heart was thumping in his chest erratically.��

No.

Blaine's eyes were frozen on the television screen as the news showed picture after picture and short footage after short footage of the murder scene. A picture of the back of Blaine's high school, a picture of blood splatter on the concrete, a picture of a blanket covered body and then a short clip from a far distance of the scene, a man in a white suit washing the blood away with the hose from a firetruck.�

"Police are calling this the most gruesome murder they have ever had in the history of this town."

Blaine dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl, slammed it on the coffee table and ran to the kitchen and vomited in the sink. After a few more retches and dry gags, Blaine wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turned around and slid down the cabinet of his kitchen.�

He couldn't think. The pictures from the television were burning his eyes from the inside. They infected his body, making his skin crawl. Blaine felt dirty. He felt foul. He couldn't have possibly hurt than boy. Couldn't have possibly clawed at him...at...Todd? Blaine had a sudden epiphany, linking the small bit of information he remembered from last night to what the news reporter has said and he clenched his fingers into a fist. Todd Harrison. He let out a choked sob. He killed Todd Harrison.

Blaine Anderson killed Todd Harrison.

Blaine Anderson, son of a loving mother and successful father, had clawed his fingers into Todd Harrison's skin and had made him bleed. Blaine Anderson, straight A student, watched as Todd Harrison struggled to breathe beneath his hands. Blaine Anderson, who had a great future ahead of him, watched as Todd Harrison went limp under his body.�

Blaine Anderson killed Todd Harrison.�

He had no idea how long he sat there, resting against the cupboard, but eventually, Blaine picked himself up off the floor and numbly stumbled to his bedroom. He collapsed on his bed and stared up at his ceiling. It took him a long time but he fell asleep.

When he did, he dreamt of nightmares and of Todd.�

___________________________________________________________________________

March 2011

Kurt Hummel stood on the grand staircase of Dalton Academy School for Boys and looked around in both awe and confusion. How was he ever supposed to find his way through this giant labyrinth?�

"Excuse me?" he asked politely and a short, average looking boy turned around. "I'm new here."

Blaine looked up to the beautiful face before him and his heart dropped to his feet.�

"My name's Blaine," he replied and tried to act normal. The demon inside him swirled, making Blaine's blood rush.�

"Kurt," the other boy said and shook the outstretched hand Blaine held out. As their fingers touched, Blaine knew he was in deep, deep trouble. The demon stirred inside him, roaring with pleasure.�He felt the demon push to the surface, taking over his body and Blaine wanted to cry out and stop it. The bright shine of Kurt's eyes was the last thing he remembered seeing.

The next thing Blaine knew, he was having coffee with Kurt and two of his friends from the Warblers, David and Wes. �

The fucking demon, Blaine growled in his head with annoyance and he felt it laugh inside him.�

It was happy.�

Blaine looked up at Kurt and tried to hide his grimace when he felt the demon thrum inside him with desire.

This would end badly.