-10 years later-
Life at Dalton was perfect for Blaine. It was stable, reliable, safe, boring. Thankfully he had other ways to entertain himself.
Blaine had gone to a public school before Dalton, it hadn’t turned out well. The boys didn’t like that he was different, they didn’t like his bowties or his dapper ways, they especially didn’t like the fact that he was gay. He was often tormented there, his father never cared much, his mother only listened to his father. It was a never ending cycle of bullying, abuse and neglect. Blaine hated his father, he knew his mother loved him to some extent but Mr. Anderson was a man to be feared; he wasn’t above roughing up his wife (or his son, for that matter). One simply did not mess with Mr. Anderson, unless they wanted to disappear; or worse.
Blaine took the bullying pretty well, he never lost his temper, he was always a boy with utmost manners and class. He never yelled or lost his temper, he never swore or screamed or yelled or cried; not when anyone could see or hear him at least.
Blaine would go into his room every day after school of freshman year, lock his door, blast Mozart or Beethoven or whomever else was already in his old record player. He would play the music so loud no one would hear his screams or cries. No one could see his anger and hatred. He would plot ways to kill them: his bullies, his father, his pastor, everyone. They all deserved to die for what they did to him.
All he wanted to do was for them to suffer like he had.
And one day they did.
April first, of Blaine’s freshman year was a day to remember. It was the day he fought back, the day he was brought to his wits end. He had been patient with these sub humans, these imbeciles; barely evolved and idiotic to the point where they probably couldn’t even do basic algebra. They pushed too far.
The boys decided that the fool’s day was for pranking, and pulled a very dark one on Blaine. They forged a teacher’s note to tell him to meet her after school in the gym to rearrange volleyballs. Blaine often helped teachers after school this wasn’t an unusual request and he paid no attention to it, followed the order like a lamb to the slaughter.
When he arrived at the gymnasium after school the lights turned off the second he entered and the doors slammed closed; locked and sealed. Classical music started blaring from the speakers, vigorous violins and violent piano keys smashing to an almost uneven beat.
“Hello Blainey, we heard ya like classical music, you got yer’ self an Alex deLarge thing goin’ on eh?” squawked Tommy Smiths, a fat southern boy with an IQ lower than his age who seemed to always be the ring leader of Blaine’s tormentors. Tommy could never appreciate the subtleties of Anthony Burgess, he must have watched the film for the horror porn or something, he couldn’t imagine the idiot being able to read it.
“What’s going on here?” Blaine yelled, reaching out in the darkness for something, anything; a weapon, a light switch, a person to hold hostage. Why hadn’t he brought his pocketknife to school today? He felt strong hands grab him from behind and start to strip him naked down to his Spiderman briefs when the lights turned back on. Tommy was right in front of him, two other boys who Blaine couldn’t see holding back his struggling body.
“Spiderman undies? You sure yer gay? Maybe yer just seven! Did mommy pick those out for ya?” he kicked Blaine in the stomach, Blaine attempted to double over but was held back once more.
“Huh? Well Blainers? Answer me you piece of shit!” he spat.
“What do you want from me?” Blaine asked, fearing the worst, if he made it out of this alive, he was going to fucking burn these imbeciles. He was going to make them watch while he slowly kills their loved ones them fucking cut their eyelids off and dissect them while they were still breathing. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that he live through this just so he could kill these fuckers.
“We’re just gonna have a little fun ya know?” Tommy smiled a toothy grin.
-
Blaine doesn’t remember much of the rest. He blocked it out a while ago, but the scars on his stomach suggest that they cut him up pretty bad. He remembers waking up in the hospital, apparently from a come that lasted three days. Broken ribs, jaw wired shut. He still had burn marks on his back from pain he still can’t remember.
He does remember what happened after he got out of the hospital and was fit enough to fight back. He spent months strength training, was put back a year from damages, but he was a fighter, he started boxing, lifting weights, anything to build the strength to kill those fuckers.
When the day came that he knew he was strong enough to get his revenge, he started planning. It was a Wednesday night, he had an alibi of being at home while his parents were at a party, his maid could confirm that he was in his room the entire night. He had no motive, not really. They didn’t even live in the same city as Tommy and his gang, they moved to Westerville for Blaine’s father’s job.
So that night he took one of his dad’s cars and drove to Tommy's, duffle bag of supplies in hand. There had been a serial arsonist going around Ohio, it wasn’t Blaine but the guy provided a pretty good cover.
First he went to Tommy’s place, it was 3am and everyone was asleep, including Tommy. He took out the scissors, gasoline, rope, chloroform, pliers and his carving knife and entered through the back basement window. They always seem to forget about them, in a safe neighborhood why would you think to close a screened window in your house? Fools, all of them, he thought.
He landed safely with his pack in hand, thankfully they didn’t have any pets, Blaine hadn’t thought of that until he landed. Thank god.
He crept up to the third floor where the Smiths family were sleeping. Tommy had a little sister apparently, pretty little girl of maybe four or five. Shame she has to die before anyone could really miss her, barely any point in it except revenge. Blaine took the cloth and poured some of his dad’s chloroform onto it, hit it harshly on the girls face until her muffled screams turned into drug addled whimpers. When he was sure she was done for the count, he tied her up with her arms behind her back and a scarf around her mouth to the bed.
He followed the same procedure with Tommy’s father, then mother (have to go from the stronger to the weak just in case they try to fight back) until all three of them were tied together, bound in a knot that would be impossible to untie (thanks boy scouts). Then he woke up Tommy.
By now Blaine was much stronger than Tommy, unlike the family, he didn’t drug Tommy but simply thrashed him over the head with the heavy side of his pliers and tied him to a chair, facing directly across from his frightened and drugged family. Blaine could see Tommy’s sister’s eyes leaking with tears, muffled screams for her mother, for comfort, for rescue that wouldn’t come.
Blaine waited patiently until Tommy finally woke up, blinking his eyes and groaning in pain. Blaine found it so funny that the invalid thought that was pain. The boy didn’t know what pain was compared to what would happen to him in the next hour.
“Welcome back to the real world Tommy” Blaine smiled, pacing around Tommy and his family.
“What-Blaine? What the fuck are you doing here? Why do you have my family tied up? Get the fuck away from me you fag I swear to god you take one step closer to me and I’ll-“
“and you’ll what?” Blaine said with a sickly sweet smile, he knew Tommy would try to fight, it was more fun that way. He wanted Tommy to fight for the trivial life he thought was his. He wanted a show.
“You’ll do nothing Tommy, you won’t move, you’ll listen. You’ll listen and then you’ll probably cry a little, maybe beg, I don’t know it’ll be fun to watch though” Blaine was speaking as if Tommy was an old friend, conversing about the weather. He grabbed Tommy’s face as Tommy tried to look away.
“Isn’t this where you ask ‘what do you want from me?’ or I don’t know ‘please please spare me oh great one’? or is that just the movies?”
“Fuck you!” he spat,
“Fine then I’ll just tell you how it’s going to go,” Blaine started, pacing again and letting his grip of Tommy’s face loose.
“Well, first I’m going to cut off your eyelids so you can watch as a torture your family to death” behind him Blaine could hear a scream from the little girl. Begging for her life through the muffled cloth.
“Blaine, you don’t have to do this” Tommy tried to reason, but Blaine just let out a sharp laugh.
“Of course I don’t have to do this. I want to Tommy, I want to fucking burn you to the ground like you did me. I’ve been planning this since the day in that little gym of yours-Oh!” Blaine said clapping his hands in mock amusement as Mr. Smiths started to wake up along with his wife, fighting his bonds and failing.
“Now we got a show don’t we Tommy eh? Oh this is great, welcome to the circus Mr. Smiths you’re just in time to watch me cut off your son’s eyelids so he can’t close em’ when I torture you and your wife to death, oh and your kid too never forget, she’ll be first just for kicks!” Blaine was really getting into the mood now, blood was rushing, he was in control for once he hadn’t blacked out during the killing. This was going to be fun!
“So, come here Tommy, lemme see those pretty eyes of yours eh?” Blaine said grabbing Tommy’s face again, this time strong enough so he couldn’t move if he wanted to, and took out his scissors.
This was where it got complicated because he really could have used someone to hold Tommy’s head while he started snipping at the thin skin around his victim’s eyes. But sadly that was not the case and he ended up cutting Tommy’s eye pretty badly , through the scelera to the point where a bit of the clear gelatinous fluid from his eye was leaking out in one piece along with a mixture of blood from the eyelid being cut off. Be make sure there was still enough traction that his eye didn’t slip loose or something, one eye was already blinded and oozing. Over the shrill but muffled screams of Tommy, he started snipping at the next eyelid, pulling it away from the eye as to not blind Tommy, he wanted him to see the show after all.
With very neat craftsmanship Blaine did eventually get the second eyelid off Tommy without blinding him, he kept it in his pocket for a keepsake; to remember for later when he was bored. Tommy’s face showed true shock and pain this time as he tried to blink his eyes but couldn’t. the feeing of phantom pain and real pain mixing between the two, tears mixing with blood.
“And now we’re going to start with the little lady, come up for a ride little girl!” Blaine said in a mock professional voice, as if he was an announcer for a kids show or circus.
Blaine grabbed the little girl with the back of her head and took out the pliers.
The little girl shook her head, fear and confusion clouding her head.
Blaine grabbed her roughly, laughing at her muffled screams.
—
Pliers, scalpel; all of Blaine’s favourite toys were used on Tommy’s family that night. Blaine had never let himself dig so deep inside his darkness to allow him to murder a whole family.
One by one Blaine tortured and killed off Tommy’s family. Tommy was saved for last, begging and snivelling like the cowardly piece of excrement he was. Blaine took his time, like he had with the rest of the Smiths family, he smiled sweetly at Tommy as he used the scalpel to cut strips of skin off his body. The ligaments and veins trying to keep the skin together only made it more fun to peel off the boy’s body, his screams were like music to Blaine’s ears. Eventually Tommy’s breathing ceased and Blaine knew his project was finally complete.
He took the gasoline and drenched the place, paying extra attention to the bodies to make sure his work would go unbeknownst to the public. This would just be another tragedy caused by the horrible, heartless serial arsonist plaguing the Smiths’ sad little town in Ohio.
The fire did nothing but make Blaine sad, the beauty of his work was now lost to the world. He knew it was needed since the society in which he was forced to subsist couldn’t appreciate his art, maybe one day he would find someone who could.
Until then he would just have to go it alone.
—
It was a dreary tuesday at Dalton, rainy, boring. The warblers had an impromptu performance today though, so he was excited. Strangely enough performing came only second to homicide to Blaine. He loved that the insects below him marvelled at his art, his voice, his presence as if he was a God.
Performing was an art that people did truly appreciate, unlike torture and murder, people recognized that he was above them when he performed. They noticed and loved him, wanted to be like him. It was wonderful.
Blaine was one his way to the senior commons to do a performance when a boy clad in designer clothing stopped him.
This boy was obviously a spy, he could tell from the fake uniform. He would have to kill him, he couldn’t make it seem like its okay to just try and steal the warbler’s setlist or whatever the pathetic being had come here to do. He quickly pondered if he could kill the boy before the performance started or if he’d have to find him after, the boy was obviously gay; he could easily ask him out to coffee and kill him in a back alley.
But then the boy spoke and all thoughts of harming the boy stopped at a halt.
Excuse me I’m new here,
The boy was an angel without wings. Soft porcelain skin and a voice as smooth as silk. This boy was no being, he was perfect, an angel. And soon he would be Blaine’s perfect angel. He had finally found what he had been looking for, for what seems like forever. This boy would be his, he was sure of it.
—
The boy’s name turned out to be Kurt, a beautiful name indeed. It matched him oddly enough, added another layer to the perfect being.
They met for coffee after that and the true reason to why he had been spying was revealed.
Blaine wanted to kill the idiots at Kurt’s school for treating him like he was anything less than perfect. He wanted to hear their screams for mercy as their blood painted his and kurt’s body. He wanted Kurt’s smile and laughter to ring through the hallowed halls of his school as the bloodied corpses of his tormentors were strewn across the cold tiled floors.
That night Blaine had the most beautiful dream.
Kurt was on his back, legs splayed wide and open as Blaine fucked him into the mattress in unforgiving and abusing thrusts. He took a razor and started cutting up Kurt’s perfect soft skin, starting with his wrists which were bound to the headboard. The abuse to his body only made Kurt moan louder, high pitched and whining for more. Blaine kept his pace, fucking into the tight heat while moving towards Kurt’s already bruised neck and took the razor to it then drawing patterns and lines. That wonderful heat started coiling in his stomach, radiating from his toes to his head, he was so close, fucking and cutting and kissing the moans out of Kurt’s throat until-
That was the first night Blaine dreamed of Kurt. He woke up in a cold sweat, harder than he had ever been before in his life, he knew from that night on that Kurt was the one. The one he could possibly love enough to not kill, he would protect Kurt from the world and teach him the ways of murder. Soon, very soon Kurt would be his.