“What did I do wrong!?” Kurt screamed in disgust. He had gone the whole week being pushed around and thrown against lockers; it was the period before the two-week spring break and Kurt just wanted to be left alone.
“Fags aren’t supposed to be smiling” David Karofsky said as he squeezed Kurt’s’ throat tighter. He punched him hard in the stomach. And Kurt crumpled. As David walked away, he made sure almost every boy on the football team gave him a firm kick to the torso.
Kurt waited until he was sure he was alone. He waited for someone to come and pick him up, but again, nobody seemed to care. He picked himself up and ran to his locker. Glee had already started, but had to do something. He ran into the bathroom.
�Frustrated and needing to let out some steam; he smiled when his blood ran red.
With his arms burning, Kurt ran into Glee 15 minutes late.
“Kurt, you’re late,” My Schue scolded.
“Sorry I was talking to a teacher and it ran a little...”
“Dude, what happened?” Finn shouted. Suddenly all the attention was brought to Kurt’s throat. Rachel ran over and ripped the scarf of off his neck. Everyone gasped as they looked at the dark blue and purple marks left by David.
“Arg, nothing it was nothing! David just wanted to remind me who was boss and that ‘Fags shouldn’t be smiling’” Kurt said in distaste.
“Not ok,” Finn shouted. As he spoke these words, all the boys in Glee club jumped up.
“No, stop it! Please,” Kurt cried. “He will only get angrier; I won’t see me again for another two weeks. Let’s not give him a reason to hurt me. Please!”
Everyone stopped, still clearly angry, but slowly took their seats.
To fill in the awkward pause, Mercedes jumped in and suggested songs they could sing today. Kurt sat in a daze as he watched everyone join in and sing ‘Friday’ by Rebecca Black. He hated being here; he just wanted to be at home and curl up in a ball.
The bell rang and everyone bolted from the room, including Kurt, who ran to his car and gunned it home. Once home, he made his way sneakily to his room so not to disturb Carol.
He flung his school bag onto his bed, locked his door, and ripped his shirt off. He examined the deep cuts that he had made today. The fresh cuts started directly at his wrist and slowly crept up his arm until they disappeared into scars.
Kurt knew he shouldn’t do it- scars lasted forever. And nobody wanted to have marked up skin. Nobody could love someone with marked up skin.
“Nobody can love fags,” Kurt reminded himself softly with a weak smile. “Nobody can ever love me.” Kurt began to cry.
I can’t cry,�Kurt thought to himself.�Crying means I’m weak.�Kurt looked at himself with disgust.
Making sure the door was locked, he grabbed a razor from under his bed. Gently, but with just enough pressure, he pressed the blade to his wrist. When the blade bit into his skin, he ripped it up his entire arm, watching in amazement as the power of the blade could rip open his closed cuts and cause even more pain than before. He was in such a blissful pain that he didn’t even hear the door open.
�“Kurt?” Rachel said, and he whipped around at the intruder, revealing everything to her. Her eyes widened; “Oh, Kurt, you really shouldn’t do this anymore, it’s so bad for you,” she cried.
Rachel crossed the room to Kurt’s heavily bleeding arms.
�“Rachel...How did you...? No, stop! I can do this myself” Kurt screamed when Rachel tried dressing the wound.
“Kurt...” Rachel had really begun to cry; tears rolled off of her cheeks and landed on Kurt’s open cuts, causing them to sting.
Frustrated, Kurt stood up and began slowly wrapping his arm. “Listen, Rachel, you don’t understand. You have Finn and Puck and all these boys�that actually want you. I’m alone. And nothing will change that!” Kurt said in exasperation.
“Kurt, you have other things to look forward to,” Rachel said pleadingly. “You have our two week vacation in the warm parts of Ohio…”
“Yeah, Rachel we’re going on a vacation with you, me, Finn, Puck, and Santana. I’m just dragged along because I’m Finn’s brother. This vacation will be miz.” Kurt said, finally sliding his shirt back on.
“Kurt...” Rachel whined, clearly uneasy about the whole situation, but at a loss for what to say.
“Enough; please just go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Rachel left, and Kurt began to pack. This was one of the down sides of self-harm; now he couldn’t were short sleeves or bathing suits all vacation without raising serious questions.
�That night, Kurt lay in his bed staring at his ceiling and hoping for another life, something he did far too often lately. He turned on his side and let a hot tear stream down his face. He wished again and again to be straight or at least find someone gay he could just talk to, someone who could relate to the hell he was living every day. He turned on to his stomach, hoping in his sleep he might just suffocate, �if he was lucky.