Kurt was giddy when he left his house to meet Blaine at the shop. He had labored over his outfit the same way he did for his first day of school, only he wanted this ensemble to carry a very different message.

‘Hello. My name is Kurt Hummel, and I want you to want me.’

He bit his lip as he looked at his reflection and said those words out loud. Yes, he realized. That’s what he wanted.

In the end, his outfit choice was pretty simple. He wore his favorite black skinny jeans (the ones he secretly thought made his ass look fantastic), his favorite black button-down McQueen shirt (the impossible-to-find vintage one with the skull motif), and his signature Doc Martens. He was so excited about Blaine seeing him in this outfit, he only just remembered to throw on his peacoat on the way out the door, when the chill air hit him and he shivered down to his shoes. Cold night notwithstanding, he decided to leave his car at home and walk the distance, knowing that wherever they went, they would be going in Blaine's Mustang.

Leaving his car home would ensure that, not that he needed an excuse. Not anymore, and that made Kurt happy beyond belief.

The thought of riding in Blaine’s Mustang gave Kurt such a rush. He couldn’t wait to be surrounded by that sinful smell of those leather seats, the one that seemed to belong to Blaine as much as to his car. Or to get the thunderous boom of that V8 engine underneath his skin and inside his blood. But it was the prospect of what else they could end up doing in that gorgeous car that made Kurt hot beneath his wool coat.

Kurt arrived a little earlier than he intended. He had walked double-time without meaning to, too wound up to take his time and enjoy the stroll. He wanted to be there already, in Blaine’s car, with Blaine beside him. He texted Blaine to let him know that he had arrived, then sat on the edge of a large planter outside and waited. Kurt had his earbuds in his ears, listening to the soundtrack from Wicked (recorded during its Broadway premiere at the Gershwin Theater in 2003), when bright lights pulled up the asphalt road. Kurt shot to his feet like a bullet, expecting Blaine. Of course, Blaine. Who else but Blaine would be there this time of night? But when Kurt saw the car head on, the headlight signature was all wrong. Plus, the roar of the V8 that Kurt loved in Blaine's Mustang was more subdued in the approaching car. Kurt's skin prickled slightly, wary of this late night visitor. At worst he figured it could be Sebastian, stalking the shop, hoping to get Kurt alone. Kurt squinted his eyes against the light and caught sight of a familiar blood-red paint job. He sighed. Not his favorite person in the world, but at least it wasn’t Sebastian. Kurt could deal with single syllable Dave if it meant avoiding the roaming hands of Sebastian Smythe.

But Kurt prayed Blaine would show up soon. Dave still gave Kurt the creeps.

"Hey, Monster." Kurt waved nonchalantly, trying not to think too much of it. Dave didn't get out of his car right away. He stared down at his hands, gripping his steering wheel. Through the cracked car window, Kurt heard the steering wheel creak where Dave twisted it. The prickling on Kurt's skin came back again full force, chilling him beneath his coat. Dave’s mouth moved in silence, as if he was debating something with himself. Then he finally decided to get out of his car, and when Kurt could see him clearly, Kurt froze. Dave's eyes flickered dangerously with that slow burning flame that made Kurt's whole body go numb. "You-you scared me to death." Kurt tried to chuckle, keep the mood light, while in his brain he screamed at himself to run. He knew it would be useless, though. Kurt didn’t assume Dave was fast, but Dave's Charger would run him down in a heartbeat.

Dave advanced on Kurt slowly, and Kurt felt himself backing up, looking for a way out.

"W-was there something that you needed me to do for you?" Kurt babbled. Dave's eyebrows raised, as if he fought with himself to understand Kurt's reaction. "Did you need me to check your p-plugs...or something? ‘Cuz I was just heading home."

In no time, Dave was in front of him, looking down at him with a menacing frown, with Kurt's back pressed up against the wall.

Trapped. How was he always getting trapped?

"The other guys," Karofsky said slowly, chewing around every word. "Blaine and Sebastian. You let them...touch you."

Kurt swallowed thickly, heart racing, not liking where this was heading.

"Not Sebastian." Kurt shook his head, his mind whirling, praying that Blaine would show up any minute.

"Why not me?" Dave asked, his face scrunching up a little. "Why don't you like me?"

"Dave..." Kurt's voice shook, but he forced himself to stay calm and talk slowly. "I appreciate that you don't touch me the way Sebastian did. The things he did upset me."

Kurt felt like he was talking to a child - a giant, deadly child.

"What about Blaine?' Dave asked.

What about Blaine? It would be easy to say that Blaine was his boyfriend, to lie to this behemoth, staring him down like he was something to eat. But it wasn't true. Besides, it might upset Dave more. While Kurt thought, frantically trying to come up with some sort of escape, his mouth betrayed him.

"I like him."

Everything stopped. There was no sound in Kurt's ears but the steady thump-thump-thump of his own heart beating. The air suddenly wasn't as cold as it had been a moment ago. In fact, it burned. Everything around him - his skin, his eyes, the inside of his throat. Only then did it register to Kurt that Dave had grabbed him, one hand around his neck and another fisting into his hair, his entire body pinned by Dave's hulking frame up against the wall.

Kurt couldn't move. He was immobile and frightened for his life.

"You like him, but not me, is that it?" Dave growled, his foul breath on Kurt's skin. Kurt turned his head, trying to find clean, cool air to breathe, but it didn't matter, because all the air in his body was being pushed out of his lungs my Dave's massive weight.

"Answer me!" Dave screamed into Kurt's ear, and Kurt was sure his eardrum had come close to bursting.

"N-n-not in that way, D-dave," Kurt managed between quick, panicked breaths.

Dave released his grip on Kurt's neck a bit, shocked by Kurt's admission.

"I'm sorry." Kurt hoped to reach some part of Dave's brain that was sympathetic or compassionate. "I'm really sorry."

Dave was stunned to silence. Kurt looked into Dave's eyes, trying to decipher his thoughts, desperately pleading for Dave to let him go.

Where the hell was Blaine? Had he forgotten? Had he changed his mind?

For a moment, Kurt thought he might possibly break free. He moved as far back into the wall as he could manage, and then went for broke. He tried to push Dave aside in an effort to run away, but Dave was unexpectedly fast and grabbed him again, his grip even stronger this time. Dave lifted Kurt up to eye level, and slammed him against the brick.

"You don’t like me? I'll make you like me!" he bellowed. Dave lurched forward, and then his lips were on Kurt's - sloppy, wet, needy, deranged. Kurt screamed into Dave's mouth, hot tears pouring out of his eyes, his mind reeling in horror and disgust.

This shouldn't be happening! Kurt thought, struggling to escape. He tried to think logically, to calm his mind and push past the excruciating now to formulate a plan, but he kept returning to the same frightening thought. He didn't know what was going to happen. He didn’t know how far Dave might go, what he was capable of. When Dave stared at Kurt at the races, seethed at him, watched his every move, Kurt thought Dave hated him – hated him because he was gay. Even if Dave stared because he wanted Kurt, there was still something in his eyes, a hint of loathing, probably for himself, but he was taking it out on Kurt. Would Dave rape him? Right here in the alley behind his dad's shop? If Monster was capable of that kind of evil, how much farther would he go? Would Dave kill him to keep him quiet? Is this where they would find his body tomorrow?

Dead in an alley wasn't the way this was supposed to end - end because Kurt was sure that whatever Dave planned to do, he was most likely going to strangle Kurt to death in the process, intentionally or not. Kurt felt his breath leave him. He kicked and flailed, lashing out with his nails at anything his hands could reach. He raked an inch of skin on Dave’s face, split his lip, even impaled him in the eye, but Dave would not let up. Dave was about a hundred pounds heavier than Kurt, if not more, and he was using every ounce of that weight to crush Kurt.

A flurry of Kurt’s punches connected but had no effect. They seemed to rebound off of Dave like a hard rubber ball on cement. But suddenly, Dave stilled mid-assault and then crumbled, taking Kurt to the ground with him. Kurt froze, but it only took a second for him to realize that one of his flailing limbs must have zeroed in on something important. Dave lay wheezing on the floor with Kurt sprawled out beside him. Kurt sucked in a quick breath, fighting to get air into his deflated lungs.

Kurt's mind became a jumble of heated emotions - angry at Blaine for not showing up, angry at himself for not driving here and waiting in his car, angry at his dad for moving to Lima to begin with. They circulated and changed, bouncing between terror and fury, until all at once they turned into one cohesive thought, pared down into a single word - RUN!

Kurt pushed off the floor, the world listing and twirling the minute he got to his feet, and forced himself to run. His feet pounded the pavement as he propelled himself forward, straining his ears in search of the sound of pursuing footsteps.

He ran about seven blocks, but he didn’t hear anything - no footsteps pursuing him, no breathing down his neck - and he thought he was in the clear. His feet started to slow, his body shaking so hard he couldn’t make it do anything else. He felt cries and screams crowding his throat, not knowing which he wanted to let out first, but a thread of self-preservation silenced both when he heard tires turn in the gravel behind him. A sweep of headlights engulfed him, stopping Kurt dead. He saw his shadow stretch in front of him and knew he was done for. Dave had recovered, made it to his Charger, and had hunted Kurt down.

The car rolled to a stop behind him, and Kurt whimpered softly. He knew he should run, but his muscles locked up. He became paralyzed. He’d had his fair share of bullies, but he’d never been so scared in his life. No one had ever had it out for him like this before. Kurt heard the car door open, but not close, and he felt helpless to do anything but wait for the inevitable, for rough hands to grab him again and drag him bodily into the car. If Monster got Kurt in his car and drove him away from here, Kurt just knew that he’d never be seen again, and yet, that didn’t make his knees bend or his body work.

Kurt heard footsteps and he held his breath, bracing for pain.

"Kurt?" a startled voice, comforting and familiar, came from behind.

"Blaine!" Kurt cried. He turned and found Blaine standing there. Relief overwhelmed him and he fell into Blaine’s arms. Blaine caught Kurt and held him while he sobbed openly into his shoulder.

“Kurt? Honey?” Blaine asked, confused when he felt Kurt shudder. “Kurt? Baby? What’s wrong? Is it your dad?” Blaine tried to look into Kurt's face, but Kurt wouldn’t lift his eyes to look at him.

Blaine looked around, helpless, hoping to find some clue in the street, on the ground, in the air.

"Come on," Blaine said quietly into Kurt's ear. "Kurt? Come on. Let's go now."

Kurt wanted to go with him, but he couldn't will his feet to move. Fear and exhaustion overtook him, and he began to fall swiftly to the ground. Blaine hoisted Kurt up in his arms and lifted him into the passenger seat of his Mustang. As Blaine buckled him in, he took in Kurt's appearance for the first time and gasped. Beneath the dim interior light, Blaine could make out Kurt's torn coat, the dirt and leaves clinging to his skin and littering his hair, the angry scratches on his face, deep purpling underneath his eyes, and large, thick marks on his neck that looked frighteningly like fingers.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine breathed, his heart breaking at the savage bruises on Kurt's alabaster skin. “Who did this to you?”

Blaine didn’t need to see anything more to know that Kurt was in terrible danger. He shut the door, then slid across the hood of his car and jumped into the driver's seat. He revved the engine, threw the car into gear, and gunned it, speeding away into the night.