"Thanks, Mom," he said, as she plated some food up for him. He chose to ignore the look that his father gave the pair of them. Blaine began eating, enjoying the home- cooked meal.

"How was work, Blaine?" his father asked, breaking the silence and almost causing Blaine to drop his fork. Work, shit. He'd totally forgotten about the Six Flags job he was supposed to start this week. Before he could think of a reply, his mom spoke.

"I called them and told them that Blaine wouldn't be able to make it," Natalie explained calmly as she cut into a carrot and delicately put it in her mouth.

"And why exactly would you do that?" Blaine could hear the irritation in his father's voice and pretended to be very interested in the food on his plate.

Natalie put her knife and fork down on the table slowly.

"Have you seen your son, Bill?" she asked.

"Of course I've seen him," Bill scoffed and carried on eating. "He's sitting right there," pointing to Blaine with his empty fork.

"That's not what I meant, Bill, and you know it," Natalie snapped. Blaine stared at his mother, mouth open in shock. "Take a good look at him. Look at his face."

Bill frowned at his normally placid wife before flicking his eyes guiltily at where Blaine was sitting. Blaine felt very self-conscious as he felt his father's eyes flick over the nasty cut on his forehead, the still swollen eye and the almost healed split in his lip. He couldn't help but notice that his father still didn't meet his eyes, though.

"Yes, I suppose I see what you mean. I don't imagine they would want someone in their little show looking like that."

"No, damn it, Bill, that's not what I meant." Natalie slammed her hand down on the table, making all of them jump.

"Look at him properly. Blaine was raped." Blaine flinched at the word, wondering whether it would ever lose its raw edge. "Do you really think he's in any state, physically or mentally to be working? He barely eats, he's not sleeping, and he needs to see a therapist."

Bill sat through all this in stunned silence, but at the word 'therapist', his lip curled up into a sneer.

"Yes, the detective mentioned something about that, and you know how I feel about those people, Natalie. The Andersons deal with their own problems. Things like this make us stronger."

"Things like this? Since when have any of us had to deal with something as big as this?" Natalie was almost shouting now, and Blaine just sat there in awe. "I wanted him to see someone after the Sadie Hawkins dance, and as usual, I let you take over and brush it all under the carpet. Well, not this time, William. I will not stand by and watch my son suffer any more, not if there's something I can do to help."

She turned to where Blaine was sitting now and grasped his hand in hers. "I meant what I said before, Blaine. I'm sorry it took me so long, but I'm here for you now."

The heartfelt moment was ruined when his father snorted out a harsh laugh.

"Oh, how touching. You watch too much daytime television, Natalie. You mommy -coddling Blaine isn't going to help him. You need to let him be a man."

"This isn't mommy coddling," Natalie hissed. "This is showing him that I love him, something every child deserves."

"That's just it, Natalie. Blaine isn't a child anymore…"

"He's still my child," Natalie interrupted.

"Seeing a therapist just increases the chances of people finding out what happened." Bill turned to face Blaine now. "I spoke to the detective today and there's a chance that we can keep the less… savory… aspects of all this quiet."

"What…what do you mean?" Blaine asked.

"We might just be able to get the men charged with assault, and then no one needs to know the other details."

"But… doesn't that mean they won't get as long a sentence?"

"Probably," Bill waved his hand dismissively, "but as it is, neither of them are admitting to it anyway, so if you go ahead with all of this you'll probably have to testify in court against them and then everyone will know. Is it really worth it, Blaine?"

For a minute Blaine could see where his father was coming from. He really didn't want everyone knowing what happened to him, seeing him as a victim for the rest of his life. If he didn't push that side of it the whole thing would be over a lot sooner. Sure, the men would get a lot shorter prison sentences, not to mention the one who was still at large. Lance, his brain helpfully supplied. He closed his eyes and willed the memories that the name had dredged up away. Just for a minute he was ready to agree with his father.

Until the man spoke again.

"After all, it's all very subjective. Who's to say what really happened that night?"

Blaine hands clenched in anger. He opened his eyes to see his mom staring at his dad in shock at the bile that had just come out of his mouth.

"You think I wanted this?" Blaine voice was quiet, but the tension in it was palpable.

"Well, no, of course not…" Bill started to backpedal a little," but maybe things just got out of hand…."

Blaine stood up then. "Out of hand?" he seethed. He pulled the collar of his t-shirt down, fully revealing the dark bruises that still encircled his throat. "Does this look a little 'out of hand' to you, Dad?"

Bill winced at the sight but didn't say anything, and Natalie raised her hand to her own throat as tears filled her eyes.

"Does this look like I wanted it? That's what you think, isn't it?" Blaine didn't give his dad a chance to reply because he didn't care what he had to say. Blaine was speaking now and nothing was going to stop him. "You raised me to be a good and moral person, so why do you think the fact that I'm gay means all of that goes out the window? Do you really think I would have sex with grown men in an alley? But even if I did, that doesn't make this right. No means no. You know what, Dad? It may shock you to know that I am…." Blaine choked on the word, realizing it was no longer true" ….I was a virgin. I've never done anything more than kiss a boy. In fact, you've probably got your wish, because I don't know if I'll ever be able to do any more without… this… ruining it. I'll never be able to do anything without hearing them, seeing them, feeling them, tasting them…." Every word he used seemed to hit his dad like a punch and he was pleased. "…..and you think I wanted this?" The last words were almost whispered.

"Of course I don't think you wanted it, but I warned you before that this lifestyle you've chosen brings risks. I'm sorry you had to learn that so young, but it's none the less a valuable lesson to learn." His father was doing what he always did when he felt like he'd been backed into a corner- he was getting preachy.

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" Blaine knew how much his father hated swearing." They almost killed me, they almost killed Kurt and you think that we brought this on ourselves. That I learned a lesson from this?" He paused then before adding, "when did you stop loving me, Dad?"

Blaine didn't know at what point he'd stood up during his little speech, but he was surprised to find himself towering over his father.

"I've never stopped loving you, Blaine. How could you even…." Bill looked genuinely upset at the question.

"Really, because I've seen the way Kurt is with his dad and it's nothing like this." Blaine indicated the two of them.

Bill stood up then, clearly unwilling to sit and be intimidated by his own son. "I might know the precious Burt Hummel would be brought into this. If you think he's so great, what don't you ask him to be your father? Then you'll see how far from perfect he is. No one is without flaws."

His father was yelling now. Blaine had touched a nerve.

"Of course he's not perfect, but at least he has the courage to own up to his mistakes. He doesn't need everyone to see him as perfect. Not like you. You know what? I wish he were my father." Blaine could hear his voice getting louder and louder until the final thing he said was screeched into his father's face..."BECAUSE I HATE YOU."

He heard it rather than felt it. A loud noise that echoed around the room. The sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by a sob from his mother. He felt the blood trickling down his chin and raised a hand up to where his almost healed lip had been split open again. When he held them up in front of his eyes, his fingers were red with blood. He looked with frightened eyes at his father. Bill was looking at his own hand, the one he'd just used to slap his son's face, as though it were an alien thing, something that didn't belong to him. He looked up and seeing the blood running down his son's chin, he reached a hand out to touch it. Blaine couldn't help flinching away, he didn't stop to acknowledge the guilt in his father's eyes. He just panicked. He ran from the room, grabbing his keys as he went. As he stumbled from the house, he heard someone calling his name but he didn't stop to see who spoke.

He just kept running.