There must have been less than ten people there, but Blaine didn’t mind. To him an audience was an audience (even if they weren’t actually paying attention).

Blaine had found there were perks to playing in grimy little bars: for one intoxicated people were often extremely generous tippers and so playing in bars had became Blaines most honest source of money but he would of continued playing in bars whether he made money or not, because paying music was therapeutic to Blaine. It was the one thing that kept him sane through all the madness that had somehow become his life.

A strange, but familiar sensation hastily hit him and he tensed as it seemed to completely engulf the room. Blaine didn’t know how to explain it, all he knew was that it brought him this nagging sense of danger, it was strong, strong enough to pull him from his momentary state of bliss. His heart jolted as he met a pair of familiar dark glossy eyes, the same eyes that haunted his dreams.

Blaine had seen some of these men before, now that he had a clear view he realized they were all fairly younger than he'd first thought. His eyes swept over the group that was watching him.

One of them nodded and murmured something to the other. Blaine tentatively put his guitar back in it’s case snapping it shut, he grabbed the bills from his tip jar and shoved them into his pocket before casually walking off the shabby stage.

“Finished already?” The old bartender asked as he poured whisky into a small glass.Blaine nervously cleared his throat. A small bead of sweat running down his neck.

“I Just need some fresh air.” He replied his eyes following the tallest of the group.

Blaine assumed the tall brooding man had ordered them to disperse when they all began to noncommittally spread out. He shifted uncomfortably as he realized that each of them was still watching him intently.

It was then that panic finally struck him and his mind began to race. He knew he was being cornered, trapped, but why? Who were they, and why were they after him? He had seen them once in phoenix, once in Florida, and twice in New York; although he was certain the group had grown larger.
A large irrational part of Blaine wanted to confront them, fight them off but Blaine knew he should run.

He had gotten away before; he could get away again.
Besides, he couldn’t take on - Blaine’s eyes scanned the room (one, two, three, four, five, six, seven)- seven guys, could he?

He honestly hoped he didn’t have to find out.

Blaine turned to face the bartender, “Do me a favor.”

The bartender turned towards him, a mixture of amusement and disbelief written on his face. What the hell did this seventeen year old boy need? Wasn’t it enough that he had allowed him to play in the bar in the first place. He honestly had no idea why he’d allowed him to either. He knew he could get in deep shit, and possibly lose his liquor license if he got caught. He racked his brain for an answer as to why he was putting his job on the line for this kid? He certainly didn't need him for business. It wasn’t like he ordered anything aside from water , but somehow this boy had convinced him to let him stay, and now he wanted another favor. This was going to be rich.

“Call the police” Blaine ordered urgently his eyes finding the bartenders.

The man nodded his smug smile fading as he went to grab the phone.

“But why?” He asked in confusion as he fought a relentless urge to dial 911.

“Just do it.” Blaine muttered and in one quick motion he turned away from the bar and headed towards the back door.

If he could make it down the ally he’d be safe. His car was parked on the other side, and he knew once he reached it he could outrun them in a heartbeat.

Blaine paused as he took in the fairly drunken man that was inconveniently leaning against the back door.

“Move!” he whispered harshly

The man slowly looked up at him. His hazy eyes matched his sloppy grin, and he only giggled at Blaine's words. Blaine fought an urge to shove him aside and tried to reason with him his hand twitching nervously as he felt their eyes on his back. Blaine forced himself to focus repeating his request. The moment the drunk's eyes met Blaine's his smile vanished and he dutifully obliged.

Blaine turned back desperately trying to estimate how much time he had to get away, but it was a small bar and he quickly realized there was nothing to calculate; they were all already rushing towards him.

His eyes locked with the tallest guy with a crew cut.“Don’t even try,” he mouthed to Blaine.

Blaine took it as a challenge, shoved the door open, and fled.

As he ran he simultaneously thrust his hand into his pocket expertly fishing his keys out, crumpled bills flying out in the process.

Blaine didn’t have time to stop or look back. The multiple footsteps behind him said it all, they were on his tail.

The cold air punctured his lungs.

He needed to run faster if he wanted to get away.

The guitar case in his left hand roughly banged against his shins as he ran.
He tightened his grip on the guitar case's handle his eyes squeezing shut before loosening his grip altogether. The guitar flew back and Blaine sped up.

He ran as fast as he could.

Blaine was fast, extremely fast, but they were faster.

He flinched at the sound of broken wood, and popping strings, he could see his car at the end of the ally; he grinned,but his triumph didn't last because in that same moment moment two dark figures emerged from the shadows and he knew he was trapped.

The air harshly escape his lugs as he was shoved onto the cold, wet, asphalt.
He tried to yell but a hand slammed his jaw shut.

Blaine could barely move or breathe under so much weight.

“Hurry up. Just give me the fucking chloroform!” someone hissed as he held Blaine down

Blaine squirmed in a failed attempt to free himself.

“Dude…..are you sure we have to do this?” Another shaky male voice asked.

“For god sakes Puck Give. Me. The. Fucking. Rag.” the other growled

There was a long pause and suddenly Blaine’s face was lifted up. Nothing was remotely close to Blaine’s face but he could already smell the harsh chemicals. His stomach churned and he instinctively whipped his face away from the chloroform soaked rag.

Once again his face was slammed down onto the ground and Blaine screamed in pain.

This time it was the right side of his face the was smashed onto the pavement, his neck had been craned to it's side for what Blaine assumed to be easy access.
"Dude what the hell?"

"Shut up and help me."

Blaines eyes scanned the dark ally for something to defend himself with there wasn't much time. He angrily thrust from side to side as he tried to break loose but it was useless he was close to immobile.

He had didn't know why he was being chased or what they wanted from him but he did know he had to get away before the sick bastards drugged him.
He just needed time, or some sort of distraction.

“The police are on their way?” a voice yelled from the bar.

They all turned. And for a moment the weight on top of Blaine lessened.

“Shit!” one of the guys murmured under his breath.

“You, go handle him! Puck, hurry the fuck up!” A voice above him yelled.

The momentary distraction was all Baline needed. He closed his eyes as he let the rage and indignation swimming inside to fully consume him. He opened his eyes, abruptly feeling stronger and threw them off himself. Blaine staggered up and began to run.

“Oh hell no!”

All he heard was the sound of glass crashing on the ground and in one swift motion Blaine was back on the ground. His darkened eyes were met by a matching pair of fully blown, equally pitch black eyes.

The boy sadistically smiled down at him, “sorry man but we have been chasing you for months. You are not getting away this time.”

The rag was clamped onto his face and as much as Blaine tried not to breath in the chemicals he just couldn’t help it.

He was tired; he had been running, and struggling, and was now completely out of breath. He gasped and a sweet smell of acetone mixed with alcohol filled Blaine’s mouth and nostrils. Blaine thrashed his head and coughed which only resulted in him gasping for more air. In one last attempt of salvation Blaine grabbed at the guys face trying to push him off but his hands were suddenly restrained by someone else.

Eventually Blaine stopped fighting and lay limply on the ground. His eyes focused on the now hazy figure before him. Blaine could no longer make out the face of his attacker. He wasn’t sure if his blurred vision was due to the drug or the poor lighting of the ally; either way all he could see was the distinct outline of a disheveled fohawk on his attackers head.

His mind slowly fogged.

His eyelids grew heavy.

He grew still.

Silence.

“Karofsky, do you think he’s out?”

There was a pause.

“Yeah, lets get him out of here. We don’t need anyone else seeing us.”
----
“Just because you guys are freakishly tall does not mean he’s a midget!” Kurt said as he adjusted the laces of their standard black leather boots. All the other boys did the same, absentmindedly adjusting their boots and uniforms.

Riker laughed “You’re right Kurt he’s not short…… for a girl.”

He and Finn exchanged high fives and laughed obnoxiously.

Kurt loved these guys, he really did. They, like him had been outcasts and they all shared something no one else understood, but sometimes he just wished they were a little more mature.

“He’s shorter than you Kurt.” Finn stated raising an eyebrow at him.

Kurt was about five ten he considered himself to be average for a boy and he liked it; not too tall, not too short.

“Is he shorter than me?” Wes asked hopefully.

Riker and Finn tipped their heads to the side as if they where mentally calculating the height difference.

“Nope” Riker stated matter-o-factly.

“No one is shorter than you.” Finn added smugly.

Kurt stared disapprovingly at his friends.

“Stop making fun of Wes and the new boy, you know I hate when people pick on the others…… it’s what got me locked up in here in the first place.” he mumbled under his breath.

Wes grinned and clapped him on the back “Oh don’t worry Kurt I don’t mind being called short, after all great things come in small packages and I’m going to prove it.” He beamed as he straightened his jet-black Dalton protective vests

“How so?” Kurt asked bemused airily.

“I’m going to kick Riker’s ass on the field for the second time in a row” he said flashing Kurt a slick smile.

Ricker’s smug grin rapidly vanished,“I told you….you caught me off guard last week!” he said shaking his blond head in outrage.

Wes nodded “Denial.”

Riker glared at Wes

“Oh you’d better watch yourself little Asian.” He said yelled threateningly as he slammed his locker shut.

“Im so scared” Wes taunted as he followed Riker out of the locker room. Kurt watched as Riker playfully shoved Wes to the side, and laughed menacingly when he nearly toppled over one of the locker benches.

“I often fear for their lives. I swear one day there are going to kill each other.” Kurt said shaking his head.

Finn chuckled “Nah they’re all bark no bite”

Suddenly Sam burst into the locker room his normally sleek beach blond hair completely matted, every ounce of exhaustion clearly written on his face. He stormed past them urgently tugging his tie off.

Finn and Kurt looked up as he ran in, but neither one of them commented on his tardiness they all knew why he was late, why he looked so terrible.

His days of training were coming to an end. Soon he would face his inner demon. The thing they all dreaded at one point or another.

Kurt shuddered at the thought.

“See you guys on the field.” Finn mumbled hesitantly putting his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam looked up at him gratefully. A weak smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.Sam understood that Finn was silently trying to comfort him. Finn smiled back, nodded then walked out leaving Sam and Kurt alone in the locker room.

Sam pulled out his Dalton Academy training uniform. He quietly laid out his standard white long sleeved shirt, the matching white pants, and his jet-black protective vest with the classic black and white Dalton patch. The only thing that remained in his locker were his black leather boots.

As Kurt put his things in his locker memories of the first time their headmaster had handed him his uniform flooded back.

He fondly shook his head as he recalled his initial concern. His life had been turned upside down and his first and biggest concern had had been fashion related.

Kurt had wondered why clothes, that were meant for training and battling were practically all white. It had hardly seemed practical, especially after he'd seen the way they trained, the way the other boys forcefully pushed each other, threw each other, and pinned each other down; often without laying a single hand on one another. He had accidently blurted the question and stopped mortified, assuming Headmaster Smithe would think he was trying to be sassy. Nonetheless Smithe had had a reasonable explanation. Kurt quickly learned he always did.

“Kurt Dalton is a school of acceptance.” He began “It’s a place where boys like you come to learn what they are capable of, and how to control it. Our school emblem is black and white. If you examine it closely you’ll notice that the white overpowers the black. That is symbolic for good overpowering evil. You were all created for evil purposes but that does not mean you have to be. You can choose to be good. Your white uniforms are a constant reminder of that. You boys are good, you are a good kid Kurt, and I need you to remember that. I know it can be hard but you need to hold onto that, the world needs you to hold onto that.” He had said his eyes completely fixated on Kurts.

Kurt had nodded obediently unable to speak a million other questions still running through his head.

After everything he had been through, all he had learned about his true nature. it was comforting to hear that he wasn’t purely evil. That he still had control over his life that he was still Kurt Hummel.

“But above all else the white uniforms are convenient because they give away when a student is seriously injured. You see boys are rather prideful and things are known to get rough on the field.” Headmaster Smithe leaned back in his chair then continued “Injuries are inevitable but for some reason boys always try to hide the fact that their hurt; however, they cant hide if they’re bleeding in these uniforms.” He'd the chuckled lightheartedly easy some of Kurt's tension.

“So the white uniforms are to see if we are injured?” He knew it was a rhetorical question but Kurt was having trouble wrapping his head around everything.

“Precisely.” His said nodding in agreement.

Kurt recalled how queasy that fact made had made him feel. He had laughed nervously, terrified by what he was expected to do and become. Kurt was quick with words but he was never a fighter what if he never learned how to control his powers? What if all the other boys beat the living day lights out of him?

Well it wouldn’t be the first time, he had thought remorsefully.

Little had he known that a year later he would be one of the best at Dalton Academy.

Kurt stopped reminiscing just as Sam swiftly pulled off his shirt revealing his beloved six-pack.

Kurt tried not to stare he knew it made the guys uncomfortable and he never wanted that, but sometimes….. oh god sometimes it was hard not to. Especially with boys like Sam; who were so easy on the eyes.

Sam noticed him staring and flashed him a smug grin.

“Stop checking me out man.”

Kurt felt his face flush. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to.I-”

Sam chuckled. “Don’t worry about it I was joking. In fact I get it. Sometimes when I see myself in the mirror I can't tear my eyes off myself either.”

Kurt laughed and smacked him with his polo shirt before neatly folding it and putting it into his locker. “Shut up Sam.” Kurt muttered still smiling.

This was why he loved Sam, of all the boys he seemed to be the most comfortable with Kurts sexuality. Not that any of the others had avoided him or teased him but Kurt realized that not all the guys were initially comfortable with it, yet Sam even went as far as to tease Kurt about it, and as much as Kurt wanted to deny it this made Kurt feel normal, because for once someone wasn’t afraid of who he was.

Sam finally stood up eyeing himself in the full-length mirror his hand resting on his stubbly chin, he consciously avoided staring at the bags under his eyes.

“Dude come on. How is it that I’m ready and you’re not? Hurry up, we’re going to be late.” He said his eyes meeting Kurt’s through the mirror.

Kurt rolled his eyes and shut his locker. He glanced at himself in the mirror one last time his bright blue eyes routinely scanning his pale reflection.

He nodded “Alright let’s go.” He led the way out of the locker room Sam trailing closely behind.

They quickly exited the locker room; which happened to be the only addition made to the mansion that had legendarily become Dalton Academy.
The locker room side doors faced the back open meadows that were cut off by a tall red-bricked wall: a wall that was not meant to keep them from getting out, but to keep others from coming in.

Sam's hissed.

“Ouch! Check out the cuts and bruises on that kids face.”

Kurts head instantly shot up. He had been lost in thought as they walked towards the middle of the meadow to meet with the rest of the students. Kut scanned the crowd it wasn’t hard to find who Sam had seen.

The boy was still wearing regular clothes something Kurt often missed.
Although he had no right to complain their uniforms were surprisingly flattering. Kurt curiously eyed the boy automatically taking in his choice of clothing. He wore a sleek black jacket the torso fraction of it was leather while the rest including the hood seemed to be wool it was half unzipped revealing a dark grey thermal and a silver chain that trailed down his half buttoned shirt. Kurts eyes lingered on the small patch of tanned skin the unbuttoned shirt revealed, he eventually brought his gaze down to the tattered dark blue jeans that seemed to strategically cling to this boys body.
With just one glance Kurt couldn’t help but wonder what he’d look in his uniform. No doubt, he would look stunning in their white skin-tight pants that were meant for flexibility and the matching muscle hugging shirt. Kurt couldn’t help but bite down on his pink lower lip at the thought.

The other boy anxiously ran a hand through his dark untamed curls and observed each student, his eyes scanning the crowd. The moment the boys warm caramel eyes met Kurt’s, Kurt’s breath hitched in his throat. A blush crept onto Kurt’s cheeks. Despite the cuts and bruises it was clear this boy was utterly gorgeous.

Kurt smiled sheepishly then looked away. As much as he longed to keep staring he had forced himself to look away; the last thing he needed was a crush on another straight boy -even if that boy had instantly taken his breath away.

Kurt's body jumped as the headmaster cleared his throat. Sam chuckled and shook his head his blond hair shaking as well.

“Dude you were checking out the new kid, weren’t you?”

“What? No I wasn’t” Kurt spat but he knew the heat rushing to his cheeks gave him away. Fortunately Headmaster Smithe chose that precise moment to beging; Sam was forced to keep his next snarky remark to himself.

“Good afternoon gentlemen”

“Good afternoon the handful of students replied in unison,” all gathering in front of Headmaster Smithe. Kurt and Sam silently joined the rest of the students.

Their headmaster smiled warmly, “I would like to introduce Blaine Anderson he may be the newest addition to this school. Please make him feel welcome. You all remember the initial shock coming into this school. Which is why I expect you all to make him as comfortable as possible.”

Each student nodded and smiled at him in encouragement, a million questions already running through their heads.

Blaine forced a smile and looked away obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

Kurt watched him in awe.

Now that he was closer he could sense his power, they all could, it was strong much like a seniors which perplexed him. Blaine was a newbie, new kids were never older than fifteen or sixteen, and yet this boy did not look sixteen much less fifteen.

“That is all. Please go about your normal routine.” The headmaster said dismissively.

The students obeyed directing their attention to Jesse St. James their Study of Techniques teacher who was standing politely beside their headmaster.
Jesse jumped to action once given the instruction to continue with his lesson and began to call them to their places. None of the students troubled by fact that their headmaster remained standing there with the new boy.

It was expected, every time a new student was brought to the Academy Headmaster Smithe always gave a small tour and introduced them, then he allowed the new student to watch and get a feel of what they would be doing. They knew this because they had all been there once as well. It was the Headmasters way of introducing them to their new lives and purpose.
“All right please form two lines. Mentors in one line, gentlemen in training you already know the drill; please line up opposite them.” Jesse said clapping his hands.

The group of about twenty boys each slightly varying in age did as they where told. While the watchers ,another group of slightly older boys assigned to watched over the attacker and their mentors spread out around the grassy field. Each boy quickly running to his assigned spot much how baseball players run to their positions on the outfield.

Kurt lined up in front of his mentor: Finn.

Wes who was to the right of Kurt now lined up in front of Riker, and Sam who was to the left of him lined up in front of his mentor Puck.

“Long time no see Bro.” Sam said.

“I had business to attend to” Puck replied smugly.

Although, they where all standing in two rows there was still a large amount of space between each pair, yet Kurt still managed to read Ricker’s lips as he mouthed “You’re going down,” to Wes.

From the corner of his eye Kurt saw Wes flip Riker off.

“You two behave with such elegance.” Kurt mumbled stifling a laugh.

The chatter that had commenced promptly died down as they got into their places.

Each boy began to focus, each pair watching one another.

“Are you ready boys?” Jesse asked as silence fell in the meadow.

Kurt could feel Finn watching him a smirk on his face.

Kurt lowered his head then looked up at him a menacing grin curled over his lips.

Normally a guy as big as Finn would not have been paired with such a fragile looking boy like Kurt, but Kurts strength required someone like Finn to challenge him as well as bring him back.

A flicker of doubt shone in Finns eyes but his cocky half returned grin erasing all signs of doubt as he crouched and prepared to fight Kurt.
---
Blaine watched them incredulously. He honestly had no idea what was about to happen. So many questions had been running through his mind since he had woken up.

At first he’s thought he was dead but a man who had introduced himself as Headmaster Smithe assured him he was very much alive, and safe.

Naturally Blaine had not believed him. After all the last thing he remembered was being attacked. Which was why Headmaster Smithe had allowed him walk around Dalton Academy and see for himself that he was in fact safe.
He had been promised a more detailed explanation of what he was doing there once they were done. Seeing as he had no other choice Blaine had agreed. and now here he was standing outside with what seemed to be a small group of High School boys that were geared to fight.

They all seemed to be in their own zone now, within seconds Blaine felt a surge of something powerful taking over. The familiarity of the sensation now pulsing through the air took him aback. It was something he had only experienced within himself. But this was much more intense. It seethed through them.

Suddenly Blaine began to feel agitated he nearly jolted when he felt something within himself swirl angrily. A Vivid image of blood trickling down a wall suddenly flashed through his mind and for a second Blaine was convinced that the smell of blood was floating through the air. His eyes felt heavy memories of pain and blood all came rushing back to him but it was his. The blood the paine was his own and he was mad, furious. The thought of ripping someone’s throat out was not a unpleasant thought. Blaine’s felt his eyes closing and he began to give in to a strange but pleasant sensation but just then a warm hand gently fell onto his shoulder and Blaine was back.
He flinched instinctively pulling away, but the tall peppered haired man placed his firm hand back on his shoulder and grinned down at him.
“Don’t let it control you.” Headmaster Smithe whispered, his eyes connecting with Blaine’s.

Blaine looked up at him disoriented as he realized what had happened he quickly looked away; he could feel it.

His eyes, they had turned darker it happened every time he felt that rush of anger and hatred and it had never been this strong. Which was why Blaine was certain his eyes had changed again. However, if the headmaster had noticed he remained impervious to it.

The first time Blaine had seen himself in the mirror he had thought he was crazy his normally warm amber eyes had gone completely black, and empty.
Blaine looked up to see if any of the other students had noticed, of course none of them had even looked in his direction.

That’s when it dawned on him. Of course they hadn’t noticed he hadn’t actually done anything, it had all been happened within himself.
“Perhaps we should continue the tour. This may be a bit too much for you right now.” Headmaster Smithe said gently pulling Blaine from his thoughts.
Blain nodded in defeat the adrenaline that had begun to pulse through him slowly simmering down.

He stole one last glance at the pale boy he’d locked eyes with then turned to follow the Headmaster into the tall red-bricked mansion that was now Dalton academy.

They strolled down the school corridors in silence. Blaine was grateful, it gave the raging fury inside Blaine a chance to settle down.

Smithe eventually broke the silence.

Baline, who had been busy taking in everything about the school from the white marble floors, to the crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceilings, slowly tore his eyes away from the Victorian windows as he realized the headmaster was addressing him.

“I think you will do just fine at this school you demonstrated a great sense of control back there Blaine.”

Blaine could not help but scoff, “control? I was ready to pounce on them,” he snapped.

Smithe was now pushing the door to his office open. Blaine hadn’t even noticed they were in front of his office. He had been so consumed by his surroundings that he had simply followed without accessing where he was headed. The headmaster sat in his brown leather chair settling in it’s familiar comfort then indicated that Blaine should sit across from him.

“That may be true but you didn’t did you?.” Smithe asked raising an eyebrow.

“You stopped me.” Blaine said shrugging as he examined the sunlight that was gracefully streaming in from the vast windows of the quaint little office.
“Did I?” Smithe asked “I thought I simply reminded you that you were in control. What you did” he paused and rephrased “what you have been doing for the past year is extremely impressive Blaine. Most boys don’t know how to control themselves past the age of sixteen. You are a very rare case. We have been trying to hunt you down for over a year. In fact I was advised to drop your case.”

Blaine “So you have been following me?”

Smithe nodded “Yes. But like I said your case is highly unusual most students are located in one place they aren’t running around the country.”

“So you don’t stalk, drug, and drag every kid here? That’s comforting.” Blaine quipped.

Smith pursed his lips and chose to ignore his last remark. “Blaine why did you run away from home?”

Blaine looked down at his hands then nervously pulled at the ring that hung around his neck. He didn’t want to talk about this but it haunted him.
“Because I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out. Before-” he stopped his eyes cast down into the shadows.

“Before what?”

“Before I killed him.”

It scared Blaine how easily those words had slipped out of his mouth. Up until now he hadn’t even admitted to himself the reason why he had left.

“Killed who?”

“My father.” Blaine spit his face growing darker as he spoke.

Before Blaine had simply told himself he’d left because he needed to escape the constant slurs, the violence, the constant reminder that he was a worthless disappointment, a disgrace to his family name. When in reality he was scared he would kill him. Because the last time his father called him a ‘worthless fag’ he had mercilessly shoved him against a wall ignored the fact that his father’s head was bleeding, and threatened to kill him instead.

Smithe was silent.

“The nightmares are what drove me out though,” he paused “I dreamt of killing him, and every time I would just stare at him and torture him to death. The worst part is I-“ his voice shook “I enjoyed it.” He whispered faintly
Smithe stood up and put a hand on Blaines shoulder this time Blaine did not recoil he simply looked down ashamed at what he had become.
“Blaine everything you’re telling me is perfectly normal.”

Blaine head whipped up. He stared at the headmaster in disbelief.
“Normal? This is not normal. I shouldn’t want to kill my own father. I know he’s a pathetic excuse for a man and a terrible father if I could call him that but I shouldn’t want to kill him!” He shouted furiously.

“It’s okay baline.”

“No, its not! Why do you keep saying that?” Blaine asked as he stood up he began to back out of the room his hands shaking. A mixture of anger and frustration was now pulsing through him.

“It’s getting harder to control isn’t it?”

Blaine breathed deeply then nodded unable to speak.

“Blaine, please sit down.”

“NO! Not until you tell me what it is I’m doing here. I was stalked, drugged, and dragged here against my will and you have yet to explain anything to me. I mean I wake up in a tiny hospital ward and you just ask me to follow you and take me on a half dazed tour of your school for people you claim to be like me and I have no idea what that fucking means!” By now Blaines entire body was shaking. “I want answers. I need answers.” Blaine said as he tugged at his jacket.

Smithe nodded and went back to his brown leather chair. Baline remained standing in the middle of his office his chest heaving.

“I’m sorry you’re right I should have explained this sooner but it’s difficult it’s a lot to take in.”

Blaine remained silent and focused on subsiding all the emotions he was dealing with.

“You and every other student here posses the same qualities. You are different. I’m sure you known it for a while but you may not know the extent of just how different you are. There are things you may have already discovered such as the power of persuasion or mind control.”

Blaine looked up guiltily.

“It’s real then? I really can-” he voice drifted off.

Smithe nodded “Yes Blaine but that is merely the beginning.”

“I can’t believe this, what else?” Blaine whispered.

Smithe watched the broken boy tentatively. He knew he had to approach it calmly and with as much sensitivity as possible but he wasn’t sure how to tell him after what he had heard. He was scared of Blaines reaction not just because he sensed how powerful Blaine was but also how highly strung he was.

“Sit Blaine.”

Blaine slumped into the chair before him his hands nervously twisted together.

Smith remained calm as he spoke. “First I would like to remind you that what I am about to say does not change who you are at this moment.”

“Please just cut the crap and tell me.” Blaine said impatiently.

Smithe was not at all taken aback “Very well Blaine, you possess many qualities besides mind control you have remarkable, or superhuman strength, and speed. You also have the power to create illusions, drive people insane, you can control lights and shadows. Worst of all you have the power to torture, and kill people without ever laying a hand on them.”

Blaine shook his head “I’ve never done any of that. I don’t belong here. I haven’t killed anyone or messed with their minds. This is crazy.” he stood up nearly knocking over the chair behind him.

“I’m sorry but I have to go.”

“I know this is a lot to take in but you have to be honest with yourself.”
“I am and I know I’m not whatever it is you are describing. That isn’t me.” Blaine yelled.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to kill your dad?”

There was a long and painful silence.

Blaine shook his head “No, no that different. They were just stupid nightmares any psychologist could tell you that. It was probably caused by the neglect I'd been feeling, or the deeply rooted hatred I felt towards father.”
“You know that isn’t all Blaine. That doesn’t explain the way you easily control others, or that surge of power that seems to burst from you whenever you're upset, just like now.” Smithe said. He knew he was losing Blaine. The more he spoke the more Blaine buried himself in denial but he had to get through to him.

“That tangible sensation of the other students powers no ordinary human feels that Blaine.”

Blaine didn't respond.

He couldn't.

Instead he backed out of the office and ran.

He ran through the unfamiliar hallways of Dalton Academy with absolutely no direction.

He just wanted to get away.

He had to get away.

Everything was one big blur. He felt so lost, so angry, so defeated.

Suddenly he felt himself being tugged into a room.

“Let go!” He shouted as he blindly fought his attacker.

“Shhhh calm down, it’s okay.” a panicked voice murmured.

Blaine knew he should have fought he should have tried to get away but he didn't.

"It’s okay. You're okay." the gentle voice murmured

Blaines eyes remained shut as he shook his head.

No this was not okay.

He was not okay.