It's been two weeks since I went home for the weekend, but, knowing (and dreading) that I would have to actually eat food, I decided to run on the Dalton trail before school started on Friday morning. I needed to clear my head, shake off the odd haze I've been stuck in all week.

I skipped school on Tuesday, opting to sleep in. Blaine was so kind as to tell the administration that I wasn't feeling well which was nothing but the truth. Apparently, the nurse wanted to see me in her office, but I slept off the spinning feeling for eight straight hours, then slept another perfect seven that night as well.

During my Wednesday biology class, my chest began aching, and I couldn't seem to catch my breath. My teacher excused me, and I'm glad Blaine wasn't there to start fretting about me and getting on my case.

Again, the feeling went away, so I thought nothing of it.

Typically, I sit in my dorm while all of the other boys go eat dinner in the community dining hall. On Thursday, like always, Blaine knocked on the door to invite me to eat with him except this time he brought a tray of food. I have no clue as to how he got it before the serving bell, but I was too focused on him cornering me.

"Hey, baby," he greeted happily. Oh, this was going to go downhill quickly.

"Hi," I said blankly and let him come into my room.

"I brought you dinner today!" he demonstrated the plate of pasta and vegetables.

"I can see that."

"Will you eat it with me?" he pled.

"Blaine," I sighed, and his face fell. God, I hated constantly bringing his mood down. "I have a lot of homework to do."

"You've had all afternoon to do it," he retorted.

"Like I said, it's a lot." I turned back to my desk and stared at the textbook in front of me pretending to read. Blaine startled me by placing his hands on my shoulders after setting the food beside me.

"You're skeletal, baby."

Furious. I felt rage course through my veins, and my skin prickled.

"Fuck you, Blaine," I snapped. "Fuck you and Carole and the nurse and my dad. You don't get to be in my face with everything," I spewed viciously, still sitting. Blaine's hazel eyes filled with tears, many emotions ran across his face. I felt extremely guilty but didn't say anything. We just sat and stared at each other for a while, then he reached for my hand, which I allowed. The air changed.

"How much do you weigh?"

"Too much."

"What do you eat?"

"Water, coffee, apples, and crackers."

"Do you throw it up?"

"Not unless I want to."

"When will you stop?"

"When I reach my goal."

"Which is..?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Of course." His hand wandered to my wrist gently. His fingers caressed my wrist, wrapping around. They touched, even overlapped, each other. Again his hand wandered up, both hands traveling to my shoulders. Slowly, he pulled my big zip-up jacket off of my shoulders and helped me to stand from the chair.

It was so quiet. I let him lead me to my bed. We stood there and stared into each other's eyes, breathing in the silence. A hand traveled up my right arm.

His fingers wrapped around my bicep and just barely touched, but he had to squeeze. Blaine lifted an eyebrow at me.

"What do you think of that?"

"Fat."

He sucked in a breath and let it out with a whoosh. Suddenly, my lounge shirt was being lifted. I moved quickly on instinct to tug his hands away, but he was quicker to steady me.

"Stop struggling, Kurt," he whispered, sending a shiver through my body. I would've made a joke as to how creepy that command sounded, but his eyes put me in a trance. He pulled my shirt off and walked me to the full-length mirror beside the bathroom. Standing behind me and resting his head on my shoulder, Blaine's hand roamed over my body, which I was staring at in the mirror.

He traced my collarbones, sternum, ribs, hipbones. Soft skin = fat.

"What do you think of that?"

"Disgusting."

"Do you not see how your bones show?"

"No." Blaine slid his own shirt off and stood by my side. Our skin tones were stark contrasts.

"Do you think I'm fat?"

"No."

"What am I?"

"Fit. Lean. Beautiful," I listed off.

"What. Am. I?" he reiterated. My mind skipped a step, but I finally understood his question, and my breath hitched with emotion.

"My boyfriend."

"I love you very much, Kurt, and I need you to know that you're going too far with this."

"I… love you, too."

"Will you admit that you have a problem?" he asked, stepping closer to me, skin touching mine, breath ghosting over my lips.

"Maybe." And he kissed me. Deeply. Took my breath away.

"Let me show you how beautiful I think you are."

"Blaine," I began to argue, but he walked us to the bed. We lied down. Slowly, achingly, Blaine slid my sweatpants and underwear off. He began working his mouth from my feet up.

Worshipping me.

"I don't understand," I babbled when he brushed his lips over my knees, up my thighs. His hands gently gripped my waist.

"I'm crazy about you, Kurt," he murmured. "I love everything about you, and it has nothing to do with how thin or obese you are. It's never about your appearance." Tears filled my eyes.

"I care so much about you that I'll risk anything to keep you alive, but you need to stop fighting our help." He had moved up my stomach and chest, peppering kisses all over.

"I need... help?" I found myself wondering out loud.

"Yes, baby. You do."

A sob broke out through me. Blaine wrapped his arms around me tightly, holding me together. Everything felt so heavy, rivers running from my eyes, tremors racking my body.

"Aren't you tired of feeling this way?" Blaine's comforting voice asked.

"Yes," I blubbered. He kissed my cheek. We stayed silent for a moment, passion forgotten but pure love taking its place.

"I have to go talk with Wes about some Warbler stuff that he wanted help on, but I'll be back later," Blaine said, breaking the quiet. He was already tugging his shirt on.

"Okay."

"I love you," he affirmed, kissing my lips.

"Love you, too." I fell asleep shortly after he left, tears soaking my pillow. The last thought before I slipped into the land of dreams was, "Do I really want help?"

I woke up the next day with a head still brimming with tangled thoughts, so I went for a run.

BLAINE'S POV

I would have never told Kurt how his stunt in the park two weeks ago affected me. I turned into myself. The Warblers kept asking if I was okay.

"Fine. Just thinking." I was always in thought, it seemed. Somehow I needed to make Kurt feel beautiful. He wouldn't listen to my words.

Last night, I physically worshipped him, but I would also never tell him that his protruding ribs and razor sharp hipbones didn't turn me on.

I really actually had an excuse to leave Kurt for a while yesterday because Wes asked me if I could help him research some songs for when the Warblers were going to sing at the senior's center down the road in a couple of weeks. Afterwards, I returned to Kurt's room to find him asleep under the covers. I closed the door quietly. In perfect timing, too, because my phone began to ring loudly.

"Hello, this is Blaine Anderson," I greeted because I hadn't looked at the caller ID.

"Why hello, Blaine Anderson," Carole replied. I could hear her amused smile.

"Hi, Carole. What's up?" I slipped into a more casual tone.

"I just wanted to ask you if Kurt had gotten any better. We haven't heard from him in a while," she explained.

"He hasn't really. Why?"

"Burt and I are thinking we need to nip this in the bud immediately. We can't wait for Kurt to want help."

"I understand," I replied. This was good news.

"Since you're the one always with him, do you know exactly what symptoms he has? We'll need to tell the doctor when we make the appointment."

"Do you have a pen and paper or can you remember it all?"

"Oh… Yeah, I can get that," she said. There was rustling followed by a, "Ready."

"Uhm, he's tired, weak, dizzy, refuses food, always cold, hair falls out, twitchy, loses balance easily, and thinks he's fat no matter what anybody says."

"Okay, thank you Blaine," Carole sniffled on the line. "We'll definitely make the appointment for next week or as soon as possible."

"Good," I commented before adding, "What's going to happen to him?"

"That's a good question. I presume he'll be admitted as an inpatient at the psychiatric ward. Depending on how he takes treatment or what bodily damage he has done, he may need a feeding tube for a while to gain weight quickly."

"How long?"

"Depends."

"Can I visit him?"

"Yes."

"Good."

We exchanged goodbyes, and I hung up the phone feeling an odd sense of a weight lifted off of my shoulders that I had been dragging along for these past months. I was happy that my job was finished, that I got his parents to get him help. Now all I could do was support my boyfriend in recovery.

I never anticipated something terrible would happen.

KURT'S POV

Shoes tied. Headphones in. I stretched a bit in the earliest daylight and set off running along the Dalton trail that stretched about six miles in a circle. I jogged at a steady pace, expecting myself to have just enough time to make it back to my dorm, shower, and go to school.

Three songs later, I was exhausted.

Why? I didn't understand. What made it even weirder was that the exhaustion was more in my head and chest than moving limbs.

Oh, I just need water.

I'll get it later.

Four more songs and I had managed to push myself a total of two miles. The sweat was dripping, but I felt cold. Doesn't that mean that I'm burning fat? I didn't want to stop, but the common feeling of being on the brink of losing consciousness crept up on me.

Head pounding. Heart beating painfully, forcefully.

"Hey, Kurt!" Jeff from the Warblers announced himself. His sudden presence actually really scared me. He came up running behind me. I changed my gait to walk and yanked the headphones out of my ears.

"Hi, Jeff," I said, trying to hide the heavy breathing.

"Dude, are you okay?" he asked. His face had changed from a cordial smile to downright concern. I really wish he hadn't said anything because now my focus was on how bad I physically felt. Now that he brought it up, my vision began blackening.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

"Do you want to sit down?" Jeff offered, reaching out for me. His fingers wrapped around my forearm completely, and his face morphed into that look that everyone keeps fucking giving me. I did want to sit though, so I must've shrugged because I was lying on the ground in a moment. My entire brain seemed to shut off, just melted onto the concrete trail.

I lied on the ground, on the concrete Dalton trail, and tensed up before becoming unconscious.

Help me.

BLAINE'S POV

My cell phone rang during early breakfast time in the Dalton hall.

"Jeff?" I read from the caller ID.

"Blaine! You've got to come out to the trail. Kurt… he-he…" Jeff stammered nervously, perhaps frantically. This was an emergency call.

"What happened with him, Jeff?" I asked sternly, catching the attention of others at the table. I stood up and began sprinting towards the exit, leaving them behind.

"I've already called the ambulance because I'm not quite sure what to do. You've got to call his parents to let them know or something."

"What's happening?" I choked out as I picked up speed toward the trail.

"He's unconscious… and… and…" he dazed off.

"Come on, Jeff," I growled.

"Like… shaking?" I almost stopped running completely.

"A seizure?" I couldn't believe the words came out of my mouth.

"Huh?"

"Is he having a seizure?"

"I think?"

"What trail marker are you at?"

"Half-past mile two." I was only at the one-mile marker, but I pulled adrenaline out of me to sprint that last mile and a half, rounding a corner to come across Jeff standing over Kurt's shaking body.

"Thank God," Jeff said. I got fairly close to Kurt, because he was only trembling, not flailing limbs. From my health class I took that one time, I remembered that all I could do was put something soft under his head, so I stripped my blazer and placed it under his skull.

In the distance, Jeff and I both heard the sirens of the ambulance. It would still be a while for them to find us. Quickly thinking, I dialed the nurse.

"Hello, this is Nurse Nancy," she answered almost immediately.

"This is Blaine Anderson," I shortly said. She could hear the tension in my voice.

"What's wrong, Blaine?"

"I'm pretty sure you would want to know why an ambulance is coming to Dalton."

"Absolutely. What happened?"

"Kurt went running, and he's having a seizure now."

"Where?"

"Dalton trail, past the two-mile marker."

"Have you cushioned his head?"

"Yes."

"I'll be there soon."

"Okay, thanks." I dialed another number after the conversation ended. The phone rang and rang which confused and worried me, but then I heard her voice.

"Blaine?" she inquired.

"Yeah, Mrs. Hummel."

"What's wrong?"

"Kurt went running, and he's having a seizure." I heard her gasp.

"No," she whispered.

"The ambulance is coming, and I'm guessing he'll be taken to the Westerville Hospital."

"Okay," she said blankly. "We'll be there as soon as possible."

As the sirens became louder, Kurt stopped seizing and just breathed deeply. I crouched down again.

"Kurt. Baby, can you hear me?"

"Is that the nurse coming?" Jeff asked, looking out in the distance to a Dalton golf cart speeding towards us.

"Yeah. Will you go out to meet her and bring her here?"

"Sure," he agreed and ran off, waving his arms wildly.

"Kurt? Kurt?" I tried again. His bony fingers twitched. I held them gently. "Yes. Come on, Kurt. Wake up." His eyes fluttered open.

"Hi, beautiful. I'm right here. I've got you," I said, tears filling my eyes. Kurt's face scrunched in pain, and he let out a groan.

"I know. We'll get you help soon. It's okay." Footsteps came up behind me.

"The paramedics are right over there," the nurse said. "Did it just now stop?"

"Yeah. He's responsive, too." The paramedics did rush up then with a stretcher and equipment. While two worked over Kurt, one stood off to the side to speak with the nurse who had brought Kurt's files along with her. Quick-thinking.

"Jeff," I turned to the lanky blonde boy. "Go to school. Please don't tell anybody what happened until Kurt allows it, okay?"

"Okay," Jeff shrugged.

"You saved his life by finding him."

"Am I allowed to know what happened? Why the hell is he that thin?"

"I promise that I will tell you everything later."

KURT'S POV

Confused. Tired. Disoriented. A bit nauseous.

"Hey, there, buddy. Can you hear me?" a stranger's voice asked. Boy, did I really not want to open my eyes. It felt too bright. I really didn't even know where I was. Somebody was wrapping something around my arm. Something was placed over my mouth. I wanted to scream and thrash around to get them off of me, but just groaned. It took too much energy to move.

"Can you tell me your name?" the voice questioned.

"Kurt," I mumbled through the plastic breathing piece.

"Good. Listen, Kurt. You've just had a seizure, and we need to get you to the hospital to get checked out. According to your boyfriend, you've never had one before."

"Blaine!" my muffled voice yelped. Where did he go? Wasn't he here murmuring soothing things in my ear not too long ago?

"He's talking with someone right now, but he said he'll come with us in the ambulance," the man's voice said. I heard footsteps near my head.

"The nurse said he's anorexic," a distinctly female voice said.

"That explains a lot. Let's get him on the stretcher."

I was too exhausted to do anything like argue or even think. After I was jostled onto the stretcher, the paramedics rushed me off, assuring me that Blaine was following the. Inside the vehicle, they began attaching wires and beeping machines on me.

"Bradycardia. Stand-by for any signs of heart failure."

That made me terrified, and I began to cry. The sirens were too loud, there were too many people, and I wanted my dad. At least I had Blaine.

"You're doing so well, Kurt," he spoke lowly into my ear. Tears rolled down my face. "Please don't cry. It will get better. I love you so much. You have no idea how much. Will you open your eyes? Good. Thank you, baby. Look at those beautiful blue eyes. They were the first things I noticed when I first saw you. And I thought, 'Wow, how can he be that beautiful? He must be an angel.'" Blaine kept going with these comforting words, breathing on my face. I shut my eyes again, focusing on the lull of his voice instead of the blaring sirens.

Tired.

BURT'S POV

"Burt. Burt. Wake up!" Carole was shaking me violently awake Friday morning.

"What's wrong? What time is it?" I grumbled. I didn't have to be at work as early as Carole on weekdays.

Wait.

Why hadn't she left?

"What's wrong?" I repeated. This tie I sat up and saw Carole's teary eyes.

"It's Kurt," she said. My entire world stopped.

"No," I said and got out of bed. Dressing in five seconds flat, I had Carole explain the situation.

"He was running and had a seizure. They're at the Westerville Hospital, so it's going to be a long drive."

"I can't lose him, Carole," I stated so very obviously. She kissed me on the lips and hugged me in a loving embrace.

"Let's go."

Don't take my child away from me.

KURT'S POV

The paramedics and Blaine made me stay awake. They wanted me to remain very calm, too, as to not aggravate anything, but keeping stress away was difficult in the situation especially after Blaine had let me know that Burt and Carole were going to meet us at the hospital.

"They're going to hate me," I mumbled through the oxygen mask, but Blaine was able to understand me. He assured me that they weren't going to hate me. I couldn't help but wonder: what would this trip to the hospital entail?

I didn't have to wait long to figure out as the ambulance arrived at the destination shortly and unloaded me still lying on the gurney. Blaine walked alongside the paramedics, holding my hands. Inside of the emergency rom, people began speaking rapidly in medical jargon. I clenched my eyes shut to avoid the lash white lights.

"Seventeen-year old anorexic male, Kurt Hummel. Seizure while exercising, lasting seven minutes. Bradycardia."

"Have his guardians been contacted?"

"His parents have been contacted, released verbal permission, and are on their way."

"Can we get the kid out of here for a little while?"

"Sir, could you please step out to the waiting room? We'll let you know when you can see him."

"Uhm, sure. I guess so."

No. Not Blaine. He began to release his grip on my hand, and a fear surged through me.

"No!" I yelled, pulling the breathing mask off with shaky hands. "Don't go!"

"Mr. Hummel, please calm down."

"Don't touch me. Stop!" I shouted at the nurse who was escorting Blaine out already. My breathing became labored. The doctors began speaking rapidly and tried to constrain me.

"It'll be fine, Kurt! I love you," he said as a farewell before disappearing behind the wall with a nurse.

"Noooo!" I screamed shrilly. I kicked my legs, kicking nurses' hands away, and struggled against the wires on me.

Trapped. I felt trapped. Blaine wasn't there. My dad wasn't there. I had no one. There were strangers trying to hold me, and I couldn't take it.

Suddenly, a heavy grip came down on my chest, and I gasped. Pain shot through my left arm. My neck ached with such strain that I couldn't speak.

"He's going into cardiac arrest. Get the shock pads. Prepare for…"

There was so much commotion. Too much excitement. Too many wires. Harsh commands.

Mommy, please help me.

BLAINE'S POV

I understood why I needed to leave the room to allow the professionals their space to work, but Kurt's screaming made me want to stay. I reached that point where I couldn't believe this was happening. I was fairly sure that point was reached when I first saw Kurt shaking on the concrete, a slightly bluish tint in his face.

"Come, son," the nurse said and gently led me away. We hadn't gone but two steps when Kurt let out the most bloodcurdling scream followed shortly by doctors' shouts of cardiac arrest.

"No," I said out loud. I didn't want to believe it. Please, dear God, no. I felt myself being pulled to keep walking forward. The nurse situated me on a chair in the mostly empty emergency waiting area. My head dropped in my hands.

Deep breaths. Depp breaths. Deep-

Sobs.

I let loose the tears and made whimpering noises. I didn't care that the hospital workers looked at me with pathetic pity. I didn't actually notice them or anything. I didn't notice Carole approaching me.

"Oh, Blaine," she cooed and wrapped her arms around me in a much-needed mother's embrace. She was crying, too.

"What happened?" she asked, wiping my tears away. New ones quickly replaced them. I opened my mouth to speak but then caught sigh of Burt coming in from parking the car.

"Blaine?" Carole prompted again. I burst out into guttural cries and shook my head.

"What's going on? Where's Kurt?" Burt announced himself gruffly. It was obvious he had been crying, but now he was trying so hard to hold the emotions in.

"He-he," I stammered. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Deep-

"He went into cardiac arrest just now, and they're trying to stabilize him," I spit out. I really wish they hadn't heard from me that their son literally just died.

Burt crumpled to the floor at my feet. His emotions ran free. The tears reigned.

"Tell me my son's alive," he pled. I looked into those eyes, the eyes so fucking similar to Kurt's, and my heart broke.

"I don't know."

DOCTOR'S POV

"He's going into cardiac arrest," I quickly diagnosed, reading the heart monitors attached to the boy's chest and noticing his eyes roll back. The machine emitted a constant sound alerting the cessation of the muscle's beating.

"Prepare to shock."

"Stand Clear."

"Clear."

One zap of electricity by the paddles was all it took to start the sinoatrial node again. He remained unconscious and needed obvious help to breathe, but he was alive. The kid was lucky.

"We have a heartbeat."

"Prepare for intubation."

"I need 5 ccs of…"

"I'm going to step out to see if his parents are here," I alerted the team who was already working quickly to cover the frail boy with wires and tubes.

"Hummel?" I announced loudly in the otherwise silent waiting room. Three heads popped up immediately to my right.

"I'm his father," a gruff man with reddened eyes stood up. We shook hands.

"I'm Doctor Feldman, your son's attending doctor."

"I'm Burt Hummel. This is my wife, Carole. This is Blaine, Kurt's boyfriend," the man introduced. I shook hands with the emotional crew, making sure to bring empathy into my eyes.

"How is he?" the dark-haired teen asked. I had already been alerted that he was the kid's boyfriend; he had been the one who arrived with the ambulance. "Can we see him?"

"He is being moved to the critical care unit in a minute, so I'll take you to him after I've explained what happened."

"Is he stabilized? Blaine said he went into cardiac arrest," the wife spoke. I decided to move us out of the walkway to sit in the chairs.

"Yes. While his heart did stop for about ten seconds, we were able to shock it back, and we're confident there's no immediate danger," I reported. There was a collective relief off of their shoulders, and I completely understood that.

But here was where it became difficult. This wasn't normal trauma. This was, perhaps unintentional, suicide.

"However, Kurt has created many physiological troubles for himself through the anorexia, which," I paused to flip through the boy's files, "I was told he had been diagnosed with the eating disorder by a school nurse. I have to ask," I continued, "Has he not seen a doctor since he began to exhibit disordered eating?"

I didn't mean to make his parents feel guilty for not forcing help on their son sooner. Many parents find themselves in that situation: they want their kid to pull through by themselves so they don't have to be the "bad guys."

"We made an appointment with his general practitioner for next Tuesday. We- we," the wife tried to keep going but blubbered into tears. Mr. Hummel stroked her hand, matching tears in his own eyes.

"Well, he could've avoided this trip to the hospital had he not gone running, which triggered the seizure. The bradycardia, or too slow heartbeat, already put a lot of stress on Kurt's heart which he has obviously starved away at its size, but, by running and then having a seizure, there's no surprise he experienced heart failure," I informed dutifully.

"How is he stabilized?" Mr. Hummel questioned.

"As of right now, Kurt is on a ventilator, heart monitor, glucose drip, and a nasogastric feeding tube. Even though the heart attack lasted for mere seconds, his condition is critical enough to be treated in the Intensive Care Unit."

"How long will he be on the machines?" Carole asked.

"We still need to do a couple of tests like a brain scan and blood work, so he will stay in the ICU for at least five days. The heart monitors stay on for less than a day. The ventilator comes out when he wakes up."

"When he wakes up?" the boy began fretting.

"It's best that we keep his body systems at a stand-still under a medically-induced coma so that he has some time to rest. It won't last long, but it may keep him out for a number of hours."

"And when he wakes up?" the woman asked me.

"We will discuss what treatments for the anorexia are available, but, right now, keeping him alive is the most important thing." They all nodded. Nobody said anything, so I assumed the group wanted to see Kurt.

I led them to the fifth floor of the hospital, stopping at the nurses' station to check the room number.

Inside of room 516, two nurses were fixing wires and machines around the boy.

"I'll be checking in later," I said quietly because the Hummels and Kurt's boyfriend needed time to be with Kurt. The nurses left with me, already gossiping amongst each other.

A seventeen –year-old in the ICU was a very, very sad thing.

But my job disallowed emotion. Next patient.

BURT'S POV

Lying in that hospital bed, Kurt looked almost identical to Elizabeth when he was on her death bed.

Wires and tubes covering a skeleton.

How could it have gotten this far?

"My son," I whined to nobody and shuffled to his bedside. Even though there were two other peopel in the room, and Kurt probably couldn't or didn't want to listen to me, I spoke to my child.

"Kurt, what is your goal in this?" I wiped away tears. "I don't understand, son, and maybe I won't ever. I wish your mom was here because she could be able to help you in ways I could never, but I need you to fight this. I can't lose you, too, son. You've got to fight this."

I moved away from him, allowing Carole and Blaine to do whatever they wanted. I looked out the window where the sun was inappropriately shining. It was almost noon.

Elizabeth, help him.

KURT'S POV

I let go, lost control.

Of myself, my body, my mind.

I love this.

There was no colour when I passed out after Blaine left. Absence of colour, but I felt relief. My body disappeared, but my senses remained. And I sensed my mom. My deceased mother. She was here.

"Mommy," I called out. "I missed you. Talk to me. I know you're here."

"Sweetie, I'm never far away." The voice was so beautiful, melodic. It felt like home.

"I know," I said in response.

"What have you done to yourself, Kurtie?"

"What do you mean?"

"You killed yourself. Why?"

"I didn't kill myself."

"Your heart stopped. Did you want to die?"

"I- no."

"Why did you do it then?"

"I didn't know it could get so bad. I just wanted to be thin and perfect and actually see worth in myself."

"Haven't people fallen in love with you before you became thin?"

"I guess."

"Your worth is not defined by physical appearance. And if anyone judges you on your size, they are idiots because everyone's bodies are different."

"Okay."

"You'll get through this, but you've got to try. Please don't leave your father or that handsome boyfriend of yours."

"But apparently I killed myself. How am I supposed to stay with them?"

"You're going back soon."

"What?"

"Promise me you'll get better. For me, Kurtie?"

"I promise, Mommy," I muttered genuinely.

"I'll see you again when it's your time to leave."

"I trust you."

"Just remember, Kurt. You are stronger than any walls society puts up. Tell your father I'm always there for him, too. I love him still though I'm so glad he has Carole."

"Don't leave me."

"You have to go now, son," her voice began fading softly.

"Mommy!" I yelled.

"I love you so much, and I cannot express how proud I am of who you've become."

I saw a flash of red and was brought back to the emergency room. I didn't fight the help. I didn't even fight the feeding tube. The people spoke rapidly and loudly, prodding me with lights and needles and everything else imaginable.

I fell asleep when they administered the anesthesia to put the ventilator in.