After Kurt was released, he did the only thing he could think of.  He returned to Cole's, endured a beating for disappearing despite trying to tell Cole he had been held hostage at the hospital, and then went back to turning tricks.  He didn't go back to Blaine's street though.  The clients had proven unkind, and the residents… well they weren't on his side as far as Kurt was concerned.  It had been nice to have someone who genuinely seemed to care about him, but the kid was clearly messed in the head if he thought he was going to get anywhere with Kurt.

With Quinn gone, Cole brought in a couple more girls and Kurt was booted from the basement and relegated to sleeping on the couch.  Honestly it wasn't a bad deal.  He didn't have anything more than the clothes on his back anyhow and the couch was more comfortable and the living room seemed to get better heat.  

Quinn being gone also meant that Kurt was expected to service Cole more, even if he had gotten more girls.  Cole also kept Kurt on a tighter leash.  Stay in the neighbourhood essentially.  It became more and more frequent that dates were scheduled for Kurt instead of him having to go looking for them.  On this end of town he didn't make as much, but the clients also didn't expect as much either, and he rarely had to endure any kind of physical backlash.  

The only thing that kept Kurt happy now were the visits from Big G who always doted on him - bringing him not only blow, but little gifts like a pair of headphones and cigarettes.  It went without saying that Kurt had to pay him back the only way he could, but it was worth it.  Someone made him feel wanted.

He missed Quinn.  Without her he felt a hole in his heart that he medicated with whatever he could find - alcohol, cigarettes, prescription meds the other girls offered him.  Without her he didn't know when to eat.  Sleep became something he did when no one else was around.  He didn't even bother with eyeliner most days.

Kurt had no idea how much time passed.  He kept no schedule and didn't bother checking clocks or calendars.  There were only three times of day for Kurt - asleep, awake and dry, awake and high.

Things started to change though when Big G stopped giving him attention.

At first Kurt thought that it was just something distracting the massive man, but after awhile, he knew that there must be something wrong with him that Big G was shooing him off in favour of any one of the other girls.  Kurt became bitter, lashing out at the girls like it was their fault until Cole had to intervene - usually with a boot to Kurt's side.

Then there was the afternoon that Kurt had been passed out on the couch, the T.V. blaring before him as the others watched whatever was on.  It must have been in a commercial or on some singing show because Kurt's hazy dreams suddenly became focused, a song playing that his mother used to hum all the time.  In his dream he saw his mom, so clearly, so beautiful.  He was a kid again, trying to get her to pay attention to what he was doing, trying to impress her, and she smiled at him.  She loved him.  She never asked for anything in return from him but to be himself and be happy.

When he awoke everyone was staring at him because he had started sobbing in his sleep.

The dream had been so real, so gut wrenching.  For the first time in months he looked at himself in the mirror.  He was pale, so much more so than normal.  His skin seemed to hang on him and his hair had grown out.  No wonder Big G didn't want him anymore.  He looked nothing like a doll anymore - he looked like a corpse.

He should have gone home with Quinn.  For the first time in two years, Kurt admitted to himself that he needed to get clean.

That was easier said than done though.  Everytime he tried to pass up the blow, he broke into a cold sweat.  His mind seemed only able to think about it when he tried to stay off of it and each time he tried to stop, he was getting a fix again within the week.

He became sick too.  At first it was just a little cough and cold, but Kurt was so worn down that his body wasn't able to fight it off.  It stacked then.  The cold became full on shivers, the cough became a dry hack compounded by mucus, then there was the insistent fever that came with a variety of frightful hallucinations.  When he tried to eat, he got sick within minutes, and his chest always hurt - whether he was breathing or coughing.  He tried to sleep it off, and falling asleep was easy because he felt continually exhausted, but Cole would often kick and hit at him, calling him lazy and trying to get him to go out and do his job.

No one wanted to touch a man though that was coughing up sputum as much as he was, bent over on the sidewalk and holding onto a lamppost to brace himself.

The only reason Kurt knew what day it was when things came to a head was because he had just been staring at the news.  He hadn't put it on that channel, but the remote was too far away and he felt too weak to reach out to change it.  The anchors had been talking about the spring carnival set for the weekend when Cole brought Big G in.  Normally Kurt would have stood up and offered the man a smile.  Today he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Look at him.  He's useless.”  Cole said.  It seemed like there was an echo in the room after Cole spoke, but Kurt couldn't figure out why.

“It is sad to say my friend, but the boy has run his course.  Short street life for sure.”

“I can't have him dying in here.  I got too many cops looking in on me and ready to bust my ass for nothing.”

“So you want me to drop him off.”

“Yah.  That'd be great actually.  Maybe you could grab some burgers on your way back too.  I've had a craving for fucking ever!”

They were talking about him.  Talking above him.  It sounded like it was all around him actually, and Kurt couldn't even find the energy to move his lips to try and respond.  His eyes looked down at the ground to the side of the couch - all the kleenex he had coughed into still bunched up down there, tinged with green, and yellow, and red.  Was he dying?

Maybe he was lucky and he was already dead.

He felt hands on him though, strong hands.  They picked him up like a rag doll and he was carried, but couldn't see clearly as he was moved.  Everything looked like the blurs on an action photo and it hurt his head so he kept his eyes clothes.  At one point he realized he was in car, being driven away, and then he ached horribly when his body was dropped somewhere.  All he could register was that it was dark wherever he was, and he was alone.

Alone.

In the story of his life, Kurt never thought he would end up dying alone.  When he first figured out what death was all about, he was sure his mom and dad would be there for him.  

Then his mom died.

Then he left behind his dad.

He thought he would have Quinn, but she was gone too.

And this was what his life had amounted to.