Kurt's POV:

"No, Karofsky, no," I try to say as the man comes after me with a knife. He'd raped me again, and this time, I made the mistake of telling Blaine about it.

Which is why Blaine is currently laying, naked and dead, on the floor behind Karofsky, still bleeding from multiple stab wounds. I don't know why I'm pleading with Karofsky. I have no reason to live; I'm a horrible and dirty person. The only good thing in my life is Blaine, and now he's gone. Karofsky laughs a cold, hard laugh and I see a glint of insanity in his eyes. I know I can't stop him from killing me. He warned me this would happen, that he would kill me if I told anyone.

This is my fault. It's my fault Blaine was raped and is dead on the ground. I shouldn't have burdened him with my problems. It only got him hurt. Karofsky's now on top of me, pinning me to the ground. He has the knife wielded in the air, ready to strike and kill me in seconds. But before he does that, he punches me, in the jaw, the eye, the cheek. Anywhere he has access to on my face. He knees me mulitple times in a horrible place and then hits me in the ribs. I gasp for air as he punches my stomach and chest.

"Please, stop. J-just kill me now," I manage to choke out. Karofsky sneers and then brings the knife down onto my chest.

I wake with a start out of my dream. Tears are already falling out of my eyes and the bed sheets are tangled in a mess with my legs. I must have thrashed around a lot with my nightmare.

At first, I don't know what to do, but then I remember what I have hidden in my medicine cabinet. I try to make as little noise as possible, as it's a Saturday so everyone in my house is probably still sleeping. I slowly open the door to the cabinet and pull out the shard of glass. I stare at it for ten seconds before bringing it roughly down on my wrist.

As I draw blood, I feel relief wash through me and I try to forget about the nightmare and Karofsky.I feel myself getting less and less stressed and anguished as I cut, alternating from wrist to wrist. Once I feel as if that's enough, I carefully wash out the cuts and wrap another bandage over them.

Then I remember I have a date with Blaine today and feel another bout of anxiety. I reach for the glass again. Since I no longer have room to cut on my wrists, I pull up my shirt and slice one, two, three times evenly on my stomach. Once again, I carefully tend to the cuts. Now, I can do anything. Including my date with Blaine tonight.

One thing was for sure, though. I could not tell my boyfriend about Karofsky. I couldn't tell anyone about Karofsky.

I cut myself again before Blaine got to my house. Surprisingly, I'm not nervous as Blaine hugs me and then sits down on the couch in the living room. "I missed you during Algebra yesterday," He says, curiously. "Where were you?"

"Uh, I had a headache so I decided to head home," I say. He nods, believing my lie. I hate lying to my boyfriend, but I know I have to for our safety, more his than mine. I press my cuts to my leg, recieving strength from the pain.

"So, whats for dinner?" Blaine asks. We decided to stay in tonight because we didn't want to see all the people giving us disapproving glares; we also didn't want to run into anybody from school. That happened once, and we didn't want it to ruin our date again.

"I made chicken parmesan, your favorite," I say. I'd decided to make Blaine's favorite to partially make up for me lying to him and cheating. I pull the steaming pan of Italian out of the oven and put a large helping on Blaine's plate.

"Mmm, smells, delicious. Thank you so much for making dinner, Kurt," Blaine says, licking his lips at the sight of my cooking.

"Oh, it was nothing. You know how much I love to cook," I say.

"Well, you know how much I love you," Blaine says, looking at me adoringly.

"I love you, too," I reply, blushing. And then his plate of food is ignored as he kisses me sweetly. I kiss him back, ecstatic that I can still kiss my boyfriend with what Karofsky did to me. I start to pull away, so Blaine and I can get back to our food, but he pulls me closer, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue in my mouth.

And suddenly, Blaine's not the one who's kissing me, Karofsky's the one who is. And he chokes me with his tongue and scrambles to get my shirt off. It's all too much, too fast; maybe it wasn't before Karofsky happened, but its sure as hell is now. I shove Blaine off of me and race downstairs, quickly locking the door to my room and heading for the en suite bathroom. I scramble to get the medicine cabinet open and grab the piece of glass hidden there. I hear Blaine struggling to get the door open, hear him asking me what's wrong, but I don't care. All I care about is opening my flesh and getting Karofsky off me.

I know I shouldn't cut my wrists again because there's too much unhealed cuts there, but I don't care. I shove the sleeve of my shirt up and push the broken glass against my skin. I sigh in relief as it breaks skin. I couldn't face myself for lying to Blaine, I have to punish myself. I don't even know why he would want me; I'm far too imperfect. I cut more and more, deeper and deeper, until I hear Blaine break the door open. I cut at least four more times, trying to get the most of what time I have, but then Blaine is exclaiming 'Oh, my God,' and picking me up, forcing the piece of glass out of my hand and throwing it into the trash.

He carries me into my room and sits on the bed, holding me tightly. I start crying into his neck, and he rubs circles onto my back whispering sweet nothings to me. "It's okay, Kurt. You're okay," He says. I stop crying and try to make myself presentable. I get off of Blaine and walk back into the bathroom to assess to my wounds. I wash them with hydrogen pyroxide and then examine them to make sure they're not too bad. Some of them definitely need stitches, but I just put butterfly strips over them and make sure they stop bleeding. I turn to see Blaine watching me in the doorway, a few tears falling out of his eyes.

"Why, Kurt?" He asks, his eyes baring into my soul.

"Because I'm not perfect. You don't want me. I'm an inexperienced, unsexy, baby penguin. Cutting makes me perfect. When you kissed me, I just, God, I just needed to be perfect for you in that moment," I say. All of it's the truth, but not the whole truth.

"Come, here, Kurt," Blaine says, opening his arms up for me to go into. I walk up to him and hesitantly embrace him. "You are perfect, Kurt. You are a very sexy, very appealing grown man. Even if you are inexperienced. I love you for you, Kurt." He brings my wrist up to his lips and kisses each and every one of my cuts. "Promise me you'll stop, Kurt?"

No, I think, but out loud I say, "Yes, Blaine. I'm sorry." I truly was sorry, but for being a weak, imperfect, cheating slut, who doesn't deserve Blaine.

"Okay," He says. "I'm never leaving your side tomorrow, or the next day or the next day. I will show you how perfect you are."