Chapter 17: The Trauma

They have already passed the city limits and the landscape is changing. There are few houses now, everything’s plain, dark green and lonely. This reminds Blaine that even though there’s Cooper next to him in the backseat, he feels terribly alone.

‘Mommy,’ he says in his timid, little voice. ‘Did you pack Winnie?’

His mother glances at him from the passenger seat, a worried look entering her face.

‘No, I didn’t, I thought you’d take him with you to the car,’ she explains. ‘Oh, Boo, I’m afraid you’ll have to manage the few days without him.’

Blaine’s eyes fill with tears. He shouldn’t be crying, he’s a big boy now. Four-year-old boys don’t cry after a stupid stuffed toy, but this isn’t just any toy, it’s his Winnie. Ever since his mother read Winnie the Pooh to him, Blaine can’t stop imagining his Winnie is just like in the book. They are best friends, they talk and they are there for each other. He can tell the bear everything. How Cooper laughs at him sometimes when he tries to dance or sing. How Daddy sometimes screams and it scares Blaine. How Mommy forgot she promised to bake him cookies last weekend.

Mommy also knows that Blaine can’t sleep without Winnie. The soft fabric under his fingertips is the only thing that gets him through the darkness in his room at night. It makes him feel he’s not alone and he’s safe. How is he supposed to sleep away from home without Winnie?

‘But Mommy, I need Winnie,’ he says finally, sniffing a little.

She reaches her hand to her younger son and pats him on the knee.

‘Sweetie, you have other toys with you. I know Winnie’s special, but you’ll have to be brave, okay?’ She smiles soothingly at him and Cooper rolls his eyes. This is ridiculous.

Now there’s no stopping to the tears that have been building up in Blaine’s eyes and rich streams of them pour down his cheeks.

‘Can we go back, Mommy? Please? I need Winnie,’ he sobs.

Blaine can’t see his father’s face, but he knows he’ll be angry. Still, he’s willing to risk Daddy’s anger, if it means he’ll get Winnie and will be able to tell his friend all his worries and troubles.

‘Richard,’ Mommy says to Daddy in a hushed voice, ‘let’s go back, it won’t take too long. Blaine’s going to be upset without that toy.’

Daddy grumbles something incomprehensible in response, not really bothered by his son’s problems with falling asleep. There has to be a moment when a child learns to deal with things without clutching a stuffed animal, after all. Maybe that’s the moment when Blaine should give up this ludicrous fantasy that the bear is his best friend. He’s not Christopher freaking Robin.

‘Come on, we set off early, we still have time to go back and not be late,’ Mommy keeps on insisting.

Cooper decides he doesn’t want to hear them fight again, so he steps in to support his Mom.

‘Dad, he won’t quit whining the whole of the Thanksgiving weekend if he doesn’t have that stupid bear,’ he says.

Blaine is a little offended his brother called Winnie stupid, but he’s grateful for the intervention. Cooper can be brusque or annoying sometimes, but Blaine knows his brother would never leave him alone. They are brothers and that means a lot. They love each other, no matter how much Coop teases him.

‘Fine,’ Daddy says finally. ‘But this is the last time I’m doing this.’

They all know he’s mad about this. Changing his plans to somebody else’s liking is about the last thing he ever wants to do. He hates doing this, no matter who is asking him to. And the whole purpose of going back is so ludicrous it pisses him off even more. He steps on the gas a little harder than necessary after they make a U-turn. The car lunges forward and Caitlin shoots him a concerned look.

‘Don’t go so fast, we won’t be late,’ she says to calm him down.

He’s still seething. Why couldn’t she just check if Blaine had the toy with him or not? She was supposed to take care of the boys’ baggage. God, she was their freaking mother, it was her responsibility.

Blaine is a little cheered up. He won’t have to be alone, and if any of his cousins tease him again, he’ll have Winnie to talk to. He smiles happily to himself and looks out the window. The rain has been pouring since early morning and the road is shiny from all the water.

‘Richard, slow down a little, please,’ he can hear his mother say in the front seat.

‘I’m not going over the limit, Cate,’ Daddy retorts, still angry and Blaine’s expression falls. No matter what, he hates hearing his Daddy like this.

They’re almost back to Columbus. Richard wishes they were already back to going the right direction, so he doesn’t slow down. Everything is fine, he’s an excellent driver.

But a turn comes and he takes it a little too fast, the wheels skid and no matter what he does, the car is spinning out of control and away from the road. He tries to brake, but fails and the trees lining the road grow terrifyingly big in front of his eyes. The car revolves one more time and comes to a halt with a deafening screech of bent metal and clink of shattering glass.

Blaine knows something is wrong, when his mother screams and so does Cooper. Then the impact comes almost ripping him from the car seat, but the belts hold. It takes a moment for his ears to readjust to the sudden silence. Nobody says anything. There’s a lot of glass everywhere and the insides of the car have suddenly shrunk by half. Cooper is much closer than he was before and he’s not moving. Blaine nudges his brother’s shoulder with his hand to wake him up. It doesn’t work.

‘Coop?,’ he says in a small voice, reaching with his hand to pull Cooper’s chin up.

There’s something warm and wet dripping down Cooper’s face and Blaine retracts his hand to see what it could be. It’s red and thick, and sticky. Blood. Like the time he fell in the playground and hurt his knees, scraping the skin off. But there’s so much more of it, it scares Blaine. It can’t be good. And Cooper is still lying there motionless.

‘Mommy?!,’ Blaine calls desperately, hoping she’s not asleep like Cooper. ‘Mommy, Cooper is hurt!’

No response.

He tries to struggle out of his seat, yanking at the seat belts, but they don’t give in. Trying not to get the blood on his clothes makes it even more difficult, but Mommy would be angry if he stained his brand new smart outfit. He leans as far out as he can, restrained by the belts, and manages to touch his Mom’s shoulder.

Only then he notices that her neck is twisted oddly, and her head rests on her shoulder. She still isn’t answering, even though he’s been repeating “Mommy, Mommy” for a good minute now. His voice grows louder and more hysterical. He notices there’s something dark on the airbag that blew up when they hit the tree. It’s brownish, and it makes him sick to think it could be blood.

‘Daddy!,’ he tries, but there’s no response either.

Blaine can’t remember ever feeling this alone, and the cold air from outside creeps into the crashed vehicle, causing him to shiver, as if the fear and helplessness he’s feeling wasn’t enough.

There are fresh tears rolling down his face, but he doesn’t even really notice. There’s something wrong with Cooper, and Mommy, and Daddy too maybe, but he hasn’t seen any blood. He’s alone, completely alone and he can’t even tell Winnie how scared he is, because Winnie isn’t there with him.

And it’s all his fault, because he asked to go back. Mommy and Cooper, and Daddy, they all would be alright, if he wasn’t such a cry baby and didn’t beg to go back and get Winnie.

But he needs Winnie, he just needs Winnie, he’s crying and he needs to hug Winnie, so he could stop, because Winnie helps him stop crying, and he just needs to stop crying. If only he stopped crying, maybe he could help somehow. He needs to stop crying.

Before he manages to stop the sobs that keep shaking his frame, somebody opens the door on his side and even more cold air rushes into the car.

‘Come on, buddy, let’s get you out of here, I’ll help you,’ a male voice says, and someone unbuckles the belts that have proved too confusing for Blaine’s shocked mind. ‘Help is coming, let’s get you out,’ the man keeps repeating soothingly, but Blaine is still trembling all over and he barely can hear anything.

Then, strangely soon, he’s in an ambulance and he can hear another siren nearby, but he doesn’t really know what’s going on. He’s going to the hospital, but shouldn’t there be four ambulances, not two?

At the hospital they give him something that makes his mind even hazier, but he feels calmer. They run around, and roll him in a wheelchair for tests, without him fully registering what’s going on. He’s fine, nothing hurts, he wishes he could go home to Winnie, but they wouldn’t listen to him. They act weird, exchanging sad glances and stopping themselves before speaking freely.

Blaine doesn’t understand why, until a nurse wheels his Daddy into his room. Daddy must have been crying, because his eyes are red.

Blaine expects Mommy and Cooper to follow soon after, but nobody else comes. There is nobody else to come.

***

They'd been sitting huddled without a word for an hour. Silent tears were flowing down Blaine's face, but he didn't care to wipe them away. Kurt had his arm around his boyfriend's hunched shoulders, and kept on stroking his hair soothingly. Blaine's story was vague and lacked details, nothing more than a recount of information other people had given him, facts mixed with hearsay. It had still cost him an enormous amount of effort to tell it to Kurt. Every now and then he had to stop for a moment, concentrate on Kurt's closeness and breathe, try to detach himself from what he was saying. It worked well enough for him to remain himself. Cooper and all the others stayed stashed away in his brain.

'Are you okay?,' Kurt asked finally.

'As okay as I can be, I suppose.' Blaine's voice was thick from tears and he cleared him throat. 'So now you know.'

'Thank you for telling me.' Kurt hesitated, the hand he was stroking Blaine's head with stopped suddenly. 'Can I ask you one more thing?'

With a pang of fear in his chest, Blaine nodded.

'Why did you never tell me you had PTSD and depression, aside from DID?'

Blaine sighed, burying his face in his palms. He hadn't even considered Dr. Peterson sharing this information with his boyfriend.

'They're not as... important. Not as prominent, I guess. And-'

'And?'

Blaine raised his still wet eyes on Kurt helplessly.

'I didn't want you to run away.'

'I wouldn't. I didn't when you told me about the alters, did I?,' Kurt asked.

Blaine shook his head infinitesimally.

'No, but that was just one illness, not three.'

Taking Blaine's face between his hands, Kurt peered deep into those hazel eyes, not letting them turn away.

'I'm not going to run away and I wouldn't, no matter how many alters you would have or how many disorders you would suffer from.'

'I really wish I could believe this,' Blaine whispered weakly.

It pained Kurt to hear that, but he swallowed the pill. After all, Blaine had every right to be worried, when even his own father couldn't handle his problems.

'You don't have to believe. You'll see,' Kurt said, placing a soft kiss on Blaine's forehead.