Chapter Eleven:  Maintaining Control

Monday October 29, 2012

Kurt frowned as he looked at the screen of the bathroom scale. The numbers mocked him:  126.3. He had gained one pound. Kurt mentally counted his Body Mass Index:  18.12, up 0.14 points from his previous. He was a failure. Kurt had managed to go days with only a few bites of dinner in his stomach. Until last night that is.

Just as Dr. Madsen had lied to him, Blaine had as well. He said Kurt was losing weight; he said Kurt was too thin. Didn’t he know Kurt could never be thin enough? He was fat. But he would be thin. Kurt may not be able to control much in his life, but this he could control. At least he had been able to until Blaine insisted on him eating a “good” supper.

Kurt had forced down a meager salad, each bite harder to swallow than the last. When his plate was empty, Blaine had smiled lovingly at him; Kurt felt disgustingly overweight. All of his hard work had been destroyed in just one night.

Kurt escaped upstairs where he swallowed several laxatives. He couldn’t let this happen again. He would have to be careful as not to raise Blaine’s suspicions. He would make it work somehow. He would maintain his control.

A part of Kurt was angry at Blaine. Why did he lie to him? Why couldn’t he just leave well-enough alone? But another part of him knew Blaine was just worried about him. And Kurt couldn’t blame him. He was worried himself. But he couldn’t stop hurting himself. It was the only thing that alleviated the pain, if just for a little while. And when the pain returned he cut until it left again.

Now his pain had returned; this time accompanied by the feeling of worthlessness, disappointment, anger and self-hatred. Kurt stepped off of the scale, turning to the counter where he had left his curling iron. He pressed his finger to the metal, withdrawing it quickly as he felt the heat. Kurt rolled up his right sleeve, gripping the iron in the other hand; he lowered it to his skin.

Suddenly, the door to the bathroom flung open. And before Kurt had a chance to hide the curling iron or the fact that he had been burning himself, Blaine had entered the room.

“Kurt, have you seen my – what are you doing!”

The curling iron slipped out of Kurt’s hand and fell to the floor. Kurt gasped in pain when the iron hit his foot. Blaine was by his side in an instant; he picked the curling iron up and placed it on the counter, as far away from Kurt as possible.

“What were you thinking?” Blaine asked, gently holding Kurt’s arm out so he could see the damage he had done.

“I thought you had left,” Kurt whispered.

“That makes it okay to burn yourself?” Blaine turned the cold water on, pushing Kurt’s arm under the spray.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Kurt said brokenly.

All of his anger left Blaine. He sighed; he hated seeing his fiancé so broken. If there was some way for him to take all of his pain and make it his own, he would. Blaine turned the faucet off, pulling Kurt into his arms.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry,” he said against Kurt’s hair.

“You have every right to be,” Kurt said.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve burnt yourself, is it?” Blaine asked, already knowing the answer.

“No,” Kurt admitted.

“I wish I could make it better,” Blaine said, fighting back tears.

“Blaine. . . .”

“J-just let me . . . I’m sorry,” Blaine said.

A tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek. Kurt cupped his face with one hand, wiping away the tear with his thumb. Blaine leaned into Kurt’s hand, closing his eyes with a deep sigh. When he opened them he took Kurt’s hand in his, lacing their fingers together.

“Come with me,” he requested.

Kurt followed him without question. Blaine led him down the stairs and into the library. Blaine seated himself in front of the piano, not tearing his eyes away from Kurt as he lifted his hand to the keys.

I've been watching you from a distance.

The distance sees through your disguise.

All I want from you is your hurting.

I want to heal you;

I want to save you from the dark.

Kurt had been hurting for a long time. Even before he came out the pain was there, accompanied by an ever-present fear. How would his dad take it when he discovered his only son was gay? Would he be accepted by society? The second one he had already known the answer to. No, he was not accepted in Lima; but he was accepted by his dad. After he came out the fear subsided, until the bullying began.

Give unto me your troubles.

I'll endure your suffering.

Place onto me your burden.

I'll drink your deadly poison.

Yes, Kurt had been plagued with hurt for a while now. Blaine’s deepest most sincere wish was to take that pain away and make it his own. But that wasn’t possible. Instead, Blaine was there for him whenever Kurt needed him, and even when he didn’t need him or Kurt didn’t want him. Blaine felt Kurt’s hand on his shoulder as Kurt raised up his voice to join Blaine’s.

Why should I care if they hurt you?

Somehow it matters more to me

Than if I were hurting myself.

Save you!

(Save you.)

I'll save you.

Even if there were some way for Kurt to give all of his pain to Blaine, he never would. Just like Blaine would rather endure such anguish than have Kurt suffer, Kurt never wanted Blaine to feel as he did. In fact, Kurt would do everything in his power to ensure that Blaine would never bear such agony.

(Fear not the flame of my love’s candle.)

Give unto me your troubles.

(Let it be the sun in your world of darkness.)

I'll endure your suffering.

(Give unto me all that frightens you.)

Place onto me your burden.

(I’ll have your nightmares for you)

I'll drink your deadly poison.

(If you sleep soundly.)

Listening to Blaine sing, there was a part of Kurt that wanted to confess everything to Blaine:  the restricting virtually all food, the laxatives, the power Kurt felt whenever his stomach grumbled in hunger. But Kurt couldn’t do that. Surely, if he did Blaine would think something was wrong and tell him to stop. No, Kurt couldn’t stop. He couldn’t give up his only form of control.

(Fear not the flame of my love’s candle.)

Give unto me your troubles.

(Let it be the sun in your world of darkness.)

I'll endure your suffering.

(Give unto me all that frightens you.)

Place onto me your burden.

(I’ll have your nightmares for you)

I'll drink your deadly poison.

(If you sleep soundly.)

Fear not the flame of my love’s candle.

Let it be the sun in your world of darkness.

Blaine lifted his hands from the keys. He raised his eyes to meet Kurt’s. Neither one spoke at first, unsure of what to say when the song had said it all. They simply sat there, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes. When Blaine finally opened his mouth to speak, somebody else beat him to it.

“Oh, sorry! I was just looking for my song writing textbook,” Rachel said. “I’ll just go.”

“No, it’s okay. I need to go finish getting ready or I’ll be late,” Kurt said hurriedly. The guilt was eating away at him and he couldn’t sit there looking at Blaine a moment longer before he admitted everything. Kurt pressed a quick kiss to Blaine’s lips before fleeing the room.

K/B

Thursday November 1, 2012

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kurt.”

Dr. Andrew Sawin was not what Kurt expected. He was young for a psychiatrist, in his thirties. He was attractive with short black hair and brown eyes and was about Kurt’s height. Kurt took his proffered hand as he stepped into the office.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Dr. Sawin,” Kurt replied politely.

“Please, call me Andrew,” the doctor said as he picked up a clipboard from his desk and sat in a leather armchair in the corner of the room. “Have a seat.”

Kurt settled himself on the couch, shifting his weight nervously as he waited for Andrew to begin. Now he wished he had allowed Blaine to accompany him but Kurt wanted to do this on his own. After Dr. Madsen had noticed his change in diet, Kurt didn’t want to risk Andrew bringing up the subject.

“So, why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Andrew suggested.

“I don’t know where to start,” Kurt said awkwardly. He wanted to be able to trust Andrew but after so many years of bullying, Kurt had built up walls to keep himself safe.

“Well, I received your records from Dr. Madsen. I know you have trouble letting people in, especially when you first meet them. But, Kurt, I want you to know that you can trust me; and not just because of doctor-patient confidentiality. Anything you say to me stays within these walls,” Andrew promised. “Just start with wherever you feel comfortable. We can get to the difficult stuff later.”

“Okay,” Kurt said. He drew in a deep breath; he could do this. “I just moved to New York with my fiancé, my stepbrother, and my best friend.”

“Do you like New York?” Andrew asked, beginning to scribble away on his clipboard.

“I love it here. Back in Lima, I wasn’t free to be myself. But I’ve tried being other people and myself suits me best. It still got to me, even though I tried to hold my head up high and act like it didn’t bother me. When I was in Lima, it felt like everyone wanted me to be someone other than myself. Someone always tried to make me feel like there was something wrong with me. And when you’ve been told that for so long, after a while you start to believe them,” Kurt said dismally.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Kurt. There’s a lot wrong with the world you live in,” Andrew said wisely. “I’m glad you found somewhere you can be yourself. How else were you bullied? Was it all verbal?”

“No,” Kurt paused, not sure if he was ready to continue. But he had promised Blaine he would get help, and in order to do that he had to be completely honest with Andrew. “I was tossed into dumpsters, had slushies thrown in my face, shoved into lockers, and hate-kissed by a jock that couldn’t accept his own sexuality.”

“That’s a lot to deal with for anyone. How did you get through it?”

This was it. Kurt knew he had to tell the truth. But that didn’t make actually doing it any easier. Kurt knew Andrew was already aware of his self-injury, but admitting it himself was always harder as he was always afraid he would be judged. But Andrew was a trained therapist. It was his job to lend a non-judgmental ear.

“I started hurting myself. . . . It gave me a reprieve from the emotional pain I endured every single day.”

“But that’s all it offered – an escape,” Andrew stated.

“Yeah,” Kurt admitted reluctantly.

“You’re not alone, Kurt. It’s important that you remember that. This is not something that you have to fight on your own.”

“I feel alone. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone thought I was crazy. I mean, who does this to themselves?”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Kurt. Self-injury has been a major way of coping in horrible circumstances for you. But this behavior is ultimately futile. It does not help you truly deal with these emotions. There is good news, though. You can fully recover and live a happy, normal life. In fact, I’ve seen it happen firsthand. But you have to be willing to fight; if you’re not, you will not win.”

“I want to get better,” Kurt said resolutely.

“Then you will,” Andrew said. He paused, flipping through a manila folder bearing Kurt’s name. “Dr. Madsen observed you’ve lost weight. Would you mind if I weighed you?”

“No,” Kurt answered reluctantly, knowing there was no way around it. Why did everyone keep insisted he had lost weight? Kurt knew the truth; he was fat. Thankfully, he had managed to go the last three days without eating a bite.

Andrew motioned for Kurt to follow him over to the doctor’s scale. Kurt stepped onto it; Andrew adjusted the slider until the bar balanced out.

“Kurt, you weigh 123.5 pounds. You’re underweight,” Andrew said with concern lacing his voice.

Kurt mentally calculated his BMI:  17.72. It wasn’t enough; he needed to lose weight.

“I’m fine,” Kurt answered.

Andrew frowned but didn’t push the matter. If he pushed Kurt too soon, Andrew knew he might not return.

“I think that’s enough for today. I want to see you twice a week. Does Monday work for you?” Andrew asked.

“Monday’s fine,” Kurt said. He shook Andrew’s hand once more before shouldering his messenger bag and leaving the room.

Kurt jogged home, knowing he needed the exercise. God, why couldn’t he lose weight faster? It seemed like it was taking an eternity. Thankfully, the doctor’s office was fifteen blocks away from his apartment so it gave him a little cardio work. He would have to get on the exercise bike later.

Instead of taking the elevator up to the penthouse, Kurt climbed the stairs to the eighteenth floor, bypassing the main level of the condo in favor of the master suite. Kurt dropped his messenger bag off by the door and entered the bathroom. He was surprised to see Blaine standing there with a white box in his hand, with three other boxes spread out on the counter. Kurt focused on the box, freezing as he realized what Blaine was holding. He had found Kurt’s stash of laxatives.

Blaine heard Kurt enter the room. He slowly turned to face his fiancé, a pained expression on his face. Kurt’s heart stopped when Blaine spoke.

“Kurt, what is this?”