Kurt Hummel was not a victim. His father had raised him to be strong, to fight instead of flee – so why was he here now, laying in a hospital bed, stomach pumped of all the pills he had taken, right forearm wrapped in a sterile white bandage? Why was he thirteen hours away from escaping from a mandatory seventy-two hour suicide watch? Why was Mercedes staring at him from outside the room, pain and disappointment and confusion in her eyes? Why was Brittany sobbing in a silently crying Santana's arms? Why was Puck sitting staring at nothing, numbness in his eyes? Why was Rachel, eyes rimmed red, curled up on abenchwhile Finn held her, looking lost and scared? Why was Carole glancing at him sympathetically, why was Mr. Schuester staring at him like he didn't know him? Why, why,why, why –

"Kurt."

The boy glanced up at his father. "Yeah, Dad?" He asked, cautious.

"Just – oh God, kid, why would you do something like this?" Kurt flinched at the desperation in his father's voice – that want, theneedto understand. There was so much pain in his voice and in that moment Kurt hated himself just a little bit for what he'd done to his father. How had he not thought of how his dad would feel, how his friends would feel? Was he really that fucking selfish?

Kurt took a deep breath. Why had he done it?

He'd done it because he was so fucking done. He was done with the insults, with thedumpstertosses, with the hate. He was done with knowing that nobody wanted him there, done with living with the fact that the world would be better off without him. He was done with Finn still flinching when Kurt got just a little bit too close, and done with Rachel's hissy fits when she didn't get a solo she wanted. He was done with the bruises mottling his back from the constant locker slams and done with the fear. He was done with the pitying looks and the sympathy from teachers who never tried to do anything about it, and he was done with the "I'm sorry I can't do more," and the "My hands are tied," and the "I wish there was something I could do to help." He was finally giving them what they all wanted.

"I was just...I couldn't take it anymore. People – peoplehateme, Dad, just because I love differently. I couldn't take it anymore."

"You're not going back there," Burt said forcefully. "I'm not letting you go back to that place again, not when it does –this– to you. I – Do you remember Dalton Academy? The private school in Westerville? I enrolled you there."

"Dad, no! Do you realize how expensive tuition is there? There's no way you can afford it!" Kurt exclaimed, eyes wide, shocked.

"I have my ways, kid, it's not up for discussion."

Kurt sighed, knowing that his dad was serious. He would just have to deal with this; after all, Dalton did have anenforcedzero-tolerance no-bullying policy. Nobody would hurt him there – hopefully. He would be safe there.

And at Dalton, he would live in the dorms – he wouldn't constantly be watched over like a hawk by his dad. The Dalton blazers were long-sleeved, so it'd be easy to hide anything...