From day one, life at high school was definitely not what Kurt had been expecting.

Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam.

Every day it was the same. It was remarkably consistent throughout his first year; he shouldn't have expected the second to be any different but he'd had slight hope, though unacknowledged. But on the first day back, it was as if he'd never left.

Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam.

Eventually it became a part of his daily routine. When the jocks occasionally missed him in the hallways, or during that one week when the slushie machine was out of order, something felt not quite right because at the end of the day he still had his head held high.

Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam.

He lost count of the items of clothes that were ruined beyond repair, the amount of times his eyes burned with red dye, the number of bruises that bloomed and healed across his back and shoulders. The number of times he cried himself to sleep.

Dumpster toss, slushie facial, locker slam.

It was the aftermath that was the worst. At school he had his pride and the strength not to break down in front of his peers; but at night in his bed, curled under the covers with knees pulled tight to his chest, he had no one to hide from and the strength melted away. It was these nights that were filled with why does this have to happen? Why can't they leave me alone? Please let it get better, please, it has to get better…

Dumpster toss.

He tried to squash the hope that rose in him every morning that maybe today would be the day things would change. Maybe-

Slushie facial.

-someone would notice and help him because he was unable to help himself. Maybe today would be the day that he could slip into blissful anonymity within the school and avoid everything and everyone.

Locker slam.

Please let it get better. Please. It has to get better.