The demon worked his dark magic. Without a care in the world, he wove in and out of Blaine’s body, creeping in through stab wounds, creating fresh ones as he forced himself out. He ripped Blaine’s soft canvas skin, ruining the beautiful work of art that was his body. The boy let out a few almost inaudible, though heart-breaking, whimpers as the demon tugged and pulled on the jagged edges of the boys wounds. Scarlet blood oozed through the demon’s bony fingers, triggering a high pitched, cruel laugh to emanate from the devilish mouth.

The boy’s ashen skin was covered in a myriad of hues of blues and purples; splashes of colour that were roughly the size of a fist. It was as if a young child had used Blaine as a sheet of paper and had got carried away throwing paint all over him, trying to make a pretty picture for mummy and daddy. This was far from pretty. This was sickening. This was abuse. The demon poked and prodded at the indigo and navy splotches of colour on the otherwise deathly pale skin. Normally the demon hated colour, he preferred everything in dreary greys or sinister blacks and reds, but this time the purple and blue was associated with pain. He liked that.

He treated the boy’s broken leg like a playground; he jumped on it, climbed on it, swung from it. Squealing with delight, he proceeded to contort Blaine’s weak limb. The ear-splitting screams that escaped from the undeserving boy’s mouth fuelled him on; the demon loved the sound of people in agony, it was music to his ears. When the boy’s leg was sticking out at angle that shouldn’t be humanly possible, and the bone had been smashed to smithereens, he praised himself and moved on the next thing he could do that would cause the innocent boy torment.

He sucked up the boy’s blood, slowly and painfully, like a parasite, and carelessly spat it back out, covering the floor, covering Blaine. The liquid collected in a pool, not one that gave hope and life, but a pool of death and despair. It tasted so good; he was sure to take plenty, though not enough to kill Blaine. No, the demon wanted the poor boy to suffer first.

He crept into his lungs, desperate to finish the boy off, and pushed all of the air that they contained up through his windpipe and out of his mouth, causing Blaine to take short ragged breaths in hope to stay alive. The demon knew he was having trouble. The demon knew he wouldn’t succeed.

As the demon flew out of the helpless teenager’s body, a scream erupted from his mouth. It was a scream that would cause even the most cold hearted person to wince. It might even have been enough to make his father shed a tear.

Meanwhile, an angel had witnessed the start of the sickening ordeal, and she needed to stop it. She needed to save her little Blaine from ending up with the same fate that had greeted her all those years ago. She remembered when Blaine’s father, her husband, had done the same thing to her. She remembered being relieved when she could finally be free of the fear, of the hatred, of the torture, but she resented the man for making her leave her precious Blaine behind. She didn’t have anyone to save her, but Blaine did. Blaine couldn’t die.
Kurt was her best hope. She drifted through the crisp night sky in seconds. Unfortunately Kurt couldn’t do the same, it was a race against time to save her son. She was desperate to accomplish her goal.
Kurt, Blaine needs your help. Kurt, you need to save your boyfriend; he’s dying at his house. Kurt please, help my baby.

Kurt felt like a canary locked in a room full of cats. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling that there was something wrong with Blaine. It was just that though, a feeling, and there was no proof. He was just being juvenile; just because his father was home didn’t mean Blaine was in danger. Even if his father was a raging homophobic bully, who had a history of abusing family. Kurt wasn’t aware of any previous incidents that involved Blaine being injured by his father, at least not physically injured, but still Kurt was anxious. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, he crept downstairs, careful not to wake any of his family, and rushed to his car. Fumbling to fasten his seatbelt, he sped off into the shadowy night.

The long journey seemed to take seconds and before he knew it Kurt was rushing towards the door, which stood slightly ajar. He poked his head round it, not wanting to be intrusive, but also bearing in mind that doors aren’t normally left open when everything is ordinary.

What he saw next confirmed his deepest darkest fears. The sight greeted him with a threatening look and raised fists. Tables were overturned. Pottery was smashed. Blood covered every visible surface. Blood. Kurt had a ghastly feeling that the blood belonged to Blaine.

His suspicions were confirmed when he walked into the kitchen. Blaine, his precious Blaine, lay broken on the blood stained tiles. Angry red gashes graffitied every detectable body part, making him look like something from a horror movie. His leg was sticking out at an angle that legs should never stick out at. His breaths were quick and sharp, his screams long and loud.

“Blaine?” Kurt struggled to force the words out of his throat. “Blaine… What happened?” Mentally kicking himself at his stupidity- Blaine was in no fit state to answer his question, having said that, it was fairly obvious what the answer would’ve been- he moved to sit by his boyfriends head.

“Blaine, baby, it’s going to be okay. I’m going to get help, you’re going to be fine,” Kurt wasn’t sure whether he had said that for Blaine’s benefit or his own. “You have to keep breathing for me, okay? Stay awake!”
“K-Kurt?… Kurt?” Blaine’s voice was panicky and strained.
“I’m right here Blaine, it’s gonna be okay.”
“It… It hurts.” Even though it was obvious that it would, it still broke Kurt’s heart to hear it confirmed that his boyfriend was is pain.
“I know baby, I know. I’m going to call an ambulance now. I’m going to try and slow some of the bleeding. Stay calm for me,” said Kurt as he reached for his phone and dialled 911. He explained the situation as he tied what ever he could find- and that wasn’t much since everything that would have been of any use was kept in other parts of the house and he couldn’t bring himself to leave Blaine’s side- around some of the more vicious wounds. When he was satisfied he had done all he could to keep Blaine alive, he sat down, in the unavoidable pool of blood, and tried to comfort his whimpering boyfriend.
“Shhhh… It’ll be okay; the ambulance will be here as soon as possible. They’ll know how to make you better.”
“Kurt… Could… Would you… Stay with me Kurt.” His eyes were round and pleading but they didn’t contain much hope. It was as if he thought everybody would leave him when they found out what had happened, despite the fact that Kurt was by his side, doing everything he could to save him.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“P-Promise?”
“Promise.”

The distant sounds of sirens grew louder and louder, and before Kurt knew it, Blaine was bandaged up and being loaded onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.
“You’ll have to follow behind kid; we need all the space we can get, the boy’s in critical condition,” The paramedic’s voice was laced with authority but Kurt took no notice; he was adamant to keep his promise to Blaine.
“You don’t understand. I have to be there. I promised.”
“I doubt he’ll remember kid.”
“He will.” Kurt knew he would, he always did.
“This isn’t up for debate, I’m telling you that you’re not coming in the ambulance.”
“But my boyfriend needs me, he’s dying!” As soon as he had finished the sentence he regretted it. Not everyone was as accepting as Kurt’s friends and family. If they were then they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
“Boy-Boyfriend?” Great. “Well, maybe your boyfriend deserved everything he got. Why don’t you go back to fag land, ‘cause you’re not riding in this ambulance. Goodbye.” The paramedic stepped into the ambulance next to Blaine’s body, where Kurt should be stood. Kurt was worried. That man, along with others, had Blaine’s life in his hands, he could save him, or leave him to die. Kurt wasn’t so sure that the man wanted another ‘fag’ in the world.
…Maybe your boyfriend deserved everything he got…
With that in mind, Kurt curled up where his boyfriends body once lay and cried his heart out.