As a reminder, the guards only know the prisoners by number and refer to them that way throughout the study. It can get confusing at times, so here’s the line-up of prisoners, guards, and the prisoners’ numbers for your reference.

The Line-Up

Nick - Prisoner 137 - Guarded by Sebastian Smythe

Jeff - Prisoner 138 - Guarded by Sebastian Smythe

Kurt - Prisoner 219 - Guarded by Blaine Anderson

Puck - Prisoner 378 - Guarded by David Karofsky

Sam - Prisoner 474 - Guarded by David Karofsky

“There were three types of guards. First, there were tough but fair guards who followed prison rules. Second, there were “good guys” who did little favors for the prisoners and never punished them. And finally, about a third of the guards were hostile, arbitrary, and inventive in their forms of prisoner humiliation. These guards appeared to thoroughly enjoy the power they wielded, yet none of our preliminary personality tests were able to predict this behavior. The only link between personality and prison behavior was a finding that prisoners with a high degree of authoritarianism endured our authoritarian prison environment longer than did other prisoners.” - Phillip Zimbardo, The Stanford Prison Experiment

Perceived Control: The belief that one has the ability to make a difference in the course or the consequences of some event or experience; often helpful in dealing with stressors.

It was obvious to Blaine how much Prisoner 219 had missed his family from the way he was blinking rapidly, trying to keep tears from leaking out of the corners of his eyes, just as Blaine had done in the shower the night before. Blaine shuddered slightly at the memory of their confrontation. What had Prisoner 378 said? Protect him. And more importantly: don’t hurt him again.

Blaine took a deep breath, finally resolved. He turned his chair so that he was facing away from the observation mirror, leaving the intercom switch untouched. He didn’t care what Karofsky and Sebastian had told him. He wasn’t going to spy on Prisoner 219’s private time with his family. If Prisoner 219 wanted to tell his parents about the abuses he’d suffered here, Blaine wasn’t going to do anything to stop him. In fact, part of him almost wished that Prisoner 219 would tell his parents and get the study shut down.

Burt smiled with relief as he pulled Kurt into a tight hug. Kurt looked exhausted and a bit pale, but alive and uninjured, as best as Burt could tell. He wrapped his arms tightly around Kurt and patted his back, slightly startled by the intensity of Kurt’s grip.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” he asked Kurt, attempting to pull back from the hug so that he could look Kurt in the eyes. But Kurt simply nodded into his dad’s shoulder and gripped him tighter, refusing to break away from the hug just yet.

Burt gave a surprised and worried glance to Carole who shrugged helplessly, not expecting such a strong reaction from Kurt. After a few more seconds, Kurt pulled away, giving his dad a sheepish, slightly apologetic look before allowing himself to be pulled into another hug by Carole.

“Good to see you, sweetie,” Carole said as she hugged him in turn. “They treating you okay in here? Getting enough to eat and all that?” Again, Kurt merely nodded silently against her embrace.

“It’s good to see you guys,” Kurt started, motioning for them to take a seat as he sank into a folding chair facing them. “I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve missed you too, Kurt,” Burt answered automatically. “When we didn’t hear from you over the weekend, we were….” Burt trailed off, trying to find the right words before starting again. “We’ve been really worried about you Kurt. You take off like that in handcuffs and a squad car and don’t even tell us where you are going or what you’re going to be doing. Carole and I have been worried sick, not knowing if something happened to you or if you were okay.”

“I’m sorry…” Kurt sighed. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m totally fine, though. Nothing to be worried about, Dad.”

“Really, kid? That’s not what I’m seeing here. You look exhausted. What’s going on?”

Kurt chewed on the inside of his lip, trying to find the right words to express what had happened here so far. Kurt had only been in the “experiment” for three days, but with each passing hour, it felt less like a study and more like his life. How could he explain to his dad that he was Prisoner 219 now? And that Prisoner 219 couldn’t let the Officer Smythes and Karofskys of the world to win. Kurt hadn’t always been strong enough in himself to stand and fight for what was right, but now, in this moment; he knew this was something he could do. And he had to try, if only for the thirteen year old boy inside him who’d spent his days climbing out of dumpsters and hiding his bruises under long sleeves.

“I am tired,” Kurt admitted reluctantly. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s like a real prison…or what I imagine a real prison would be like, given that I don’t have any real experience on the inside.”

“What does that mean?” Burt asked warily. “Because I swear if any of those guards are hurting you, I’m going to…”

“Dad, stop,” Kurt commanded, looking to Carole pleadingly.

Carole took Burt’s hand and admonished him as well. “Let’s let Kurt talk, honey. Just calm down.”

“No one’s hurting me, Dad. The one rule isn’t that they can’t hit us or get physical with us.”

“The fact that they need to state that rule is a bit disturbing, Kurt,” Burt replied. “What are they doing to you in here?”

“Nothing major…just like waking us up in the middle of the night, forcing us to do hundreds of push ups, that kind of thing,” Kurt tried to reply casually, but already anticipating a less than positive reaction from his dad.

“What?” Burt cried, confused. “Okay, this is ridiculous. Why don’t you just come home with us, Kurt? You don’t need to put up with this crap. I don’t know what that Doctor Cohen’s trying to accomplish here, but it isn’t worth making yourself miserable.”

“No – no, Dad. I’m staying. I have to stay,” Kurt responded, intent.

“Kurt, if you are worried about money, we can help you out…” Burt offered.

“It’s not about that, Dad,” Kurt insisted. He looked his father in the eyes, seeing his disbelief reflected back. “It really isn’t about the money, I swear. I don’t know how to explain it except to say that this is something I need to do for myself.”

“But why Kurt? You don’t have anything to prove,” Burt questioned, still uneasy. He could see the resolve in Kurt’s face only growing, but he just didn’t understand how a silly “acting job” and research experiment had gotten Kurt so worked up. What had this Doctor Cohen guy done to his boy?

“I do, Dad. I do have something to prove. Not to anyone else, but to myself, okay? I’ve lived through much worse than this, and I’m a lot stronger now than I think you give me credit for. I live in New York, for christsakes. I think I can handle a few Lima bullies.” Kurt looked at his dad, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Before Burt could respond, there was a knock at the door and Blaine poked his head into the room, looking apologetic. “Sorry guys, I hate to interrupt, but the ten minutes are up and we need to get to our next…uh….activity. But I’ll give you a minute to say your goodbyes now,” Blaine offered. “I’ll…uh….I’ll be in the hall when you’re done.”

Burt scowled, but Kurt and Carole quickly climbed to their feet, seemingly unsurprised.

“Thank you guys so much for coming,” Kurt said gratefully. “I know it’s a pretty long drive, especially for a 10 minute meeting, but you don’t know how much I needed to see you.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Carole responded, pulling Kurt in for another hug. “You take care of yourself, okay dear? Try to get some rest if you can. You look like you need it.”

Kurt nodded, turning to his dad, ready to embrace him as well. But Burt hung back, studying Kurt’s face intensely, still seeming unsure. “Kurt, are you sure about this?” he asked.

“Yes, Dad. I am. I need to do this, okay?” Kurt answered, holding his father’s eyes with a steady, determined gaze of his own.

Burt nodded once, sighing a little, saying “I always knew you were the strong one, kid. I love you.” He pulled Kurt in for a hug, squeezing him tight. “But be careful, okay Kurt? And promise me you’ll leave if anything gets unsafe, deal?”

Kurt pulled back, nodding at his dad. “I promise. I will. But nothing’s going to happen. I’ll see you soon. Just another week and a half, okay?” Kurt’s voice shook a little as he tried to reassure his dad. The honest truth was that he’d been in the prison for barely three days and it already felt like an eternity. He was terrified of what could happen over the course of the next week and a half. He bit his lip and swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat and tears threatening to spill over his cheeks. With another whispered “I love you” and a wave, Carole and Burt stepped through the door and down the hall, leaving Kurt completely and utterly alone.

Blaine felt horrible when he had to tell Prisoner 219 and his family that their time was up. He could see how Prisoner 219’s face had fallen at the interruption, obviously not ready to say goodbye. Blaine tried not to notice how Prisoner 219’s father had taken his hand, squeezing it a little, as if he was worried that he might be literally torn away from his son without the physical tether. But the image burrowed its way into Blaine’s mind, unbidden, standing in stark contrast to his own parental experience. Prisoner 219’s father was fighting to stay with his son, while Blaine’s own father had fought to rid his home of his only child. Less than week later, Blaine’s loss and rejection were still painfully raw, an open wound that hadn’t been given a chance to scab over. But feeling the surprisingly fresh jolt of pain at seeing everything he’d never had in a father reflected back in a single gesture, Blaine was starting to wonder if the wound could ever really heal.

After warning Prisoner 219 that his time was nearly up, Blaine stepped into the hall, anxious to give them space and privacy in which to say their goodbyes. As Blaine waited patiently, the anxiety he’d been trying to ignore all day started rising once again. He didn’t know what Sebastian and Karofsky had in store for the prisoners after the parents left, but he knew it wouldn’t be good. Karofsky had all but promised that there would be an escalation in the level of prisoner abuse, and even worse, Sebastian had been quick to remind Blaine that his full cooperation was expected. There would be no place for passivity, for taking the back seat during this count, it seemed. But more than ever, Blaine was resolved to protect Prisoner 219, consequences be damned. The only question was, when the time came, would Blaine have the courage to do what needed to be done to keep his prisoner safe?”

Blaine was so lost in thought that he jumped slightly as the door to the visiting room swung open, revealing Prisoner 219’s parents leaving reluctantly, waving goodbye to their son. Prisoner 219 also seemed as if he’d been caught slightly off guard, and for a moment, Blaine got a rare glimpse of Prisoner 219 when all his walls were down. From his rapid blinking and slightly trembling chin, Blaine could see that Prisoner 219 was fighting hard to keep himself together. There was a slight desperation, a longing that Blaine had never seen before that radiated from Prisoner 219’s face. But though Prisoner 219 looked lost and scared to Blaine in that instant that he allowed himself to simply be, Blaine was even more fascinated by what he did next.

Unaware that Blaine was watching him, Prisoner 219 roughly scrubbed a hand over his face, erasing any vestiges of tears from his cheeks. He took a deep breath, forcing his shoulders to relax and roll backward until he was no longer hunched and lost, but determined and resolved. Prisoner 219 must have felt eyes upon him because suddenly his gaze trailed upwards, locking eyes with Blaine’s. Blaine barely suppressed a gasp at the fire and resolve he saw burning in Prisoner 219’s gaze. The gaze spoke strongly to Blaine, saying everything that Prisoner 219 was thinking and feeling. From now on, I’m not playing. I’m standing up for myself and you can’t touch me. Nobody can.

Message received.

Carole slid her arm through Burt’s as the stepped out into the waning sunlight of a hazy summer night. She glanced at him, frowning as she saw how he was staring off into space, clearly lost in private thoughts.

“Burt, what’s wrong?” Carole asked. “You saw Kurt, he’s doing fine. I know it’s a little strange, but he’s unharmed, isn’t that enough?”

“I still don’t like the look of it,” Burt muttered. “Something’s not sitting well with me. There’s got to be something they’re not telling us here. Kurt seemed off to me somehow. And who knows if what he said is true. You heard Doctor Cohen, right? He told us that the visits were monitored. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kurt was just saying what he’d been told to say. I can see them threatening him if he says anything bad about the study, can’t you?”

Carole rolled her eyes at Burt’s slightly ridiculous theory. “Honey, really? I don’t see it that way at all. It’s just an interesting new experience. A research experiment. Besides, do you think the university would let him get away with abusing students under the guise of a research study on their campus? I seriously doubt it.”

Burt hummed in response, clearly mulling Carole’s argument over in his mind. “You may have a point there, but it doesn’t take away the fact that I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I think I’m going to find out more about this Doctor Cohen. Something about him seems off to me. I mean, if there were nothing to worry about, why wouldn’t he have stayed and answered our questions? I’m going to do some research. And if I find anything that proves to me he shouldn’t be trusted, I’m calling the university to get this thing shut down. Period.”

Part 2

As the double doors to the hallway clanged shut, Blaine stood silently with Prisoner 219, wanting to give him a few more precious seconds to collect his thoughts before having to deal with Karofsky, Sebastian, and what promised to be another brutal count. 219 wasn’t as slumped and lost as he’d been earlier, but Blaine could see that the slightly haunted look still hadn’t left his eyes. Blaine ached with the need to reassure Prisoner 219 in some way, wanting so badly to tell him that he was ready protect him, no matter what the cost. But he knew there was no point as his words would only fall on deaf ears. Prisoner 219 didn’t trust Blaine, and who could blame him really? Blaine hadn’t earned Prisoner 219’s trust. Not yet anyways.

Blaine hazarded a glimpse at Prisoner 219’s face, wanting to see if his walls were up once again. Blaine hated that those walls kept him out, but at the same time, he could see the necessity of them, especially in these extreme circumstances. Prisoner 219 tried to return Blaine’s gaze with a casual smile, but only the ghost of a smile flickered across his face, making it clear that he was far from happy.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked gently, expecting a sharp, bitter reply. Or none at all.

But Prisoner 219 surprised him yet again. “I’m….yeah…I’m not exactly okay, just yet. But I think I’m getting there.”

Blaine couldn’t pull himself away from Prisoner 219’s hypnotizing gaze so he simply stared, wondering about the contradiction his statement implied and the resolve still burning bright in his eyes. It felt like Prisoner 219 had come to some sort of impasse, as if he’d made a plan to act. How, Blaine wasn’t entirely sure just yet, but he found himself wondering…worrying really that his plan might bring him more abuse from the other guards.

Prisoner 219 was the first to break eye contact, blushing slightly as he focused on the floor. So quiet that Blaine barely heard it at first, he whispered “thanks,” his words obviously genuine for once.

Blaine simply smiled. “Anytime.”

With a deep breath, Prisoner 219 looked up again, smiling even more broadly at Blaine, even though Blaine could see the tears still sparkling in his eyes, not forgotten. He gazed down the hall, mentally preparing himself for his return to prison life.

Blaine followed his gaze and sighed. “Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand to take 219’s arm in his.

Prisoner 219 rested his hand on Blaine’s forearm. “Lead the way,” he replied, allowing himself to be led towards the prison cells once more.

Anderson reluctantly led Kurt back from the visitation room to the hallway, strengthening his grip as he got closer to the others, purely for show. Despite appearances, Anderson’s grip was solid, comforting even, making Kurt strangely grateful for his presence. Among the noise, chaos, and abuses of the prison, Anderson had given him a small moment of humanity. It didn’t change things; Kurt was still a prisoner and Anderson his guard. But it did give Kurt a tiny flicker of hope when he’d thought all hope would be extinguished as soon as his dad and Carole left. Because staring into Anderson’s warm hazel eyes, Kurt had known the truth that he’d been trying to avoid all this time. He’d closed himself off because Anderson could see him. The real him. And in this environment, that was a scary thing.

Kurt took his place in line with. As usual, Prisoner 138 was to his right but to his left, Prisoner 474 now stood in the gap left by Prisoner 378. Kurt found himself wishing that he still had Prisoner 378 to rely on. It was odd, but he’d felt a strange kinship with Prisoner 378 in those few days they’d shared today despite the fact that they obviously came from two entirely different worlds. And now that Kurt was resolved to fight, he found himself wishing for someone willing to fight with him. Prisoner 474 was clearly not that person. While Kurt had felt isolated from the other prisoners somewhat due to the fact that he was the only prisoner not sharing a cell, he’d gotten to know the other prisoners at least a little bit. Prisoners 137 and 138 were joined at the hip, silently suffering through the counts and various abuses together. Kurt had noticed how attentive Prisoner 137 was to Prisoner 138. While 138 was several inches taller than 137, his white blond hair, pale skin, and lanky frame made him seem fragile. Very quickly, 137 had become protective of 138, checking in with him frequently throughout the counts and doting on him much like an older brother might with a younger sibling.

It was sweet to see the two of them weather the experience together, but it also made Kurt’s chest ache slightly with the reminder that he was all alone in this experience. He took a deep breath and stood straighter, drawing up to his full height as he tried to look stronger and braver than he felt inside. He wouldn’t give Karofsky and Sebastian the pleasure of knowing that they could affect him, that they could break his spirit. Courage. Anderson caught his eye, watching him in that way that he seemed to be do increasingly often. Anderson gave him a shy smile, being careful that the expression did not linger, lest the other guards see it and harass him for it. Kurt felt a peace settle over him as the warmth of Anderson’s smile reminded of something he hadn’t considered until now. Maybe he wasn’t alone after all.

A shrill bleat from a whistle startled Kurt and the remaining prisoners who were all dead on their feet at this point from exhaustion, both physical and emotional. Kurt rolled his eyes as Karofsky continued pacing in front of the assembled prisoners, rubbing his hands together as though he were a caricature of some cheesy movie villain, looking ready to inflict the torture he had missed out on earlier on the prisoners.

“All right, ladies”, Karofsky said, rubbing his palms together. “Playtime’s over. We’re done babying you like your mommies and daddies did. Everyone get your asses on the floor and do 50 sit-ups. When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to sit down…I mean up….sit up…for a week,” Karofsky shouted.

Prisoner 219 couldn’t help the smirk and slight giggle that escaped. The dumbass Neanderthal had just told them they wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week. Clearly, Karofsky didn’t know what that implied. As Kurt watched Karofsky’s face immediately flush red, he changed his mind. Maybe he did know what he’d just said. Karofsky’s eyes narrowed in rage, focusing in on Kurt, his pent up rage now bubbling over to the surface.

“You think that’s funny, fag? You think I’m fucking with you? If these sit ups are so easy for you, let’s make it a little tougher.” Karofsky eyes flitted around the room, landing on Prisoner 474 who was still doing sit-ups, counting silently as he breathed hard with the effort, totally submissive and obedient to the guards, just as he’d been since Day 1.

“474, get your ass over here,” Karofsky bellowed, gesturing. Without a word, Prisoner 474 rose to his feet, walking over to Karofsky and Prisoner 219, standing at attention, clearly awaiting his next order.

“Alright 219, if sit ups are so easy that you have time to laugh, let’s try something harder. I doubt that you lift anything than a can of hairspray, so how about push ups?”

Kurt simply shrugged before nonchalantly flipping over into a push up position.

“Not so fast, homo. 474 here is going to make sure you don’t cheat. 474, I want you to sit on his back. I’m sure you have guys on top of you all the time after all. Give me 100 push ups. If you give me wussy push-ups or stop even for a second, I’ll make you start the count all over too. Got it?”

Kurt let out a wheezy breath as 474 plopped down on his back without so much a glance or word of warning, his arms shaking with the effort of holding 474’s weight. He grit his teeth, as he slowly began lowering his arms towards the cold tile floor. How was he ever going to get through 100 of these?

Blaine’s felt a hot lick of fury grow as he watched 474 unceremoniously dump his full weight on top of Prisoner 219. Blaine watched as 219 struggled to remain in push up position, his arms shaking with the effort of supporting not only his weight but 474’s as well. Blaine had been wary of 474 from the start. He hated the robotic way in which 474 followed orders, as if he had no authority or agency of his own. And while most of the prisoners made their dissatisfaction with what they were being asked to do known in one way or another, 474 responded to every command and insult as if he was being asked if he wanted paper or plastic bags at the grocery store. His mildness in the face of such an extreme circumstances was disconcerting. Infuriating, really.

Blaine tried to focus on his anger instead of worry. It was hard, watching Prisoner 219 struggling. His gasping breaths and occasional grunts echoed throughout the cavernous basement as he continued to perform push-ups. 38 – 39 – 40. He had no idea how 219 hadn’t collapsed yet. Blaine was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted and he hadn’t been put through one tenth of what 219 had endured thus far.

Blaine briefly saw white as 219 went down on one knee with a brief hiss and cry of pain. He landed hard, the weight of 474 on his back causing his leg to smash harshly into the unforgiving cold tile floor. Blaine’s hands balled into his fists as he watched 474 give a small shrug, seeming unconcerned that his weight had likely just injured his fellow prisoner. What happened to the prisoners banding together? They should be helping each other out, supporting one another. But sadly, ever since Prisoner 378 had left, it had clearly become ever man for himself.

Without thinking, Blaine squatted down until he was directly in front of Prisoner 219. 219 was rubbing his knee which was already starting to bruise. “You okay?” Blaine whispered gently, his eyes boring into 219’s.

Prisoner 219’s eyes went wide, giving him a look of confusion that clearly read “Are you crazy?” But Blaine didn’t care what the other guards were thinking. He just needed to know that 219 was safe. So Blaine continued to stare at Prisoner 219 until he finally gave in, biting his lip and rolling his eyes slightly, before almost imperceptibly shaking his head no. Fuck.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Karofsky called to Blaine, obviously furious at Blaine’s response or lack thereof to Prisoner 219 failing to complete his assigned 100 push-ups. “Alright 219, if you don’t get your delicate girly bits up and back to doing push ups in by the count of 5, you’re going to have to do 200 more push-ups instead of 100, got it? And 474, did I tell you that you could get off him? Get your ass back on his back or you’re going to join him in doing 100 push ups.”

Before Blaine could come up with a response, a way to react to Karofsky’s newest orders, Prisoner 219 slowly lifted himself into a push up position once more, grimacing as he straightened out his leg, putting weight on his bruised knee. He lifted his head momentarily, making eye contact with Blaine once more.

“Go away, Anderson,” he muttered, quietly enough that Blaine had to lean forward just to hear what he said. “I’ve got this.” Prisoner 219 took a deep breath, preparing to start his agonizing push-ups again. But he was wholly unprepared for the sudden weight of Prisoner 474 dropping his considerable weight on his back once more without warning. So once again, Blaine watched in horror as Prisoner 219 crashed to the floor again, his body going out from under him with the weight of 474’s body. 474 startled slightly at the sudden jolt and then did something that caused Blaine to lose it completely. He yawned.

“That’s it, 474!” Blaine shouted, his voice echoing loudly as the sound bounced off the heavy cement walls. “On your feet. Now! I’m not fucking kidding. Up!”

Karofsky had started to step forward, intending to discipline both Prisoner 219 and Anderson. But he froze as Anderson started shouting, seeing his eyes darken and the tendons stand out in Anderson’s neck as he continued to yell furiously.

Sebastian stepped forward, placing a restraining arm on Karofsky’s arm. “Let him be. This is what we’ve been waiting for. He’s finally taking things seriously. I’m ready to see him go all psycho on 474, aren’t you?”

Karofsky rolled his eyes, but did not step further. “Whatever, but 219 isn’t getting off that easy. I know Anderson can’t stop from making googly eyes with 219, but someone needs to teach that fag a lesson before he gets out of hand and starts causing trouble like 378.”

“Patience love,” Sebastian purred. “And the googly eyes are to be expected. Everyone in this prison is gay or haven’t you noticed? Hetero is the minority here.”

“What? Umm, everyone except me, maybe. I’m not down with that homo shit.”

“Riiiiiiiight,” Sebastian drawled exaggeratedly. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to get through the night. Oh, he’s doing quite good,” Sebastian said proudly, turning back to Blaine before Karofsky had the chance to protest again.

Blaine was fuming by this point and had Prisoner 474 up against the wall as he stalked in front of him, wishing for once he was taller than his admittedly short 5 foot 8 inches, wanting to look intimidating. He couldn’t take it any longer and so he allowed his frustration with it all, his father, Dr. Cohen, Karofsky, Sebastian, and the other prisoners to flow through him, narrowing on the still blasé figure standing in front of him.

“What’s your deal, 474? All you ever do is sit there with that stupid fucking blank look on your face. You’re in a fucking prison, do you even realize that? You are a prisoner. You are OUR prisoner. You should be sticking up your fellow prisoners and you just don’t give a shit about anyone, do you?”

Blaine glared at Prisoner 474 who simply swallowed and continued to stare straight ahead, his posture perfectly erect. He remained so silent that Blaine briefly wondered if he’d even heard him. This only enraged Blaine further.

“Jesus! What is your fucking problem? Answer me!” Blaine shouted, barely noticing as tiny flecks of spittle flew from his mouth, landing on 474.

“Yes sir, Correctional Officer Anderson,” 474 responded robotically, still nothing showing on his face.

Blaine fought the urge to smack the wall as 474 responded. “This is exactly what I was talking about! Why are you so obedient? Why do you have to be such a passive bitch?”

“It’s in my nature to be obedient, sir.” Prisoner 474 replied automatically.

“Well, I fucking hate it. It makes you a horrible prisoner,” Blaine shouted breathlessly. He paused, panting slightly from a combination of anger and frustration. As he tried to catch his breath, he noticed Karofsky and Sebastian watching him. Karofsky looked confused while Sebastian was beaming with obvious pride. Blaine was torn between relief that his behavior for once was being approved by the guards, while at the same time, feeling slightly nauseous at the idea of Sebastian being “proud” of anything he was doing. Maybe he’d gone too far?

Blaine found his eyes settling on Prisoner 219 as they often did when he felt uncertain. He was still seated on the floor, rubbing his knee, as he watched the scene play out. Blaine was relieved to see that he didn’t look aghast, but rather slightly grateful? It was always hard to tell, but Blaine hoped that 219 could see that he was trying to protect him in some small way.

Blaine turned back to prisoner 474 who was leaning against the wall, his eyes dead, his posture casual. “Did I tell you to relax? To make yourself comfortable? I don’t think so,” Blaine shouted.

“Yeah, show some respect for Officer Anderson,” Karofsky called as walked to join Blaine, scowling down at Prisoner 474.

“Yes sir, Correctional Officer Karofsky,” Prisoner 474 said automatically, standing at attention, his posture almost comically straight and rigid. He stared straight ahead, his eyes blank as he awaited further orders.

Sebastian followed shortly behind Karofsky, coming to stand on Blaine’s right side, slinging a friendly arm over his shoulder. “Great job, love. Welcome to the dark side. I knew there was some anger deep down in there. Glad to see you finally taking control. And I totally agree, 474 is a bit of prick. It’s no fun to make someone your bitch when they just lie there and take it like a dead fish. I like prisoners with a little fight in them.” Sebastian leaned in, whispering the final words into Blaine’s ear. “Although your little prisoner 219 may have a bit too much fight in him, if you know what I mean. Don’t be so obvious, babe. Most guys like it when you play hard to get. And the whole savior complex is a bit played out, don’t you think? Just something to consider.”

Blaine roughly shrugged off Sebastian’s arm, the weight feeling like a noose the longer it was anchored around his neck and shoulders. He felt his skin prickle slightly with a combination of guilt and embarrassment. If he was totally honest, hearing Sebastian say “welcome to the dark side” quite a bit. For the past day, his major goal had been to maintain his dignity and humanity despite the increasingly harsh environment. He’d made it a priority to protect 219, to be sure that he was not hurt, but at what cost?

Karofsky cleared his throat, looking to Blaine. He was obviously waiting for Blaine to give the next round of orders to Prisoner 474. As the other prisoners, Karofsky, and Sebastian stared at him, waiting expectantly, Blaine felt suddenly ashamed and put on the spot. He couldn’t do this. He wasn’t this guy. Or he didn’t want to be that guy any more at the very least.

Blaine turned to Prisoner 474 who continued to stare ahead blankly, a slight smirk on his face. “Prisoner 474?” Blaine called suddenly.

“Yes sir, Correctional Officer Anderson,” 474 answered automatically.

“We’re going to try this one more time,” Blaine warned, still wanting and needing to understand why 474 was always tripping over himself in his haste to obey each order, even when it meant hurting his fellow prisoners. Where was his sense of loyalty? He truly couldn’t comprehend 474’s actions, but desperately wanted to, if only so that he could see the humanity in 474 once again.

“Why are you so damn obedient? Why do you follow our orders without thinking about your fellow prisoners?” Blaine started.

Next to him, Karofsky made a loud scoff, obviously disapproving of Blaine’s line of questioning. Karofsky would be perfectly happy with all of the prisoners turning on one another as it would make his job easier.

Blaine took a deep breath and rephrased his question, hoping to appease Karofsky while still getting the answer he was seeking. “I mean, why would you throw your fellow prisoner under the bus like that? No one likes a tattletale. And us guards, we have each other’s backs,” Blaine stated, gesturing towards Sebastian and Karofsky, relieved to see them both nodding in agreement. “Why don’t you have the other prisoners’ backs?”

Prisoner 474 continued to stare straight as he replied, his monotone reply still almost robotic-sounding and betraying almost no trace of emotion or personality.

“I am just a prisoner, Correctional Officer Anderson. You are my guards and so it my job to obey you. I want to be a good prisoner so I must be obedient.”

Across the room, Blaine watched the other prisoners respond to 474’s statement. Prisoners 137 and 138 exchanged baffled looks, shaking their heads simultaneously as if to say, “I don’t get him. What’s his deal?” Prisoner 219’s reaction was less muted. He looked obviously frustrated and a bit angry as he rolled his eyes. Blaine felt his own anger rising at the look reflected in Prisoner 219’s face. And before he had a chance to think, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, more fiercely than he’d anticipated.

“Bullshit! Don’t give me that “I’m just obedient by nature BS. You’re not in here for being upstanding citizens after all. I think you’re just a smug bastard. You’re patting yourself on the back for being a good prisoner but you don’t realize that everyone hates you. The prisoners hate you and so do the guards. You’re not in touch with reality. You don’t see what’s really going on here, what’s important,” Blaine shouted, breathing heavily.

“You’re totally right, love,” Sebastian responded, stepping forward and patting Blaine on the back. He pointed an accusatory finger at Prisoner 474. “Anderson is right. He has you pegged. You’re a self-righteous, pious asshole. I think you need to hear what everyone else thinks about you.”

“Prisoners, on your feet,” Sebastian continued. “Isn’t 474 a self-righteous, pious asshole?” he asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, the other prisoners replied as they’d been taught. “Yes sir, Correctional Officer Smythe,” they called in unison.

“Let’s make sure that he knows it then. Repeat after me – 474 is a self-righteous, pious asshole.”

There was a slightly longer pause this time during which Blaine could see each prisoner reacting to this newest command. Prisoner 138, in particular, looked aghast, recoiling slightly at the harsh words he was being asked to repeat. Prisoner 474 did not react, continuing to stare ahead steadfastly. But Blaine could see that his eyes had lost some of that glazed over look that had so infuriated him minutes earlier. There was a flash of something in his eyes, a great sadness masked only by an even more powerful desperation. Desperation for what? Blaine wasn’t sure, but if he’d been pressed to answer, he’d guess that it was desperation for survival.

“Ladies? I’m waiting…” Sebastian trilled.

“474 is a self-righteous, pious asshole,” the prisoner droned as one.

“That’s more like it. Keep going. Say it until I tell you to stop,” Sebastian commanded, his eyes flashing with delight as Prisoner 474 swayed slightly, finally giving some reaction.

Blaine felt his stomach drop as the prisoners continued to repeat the same words over and over.474 is a self-righteous, pious asshole. Blaine had wanted to shake Prisoner 474 up a bit, get him to react, to show some signs of life, mainly because he knew how badly 219 and the others needed an ally. But he hadn’t meant for his words to be used as a weapon against 474. Blaine watched with growing nausea as 474 bit the inside of his lip, clearly trying hard not to cry. Too far. I went too far. Who am I going to be by the end of this experiment?

An hour later, Blaine’s mind was still reeling from what he’d done. Releasing that anger had been a relief, but it hadn’t been worth the guilt that followed, particularly when he realized that he’d hurt Prisoner 474. Granted, 474 had hurt 219, and not just emotionally. Blaine had been forced to watch with growing concern as Prisoner 219 dragged through a another brutal count, dragged through an endless series of push-ups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks on a bruised and increasingly swollen knee. He didn’t know how 219 was getting through it. Blaine was dead on his feet, and he only had to watch. As his worry grew, Blaine found it easiest to focus on everyone but 219. At least with the others, their pain and fatigue didn’t leave as big as a sting. Because every time he saw 219 stumble or wince, Blaine could swear it caused him physical pain as well.

“You call those sit-ups?” Karofsky suddenly yelled at 137 who was grunting with exertion as he barely managed to lift his chin to his chest. “You’re going to do them all over again. Start the count over and do them right this time, or next time the punishment will be worse.”

After a while, even the guards seemed to grow tired with the endless shouting and exercises. Blaine was silently praying that they’d soon call an end to the count, if only out of boredom. Sebastian stared at the two prisoners under his command, obviously looking for a way to humiliate them even further. “Why don’t you both get down on the floor and hump each other?” he suggested darkly. 137 and 138 stared at each other, dumbfounded. Surely he wouldn’t…?

“You heard what he said!” Karofsky roared. “Get down and hump the floor or I’ll force you to do it and it won’t be gentle,” he warned.

“And you,” he said, pointing at 474. “Get down and hump the floor too.” 474 was the only prisoner to make a move, immediately dropping to the floor and beginning to grind against it, his eyes cold and unfeeling.

Prisoner 219 tried and failed to suppress a choked giggle at Prisoner 474’s sudden thrusting. There was obedient and then there was this. Prisoner 474 was practically the guard’s puppet at this point and it was ridiculous.

“What’s so funny lady? You think this is a joke?” Karofsky screamed.

“He’s humping the floor,” Prisoner 219 said wryly. “I’m supposed to take that extremely seriously?”

“Well, maybe it will be less funny when it’s you,” Karofsky retorted. “Get down on the floor and…” he stopped suddenly, shaking his head. “No screw that. Stay right there. Prisoner 474, on your feet,” Karofsky commanded.

Blaine watched, nervously. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Karofsky had planned.

“474, hump 219. Let’s see how much he likes it. Now! And I don’t want to see any snickering out of either of you.”

474 stepped forward and began to do as commanded, completely ignoring Prisoner 219 in the process. 219 kept his face neutral and tried not to react, but Blaine could see how uncomfortable he was by the stiff way he was holding himself. Blaine’s mind reeled as he tried to come up with a plausible way to get Karofsky off of Prisoner 219 and back to yelling at someone else.

Kurt glared at Karofsky as he was assaulted by Prisoner 474. He refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable this latest indignity was making him.

But Karofsky simply met Kurt’s gaze and returned the hardened look, considering him carefully for a moment before speaking. “I don’t like you, 219. You’ve been nothing but trouble from Day 1. And you know what, I don’t think you can handle men’s work. So while the rest of them do push-ups, you’re going to sing Amazing Grace cause your faggy little girl arms can’t handle it. All the rest of you, get down for push-ups while 219 serenades you.”

Kurt hadn’t been prepared for this. He had been expecting more push-ups, another verbal dressing down, anything but that. Little did Karofsky know that music was a source of strength for Kurt, a balm that soothed his wounds. He would have smiled if not for the coronary it was sure to cause Karofsky.

He’d been missing his clothing that he often wore like a protective shield of armor. His clothing allowed him to play a role, to choose the image that he wanted to project. But Karofsky had no idea that performing provided similar protections from Kurt. It would allow him to escape the horrors of the prison environment, if only for a few precious minutes and with any luck he might be able to transport and inspire his fellow prisoners as well.

Kurt rolled his shoulders forward, projecting an air of confidence. Karofsky’s not hurting me like he hurt Puck. Nobody is. I’m just going to stand here and sing my heart out, and if they don’t like it, they can all go fuck themselves. I go to NYADA. I’ve got this.

“Let’s move, lady! We haven’t got all day!” Karofsky yelled, bringing Kurt out of his reverie. He took a deep breath and began to sing, pouring all the emotion he had into the words of the song.

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me.

Kurt’s voice gathered strength as he sang, effortlessly swelling towards the next line.

I once was lost but now am I found, was blind but now I see.

The prison went completely silent, the only noises being the sweet melody of Kurt’s voice and the regular breathing of the prisoners as they continued to do push ups, exhausted but swept up in the beauty of the song.

Through many dangers, toils and snares, we have already come. T’was grace that brought us safe thus far, and grace will lead us home.

Kurt felt goose bumps erupt over his whole body as his voice soared and echoed off the cavernous basement. In some ways, Karofsky had chosen the perfect song for him to sing. Kurt wasn’t religious, but he had to admit that the words spoke to him and his current situation.

Across the room, Blaine was speechless, breathless even at what he was hearing. 219’s voice seemed to have cast a spell over all three guards, but no one more so than Blaine. 219’s voice was high and clear and unlike anyone else’s he’d ever heard. While the voice was good, amazing really, it was the emotion and passion that 219 was pouring into each word that had caused Blaine’s skin to prickle with goose bumps and his eyes to well with tears. Blaine reluctantly drew his eyes from 219 momentarily, curious to see how everyone else was reacting to the miracle in their midst.

Surprisingly, everyone seemed nearly as rapturous as Blaine, although they tried to hide their interest with varying amounts of success. The prisoners continued to do push ups, but all seemed invigorated by the musical accompaniment. Even Karofsky was looking at 219 with interest.

Blaine realized that he was staring a little too hard, because Sebastian was elbowing him in the ribs. “Come on Anderson, it’s never gonna happen. Stop drooling and do your damn job.” The words were harsher than usual and there was almost no trace of the flirtatious lilt that usually accompanied Sebastian’s words. Blaine looked up to Sebastian, detecting a flash of…was that jealousy? It seemed no matter how hard Sebastian tried to hide it, he was every bit as impressed by 219 as everyone else.

Blaine was struck silent once again by the beauty of 219’s voice as he repeated the simply lyrics of the first verse one final time, each note perfect and filled with emotion. Blaine snuck a quick look at 219’s face, taking in the way his whole face and body was seemingly lit from within as he performed. It was mesmerizing and had he encountered this person, this version of 219 under any other circumstance, Blaine had a feeling that it would have been love at first sight.

I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind but now I see.

And Blaine did see. For a moment, he’d been given a window into 219’s soul and what he saw was breathtakingly beautiful.

219 finished the song and looked to Karofsky expectantly, the radiant smile on his face suggesting that he thought he’d won. Meanwhile, Karofsky was trying to contain his conflicting rage and was it…admiration? He wasn’t sure, his emotions so jumbled up that it was nearly impossible to make sense of them. Karofsky had been so sure that making 219 sing would humiliate him and finally squash his rebellious spirit. Instead, 219 seemed more confident than ever, as if he was drawing strength from the song. And frustratingly, his voice was actually pretty good. And 219’s face when he sang…it was different. Not friendly exactly, but open. He looked like someone you could tell your problems to and that could cheer anyone up with a smile.

What are you thinking? Karofsky chided himself. You shouldn’t be admiring guys, especially faggy ones like that. Besides, it’s your job to make him suffer, and those other two are looking at him like they’re under his spell. Get it together, idiot.

“You sound like a girl” Karofsky managed. He knew it wasn’t the most creative of insults, but he had nothing else, no way to sort through his feelings towards 219, especially now with an audience. 219’ barely reacted, his face seeming to say that he wasn’t affected at all by Karofsky’s words. Karofsky knew he should be furious at 219’s knowing smirk, so why did he feel the slightest bit proud?

Blaine had had enough. He could see Karofsky getting worked up and was sure that whatever punishment he was coming up with next would probably harm 219. Despite all the ups and downs of the day, Blaine still intended to make good on his promise to 378, so he forced himself to assume the tough guard persona which felt completely at odds with his true self. “All right, you pieces of shit, get in your cells. Lights out.” He walked back to the guard room before Karofsky and Sebastian could object. Later there would be time to sort through his complicated feelings toward 219. But for now, 219 was safe and that was enough.

Minutes later, Kurt sat alone his cell, sifting through the events of the day and trying to decide what his next move would be. Today had been incredibly difficult but he felt like he’d stood up for himself, and refused to let the guards beat him. It felt really good. Singing seemed to have triggered something within Kurt. He was starting to re-evaluate his role. Maybe he was a fighter, like 378 had said after all. But how could he continue to fight? Kurt desperately wanted a way to show the guards that they didn’t own him. He was resolved that he find a way to show everyone involved with the study that Kurt Hummel wasn’t the victim anymore.

He allowed his eyes to slip shut, exhausted from the long day and even longer evening. As he drifted to sleep, the only thought in his head was this. I know my worth. You haven’t broken me yet, and you never will. Whatever you’ve got, tomorrow I’ll be ready for it, so bring it on.