"Blaine-"

I had backed into a corner, it wasn't going to help, but I couldn't think a single coherent thought.

"Blaine, turn around. Let me see." Simon's voice was too calm."

"I can't, "I was choking on my own words now, "I can't."

"Blaine-"

"I can't!"

He approached me now, stepping closer as if I were a scared kitten. Gently he pushed me around so he could see where the blood was coming from, he hissed between his teeth, "Who was it?"

"I can't."

His voice started to rise now, "Who did this Blaine. Do you know them or did some random guy mug you or what?" When I didn't answer he lifted my head to stare straight into his eyes. They were glinting fiercely behind his glasses, "Blaine Anderson, at least tell me if you know them."

I bit my lip. Apparently that was enough of an answer.

"Crap." He started to pace the floor, "Crap, crap, crap! God Blaine, just tell me! It's not like I am ever going to let you back home anyway! You're my best freaking friend! I need to know who did this! Was it your father, mother, uncle? Who?"

"Yes."

"Which one? Your father?"

Again, I didn't say anything.

"Blaine, please!" I flinched at his yell, "Sorry, sorry. God, I don't know what to do. What else has he done to you?"

"Is it your father?"

"I don't know what to do either..." That, again, was enough of an answer.

He looked so broken now, slumped to the floor, staring up at my stiff self, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, you can't! You can't!" My panic was sliding back into place.

"Blaine, breathe, please? Just breathe. It will be ok. It doesn't seem like it, but it will."

"No it won't." I sounded like a child, but I didn't care.

"Just trust me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your best friend, one of them anyways, and because...because I've been in your shoes."

"What?"

"I know what it's like. I never talk about my dad right?"

Oh god.

"He used to drink, all the time, and when it got bad he would beat us. I never talk about my dad because my dad is in jail. It seems like your world is ending, maybe even already over, but it's not. It WILL be okay, maybe not right now, but eventually. You always said that you were fine, and I'm pretty sure you lied every time you said that. Someday though, it's going to be the truth. You'll be okay, you'll be better than ok."

"I-" I didn't know what to say anymore.

"I know, and that's alright." I didn't remember sinking down onto the floor, but I was now sitting face to face with someone who had survived. Someone who had gone through hell and back, and was ok. But at that moment, all I could think of was how cracked open everything seemed.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"Some people are going to have to know."

He was right, I didn't want to believe it but he was right, "Then-just-don't tell the guys."

"I won't because that isn't my right, but I think you need to."

"I can't."

Simon just sighed and picked himself up off the floor, "I'm gonna wake up Mom and we're getting you to the hospital."

"Don't-"

"You can either come willingly or I can get my uncle to carry you there but you're going to the hospital either way. I'll be right back, don't do anything stupid like running away."

As soon as he left I started to heat up, every breath was like an engine roaring, too loud, too loud. I wanted the cool air, the snow, I wanted to freeze myself until I couldn't think.

I wanted Kurt, but I couldn't have him. Not now, maybe not ever.

A woman with the same mousy hair as Simon's came bustling through the door. She seemed expertly calm for two in the morning, I guess it comes with having eight kids. Even though she seemed motherly, I shied away from her as she came up next to me. Simon stood in the doorway wringing his hands.

"Oh honey, you'll be alright, let's just get you to the car ok? One step at a time, just make it to the car." She put her arm lightly around my waist, trying not to move my shoulder at all.

I didn't want to go, but I didn't have the energy to fight. I let myself be practically carried to the car. Simon's mother put me in the backseat and whispered hushed nothings the whole drive to the hospital. I didn't even know what town I was in, but it had to be quite small because their city hospital was tiny.

Once I managed to pull my feet inside, it all became a blur. The lights made my head throb and Simon's mom kept asking me questions for the medical forms. After what seemed like a never ending period of vertigo, they took me back to get the glass out of my shoulder, brace my arm, and find all the marks of the atrocities that had been committed on my body.

As other kids were dreaming about the gifts they would receive in a couple of hours, I was wheeled through stark hallways in a blinding haze of pain.

•••

"Oh, you're awake. Hello, "The brown eyed lady looked down at a sheet in her hand, "Blaine. Hello Blaine. How are you doing. My name is Rosie."

What?

"Do you know where you are Blaine?"

No.
Oh.
Yes, yes I do.

"The-uh-the hospital?"

"Yes, there you go. I'm going to give you another dose of medicine alright?"

My head was a foggy wasteland but I managed an "ok..."

"Alright dear, would you like us to call your friends? They asked me to tell them when you woke up, but I thought I should ask you first."

"They can come."

"Would you like to see the doctor now or when they get here."

Never? Fine. "When they get here I guess." I didn't even know if I was making sense, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth.

"Why don't you get some more sleep." Rosie smiled softly at me before walking back out of the room.

Sounds great.

•••

"Ssh dear, let him sleep."

"I'm so freaking angry I can't even think."

"I know baby, I know. We have be there for him though."

"Yeah, it's just hard."

"All the memories huh?"

"You too?"

"Definitely."

"I feel so guilty."

"None of this was your fault Simon, do you hear me?"

"It feels like it is. If I could have just-"

"No. Stop it. I refuse to let you blame yourself. This is no one's fault but Blaine's parents. You are a wonderful boy Simon, understand?"

"Yeah..."

"Always remember that. None of this was you."

I shifted on the bed but still didn't open my eyes. I wasn't quite yet ready to face the world.

I don't think I will ever be ready.

"I think he's starting to wake up. Should we get a nurse?"

"Not yet, let's wait and see if he is actually awake."

I didn't open my eyes until a few minutes later. Blinking, I found Simon and his mom looking at me with concern, "Hey Blaine." Simon let out a tiny smile.

I was to groggy to say anything back yet, so I just blinked some more.

"Would you like me to get a nurse?" His mother spoke this time.

Another blink.

"Ok, I'm going to go get one."

A few minutes later, Simon's mom returned with the brown eyed nurse from earlier. Rosie was it?

"Hey Blaine, how are you feeling."

Like lead.

"I'm-" I cleared my voice in the hopes of making more sense, "I'm ok."

"Do you think you are ready to see the doctor now? Or would you like to wait until you are more awake?"

"Now is fine."

"Ok, I'll go get Dr. Tsung for you."

"We'll just..." Simon's mom gestured for the door.

"No! You can, if it's ok, you can stay."

"...ok."

She and Simon sat back down, "By the way Blaine, you're welcome to call me Mel."

"Um...ok." I think I had resigned past all formalities.

A pleasant looking asian man entered the room, "Hello Blaine. I'm Dr. Tsung, nice to meet you. Are your friends going to stay for this?"

"If it's ok."

"That's fine. So we are going to talk about your injuries ok?"

"A-alright."

"First off, you have received a minor concussion, but that should be fine with some rest. Your arm was broken in two places, we operated on that early this morning. You are going to have some pins in your arm that will stay there for the rest of your life, the surgery went well though and the arm should heal nicely in about eight weeks time."

Pins, pins, I already have so many pins. Someday that's all I'm going to be made of.

"Any questions so far?" I shook my head, "Good. Due to the copy of your medical history that we received, and the extensive bruising and scarring of your back, we are issuing you a simple back brace that must be worn for 24 hours a day for two weeks, and then at night for two more weeks after that. This is just a precaution based on the seriousness of your past injuries. Better safe than sorry." Both Simon and Ms. Mel were looking baffled right now. They apparently hadn't been informed of my past medical history, of that I was grateful. That would be overwhelming right now.

Dr. Tsung went on to explain all the various medications I would be taking, and left them in the care of Simon and Ms. Mel, "Now Blaine, while we cannot require that you do so, it is in my, and many others, opinion that you should have extensive therapy. Not physical therapy, though you will need some of that too, but therapy to help your mental health. Here is a list of doctors that we recommend. I think it really is a necessary step that needs to be taken." I didn't really know what to say to that.

"Tomorrow you will be meeting with the police and a social worker, so try and get some sleep, you should be able to be released tomorrow afternoon. Take it easy and everything should heal nicely. I'll see you again before they release you."

He left the room and we all sat in silence, not really knowing what to say.

Then I looked over at Simon and finally comprehended what everyone had been surreptitiously avoiding all day. Simon was sitting there in black dress pants and a bright red sweater vest that seemed very Christmas-y.

Because it was Christmas.

Oh god.

Crap.

"I'm sorry for wasting your Christmas."

"Oh honey, no. You're much more important right now."

"Still-"

"Seriously Blaine, you are currently saving me from having to look after nineteen children." I let out a shallow chuckle.

Ms. Mel glanced between Simon and me before standing up, "I should give you two a minute."

"Sure."

"Ok."

"This is hard for you isn't it?" I looked over at Simon who was looking at his hands, "From what you said last night, this has to be hard. I'm sorry."

"It is. It is hard, but in no way is it your fault."

"I won't blame myself if you don't blame yourself. It wasn't your job to have to read all the little hints and warnings."

"Guess not, but still..."

"No, no 'but still'. Please."

"...ok."

"Can I...can I ask you what happened. With your dad I mean? You don't have to though, not if you're not comfortable. Sorry-"

"No, no, no it's ok. I'm ok talking about it now." He sucked in a deep breath and then started talking, his hands tapping a slow rhythm on his kneecaps, "For as long as I can remember, he was an angry drunk. He would be gone for weeks at a time doing who knows what, and then he would come home and beat us. It was always just his hands, fists, legs, and sometimes his belt, "I flinched at that," Yeah, the doctor told us about all the scars on your back, I'm so sorry," he looked at me again before continuing, "It was just after my youngest sibling had been born when one day he came home with a knife. I wasn't even home, I was at the store down the street from my old house when my sister, who was then eleven, came screaming in that daddy had a knife and to please, please help. The store manager must have overheard us because, by the time I ran back home, the police already had my dad in handcuffs. He hadn't actually hurt anyone beyond a few shallow cuts, but still. So that was four years ago, he'll be in jail for a long time."

I sat there, muted, before I could form any coherent words, "How did you deal with it."

"For about a year I was so angry, at my father, my mother for staying with my dad, at everyone. Then I went to therapy though, it helped, a lot. I refused to talk to the lady for about two months, once I did though, it helped more than anything has. It sounds really cheesy, I know, but it's true. She got me my scholarship to Dalton, I actually still saw her up until July."

"Why did you stop?"

"I didn't feel like I really needed her anymore. I had stopped blaming everyone, stopped being distant. I was doing better than fine."

"I should take therapy shouldn't I."

"I think you should, yeah."

"I think I should have been taking therapy for a long time now."

"You can't change the past Blaine."

"...I know..."

"I'm still going to keep my promise by the way. I won't tell any of your other friends. I think you should, but I won't."

"I just...can't."

He didn't say anything, so I continued, "Does anyone at Dalton know about you?"

"Yeah, I told a lot of my friends last year. I don't really know why I haven't told you yet. I'm closer to you than I am to any of the soccer or science guys."

"Sometimes it's harder to tell things to the people you're closest to."

"Yeah..,Merry Christmas by the way, even though this is probably the worst Christmas ever for you. "

"It isn't THAT much worse than all the past Christmases."

"I'll sneak you in a sweet roll tomorrow morning, or some dinner rolls, whatever we have."

"Hah, ok."

A light knock on the door revealed Rosie the nurse, "Hey boys, I'm sorry to tell you that the visiting hours for non-family are over. You can come again at eight in the morning though ok?"

"Alright, thanks," Simon stood up, "I guess that's it. I don't really want to leave you alone but I don't think I get a choice."

"It's ok, I promise."

"See ya tomorrow Blaine."

Ms. Mel stuck her head in, "Bye sweetie, we'll be back in the morning."

And so I was alone again. They had already started to wean off the pain medications and everything hurt, mainly my arm, but everything seemed just a little bit blurred around the details.

I had already started to slip back into sleep when I heard voices in the hallway and a new nurse came in to see me, "Hello Blaine, there is a lady here to see you, here name is Jillian Harth? She said you would know her as Jillian Anderson? We know she is family so we didn't want to let her see you until you said she was safe."

Aunt Jillian?

Oh my god.

"Yes, yes she is definitely safe. Yes."

"Ok, we'll let her come see you."

Oh my god.

How did she find me?

I can't believe it.

A very tearful, bustling Aunt Jillian slid into the room, auburn curls flying wildly, "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, oh my god, I can't believe it. I can't believe it!"

"Hey Aunt Jillian."

"Oh sweetie..." She was already beside me, her hands brushing my un-gelled hair out of my eyes, "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

"It's ok."

"No, no, shh, it's not, it's not. No one deserves what happened to you, you hear?"

"I know, no one deserves it, but it happened. How did you find me?"

"Ollie came home saying how you'd been in a fight with Peter at the table, then later came running in bleeding and left. So I of course called the police and after an extensive background check, was led here. How did you get here?"

All for me.

"My friend Simon and his mother brought me here late last night."

"I promise to be right back, but I'm going to get a doctor to explain all the injuries ok?"

"Ok."

True to her word, she was back in about fifteen minutes, this time much more tearful though, "I'm so sorry this happened Blaine. I'm going to talk to the social worker tomorrow with you if that's ok."

"To..so...wait...so I could live with you?"

"If you want. I'd love to have you."

"Really?"

"Yes. I would love for you to live with Ollie and I, only if you want to though."

It was like the heavens were raining down angels, "Yes, yes please. Yes, yes, yes."

"Ok sweetie, we'll see what we can do. Why don't you get some sleep ok? Tomorrows going to be hard."

"Thank you."

With her fingers carding softly through my hair, my eyes closed, but not before I could hear her say, "I love you little B, so much."

•••

I awoke with a motherly hand still resting on my forehead. I was able to bask in the tenderness of the feeling for about a minute before Aunt Jillian stirred and nurse came sprinting in with breakfast trays, trying to boost up my energy for the horrific day that was to come. I didn't really care to intake their hospital food though, so I waited for Simon. True as ever, he arrived with two sticky buns hidden in Tupperware under his jacket. With the nurses eyes turned, we scarfed down the cinnamon goodness, a sweet start to a deliriously sour day.

Everything seemed as if it were a panic attack, but I didn't feel overwhelmed. Just cold and numb, which was definitely okay. The world was spinning just a second too fast, the lights a switch too bright, but these people were on an organized mission, no time to stop and shade my world.

There were police officers, social workers, people I didn't know what they did at all. I was bombarded with questions like the Germans bombarded the British during the blitz. The social workers weren't too bad, it was decided pretty quickly that I would be living with Jillian (I couldn't even stop to breathe when they told me that before I was pulling my aunt into a hug) but that I would be staying at Simon's and then Dalton until the paperwork was finished around late February.

It was the police statements that were hard.

Hard didn't even cover it.

Catastrophically abominable was more like it.

I asked everyone I knew to leave, I needed to make these statements alone for as much of their sanity as my own. They had to give me medicines to calm down in about the first five minutes though. It seemed as if the brutal hearing lasted forever, questions, questions, questions, statements. They told me that my parents would be locked away, my dad for a very long time, but that I wouldn't have to attend the trial if I didn't want to, being a minor and all. Of course, I didn't want to, so then off to more statements. Pictures were taken for evidence, it was terrible to watch these tough faces crumble into expressionless despair as they faced the linear scars across my back that encased the other wounds.

It wasn't until eleven at night when I was finally released, so exhausted and dazed that I had to strain to understand the nurse's last warnings. Aunt Jillian and I hugged way longer than was usually socially necessary, but I'm quite sure that neither of us cared. Then Ms. Mel and Simon helped me to their waiting car, and we were off.

Off to where normal people led normal lives and hadn't spent their Christmas lying on deafeningly sterilized bed.

•••

"What happened to your arm?"

It was probably around noon when I opened my eyes, laying stiffly on Simon's bed (him taking an uncomfortable looking cot on the floor), locked into my brace. As the midday light flooded in, what seemed like a thousand pairs of child eyes looked curiously at me.

"Who are you?"

"You look tired."

"Aunt Mel said not to bother you. Why can't we bother you? What's wrong?"

"Do you know Santa?"

"No Will, he doesn't know Santa, remember what Aunt Mel said about him being Simon's friend?"

"How come Simon gets to bring a friend? Mommy told me that I couldn't invite Natalie!"

Oh god help me.

So many children...

Oh thank god, Simon is coming to save me.

"Hey! Remember what Mom said guys? Leave Blaine alone ok?" Simon pushed all the kids out of the room, a young teen with darker hair than Simon followed him into the room.

"I'm Chloe, second oldest ragamuffin."

"I think we're overwhelming him.."

"Um-no-it's fine. Two is fine. Nineteen? Not so much."

"Yeah sorry, some girl was supposed to be watching them..." He sent a steaming look towards Chloe.

She just shrugged it off, "Whatever. Anyways, so you're cute. You're name's Blaine right."

Getting hit on by Simon's sister?

Awkward.

"Um...yeah...I'm Blaine."

"You're really hot, I like your curls."

"I'm also really gay."

"Pity, we could've been a cute couple."

"OK! Chloe! Out! Now!"

"What? Is flirting now a crime?"

"To my best friend that you just met? Yeah. Now out."

"Fiiine..."

"Sorry about her, she's going through that obsessive girl faze where they only care about getting a boyfriend."

"It's ok, I don't really mind."

"That's good because she's probably going to keep hitting on you until you go back to Dalton. But yeah, I brought you some nice, warm, leftover dinner rolls. I figured you'd be hungry since it's like twelve thirty."

"Ooh, bread."

"Yeah, they're pretty good, my grandma made them."

"How many people are in this house right now?"

"I don't even know...I don't think I want to know..."

"That many huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm about to."

"True. How are you doing by the way?"

"I'm-I'm ok. The medicine is helping a lot. Mostly now I'm just tired, the only thing that really hurts is my arm. My back is sore but nothing unbearable though, the brace on the other hand is freaking terrible."

"Would a dinner roll help?"

"Yeah, yeah I think it would."

"Look at you, eating. That Westly would be so proud."

"I should probably text him and tell him I broke my arm..,"

"Yeah, you should. While you do that and eat, I'm gonna go put on some G rated stuff for the abundant children."

Me: um...so...yeah. I broke my arm....

Wes: you WHAT?!

Wes: right before sectionals?

Wes: oh god...

Wes: how are you though?

Me: sorry, I'm ok

Wes: how'd it happen?

Me: black ice

Wes: black ice is the worst..

Me: yeah, so I can't really move it much...at all

Wes: ok, we'll just take out some of the arm movement, it's not like you really have much choreography anyways with singing lead.

Me: it'll be fine. It's not like the judges can take off points for a broken arm right?

Wes: just tell me that you didn't get your cast in an obnoxious color like neon pink

Me: I did not get my cast in an obnoxious color like neon pink...though I was tempted.

Wes: what color is it?

Me: dark navy

Wes: praise the lord!

Me: you're welcome

Wes: i have to go change choreography, don't break anymore limbs. I'll text you later.

Me: see ya

Simon hopped back into the room, "Twenty seven!"

"Huh?"

"That's how many people are in this house!"

"How many rooms are there?"

"Not enough, the only reason we get this room relative-free is because I am an amazing person and spend all of my time watching insane products of nature. You ready to go help look after children?"

Nope.

"Um..."

"Too bad! Come on!"

•••

I spent the next five days being doted on by various family members of Simon's, eating way too many of his grandmother's dinner rolls, and watching children's cartoons with eighteen children and one young teenage girl who couldn't wrap her little head around the fact that "No I will not date you I AM GAY." But oh well, even after everything that fell apart into pencil shaving pieces, it was a nice week.

We were all sitting around the television, paper plates heaped with food, watching some cartoon about a purple cat (well the kids were watching the purple cat, Simon and I were discussing what kind of cake was better, chocolate or strawberry) when Chloe decided to, once again, ask me out.

"Oh come ON, strawberry is sooo much better! It's pink Blaine! Come on!"

"True, but-"

"You like pink? I looove pink!" Chloe went scrambling over all the children to sit up right next to me.

Freak.

"Chloe, leave Blaine be, Blaine likes boys not girls."

"I wish you liked me."

"I do like you, just not as a date."

"But gay guys are so caring and stuff! And they can dress nicely!"

"Hey I can dress nicely, I'm straight!"

"You don't count, you're my brother."

"Oh, don't count? You better watch yourself missy."

"Aaanyways," Chloe turned back to me, "We should go out to dinner sometime."

"No thank you, sorry. I really am not into dating girls."

"I want a daaate!" She stomped off to go complain to some poor aunt or uncle about her lack of love life.

"Girls..." Simon mumbled.

"I was pretty sire you liked girls quite a bit when you were freaking out about Luci."

"Luci is a goddess, not a girl."

"Whatever man."

Simon's grandma waltzed through then, handing out steaming chocolate cookies to all the kids, "Here you go Joseph, and Ruthie...oh our skinny guest needs an extra to fatten him up. You're too skinny. You should eat more."

"I'll take another cookie." I gave her my pretty doe eyes.

"Three cookies it is then, be careful now they're hot."

"Can I have three?"

"Now Simon, you can't be eating up all of the cookies, save some for the children."

"Wha-?" He looked at me in shock, "No fair! How do you do it! Why can the gay guys always charm the ladies!"

"Perks of being lovely."

"Oh shut up and share some on your cookies."

So I sat on a pillow in my friend's living room, sharing gooey cookies with a guy who had probably saved my life, and watching a purple cat entertain a bunch of kids.

Life hadn't been great, it wouldn't always be great in the future.

But right then, life was livable.

And that's what counts.