The chairs in the waiting room were brightly colored, but extremely uncomfortable. Blaine Anderson would've made a snarky comment about the green cushioned chairs paired with purple pillows any other day, but he could no longer bring himself to smile; his wit was suffering. He shifted in his seat and sighed before glancing down at his phone.

11:23, the same time it'd been last time he checked. Growing anxious, Blaine pocketed his phone and tried to focus on anything other than why he was there. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the large aquarium in the corner near a window. Opposite it was a bookshelf that dawned what looked like self-help books. Blaine fought the urge to roll his eyes at the cliché.

There was a large potted plant near the entrance. It was wilted slightly, like someone had forgotten to water it recently. Directly in front of him was a coffee table with magazines strewn across it. Blaine couldn't bring himself to read any of them.

He tried and failed to resist checking the time again. 11:24.

Great, he thought sarcastically, it's been a whole minute.

Blaine glanced around the room again, this time examining the people rather than the scenery. There was a lady behind a counter who looked like she was barely out of high school. She'd been nice enough last time he was here. Her name tag told him her name was Kaitlyn.

Near the window was a frail, elderly woman; she was fiddling with something on her left hand and staring at something Blaine was sure no one else could see. Her hair was short and curly, as though it used to be long and had recently been chopped off.

Across from him was a man who was too skinny to be considered healthy. His clothes hung from him loosely and the man trembled in his seat. His gaze was flickering around the room, never settling on anything for more than a moment at a time.

The door to the waiting room opened and a young woman stepped in. She looked dead on her feet, Blaine observed. As she approached Kaitlyn at the counter, her pregnant belly became obvious. She signed in and took a seat a few chairs away from Blaine without saying a word.

This place really was depressing. Blaine pulled his phone out again.

11:26. His appointment was at 11:30. Blaine sighed. He was about to put his phone back in his pocket when it buzzed.

I know you didn't want to go back, but I'm glad you did. I love you. See you at home. x –Mom

Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his phone tightly. His mother didn't know half of what was really going on, what had been going on for years. She wouldn't be so proud of him when she found out.

Another door swung open across the room, startling Blaine out of his thoughts. This door led to a hallway, rather than outside like the first. A teenage boy stepped out and Blaine had to do a double take.

He'd never seen anyone look so sad before. Despite his outfit being so well-put-together, this boy looked broken. He had dark circles under his startling blue eyes and his posture was somehow defensive and scared at the same time. He pulled his gray coat tighter around him and glanced around the room.

His eyes landed on Blaine just as another young woman stepped out from behind him. She leaned in close to murmur something Blaine couldn't hear. When she stepped back, she spoke again.

“Hang in there, Kurt,” the woman told him with a sympathetic pat on the arm. “We'll see you next week.”

With that, the woman disappeared back down the hall. The boy- Kurt¬- remained still for another handful of seconds. He was shaking slightly and Blaine wondered if he was about to break down. Before he could worry any more, Kurt uncrossed his arms and strode to the exit. He ran a hand through his auburn hair before yanking the door open and stepping out into the cold.

Blaine shifted in his seat. He was about to fish his phone back out to check the time again when the lady from before stepped back into the waiting room.

“Blaine Anderson?” She read from her clipboard, glancing around briefly. He stood and she smiled at him before leading him down the hallway.

“Last week you said that you blame yourself,” Dr. Liz King, Blaine's therapist, began. “Care to explain?”

Blaine stayed silent. Dr. King stared at him for another moment before she sighed.

“Blaine, you have to talk about this. He put you in danger and you blame yourself for it. That sends up all kinds of red flags. Why do you blame yourself for his actions?” Dr. King asked, leaning forward slightly.

“If I wasn't gay, he wouldn't have felt the need to correct me,” Blaine practically spat.

“You believe that your father was abusing you because of your sexuality.” It wasn't a question.

Blaine nodded.

“How does your mother feel about you being gay? From our last session, I gathered that she was much more accepting than he was,” Dr. King spoke hesitantly.

“She just wants me to be happy. My mom didn't know what my father was doing,” he explained. “If she did, it would've killed her. She loved my dad. When she found us that time… It broke her heart. That's what upsets me most, I think. It hurt her, I never wanted that. My mom is my rock.”

Dr. King nodded and scribbled something in a journal but stayed silent. Blaine didn't know what else to say, so he waited for her to prompt him. When she finished what she was writing, she set her pen down and rested her chin on her hands.

“How long had it been going on?”

Blaine swore internally. This was the question he'd been dreading; he didn't want to admit that his father had been abusing him for years now. It made him feel weak, like he wasn't able to put a stop to it. In reality, though, he just felt like he'd deserved the bruises.

Part of him also wanted someone to notice, but they never did. Maybe he should just tell Dr. King. She cared, his mom cared…

“Since a few weeks after I came out,” Blaine found himself confessing. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, his eyes widened.

“And you were fourteen when you came out, correct?” Dr. King asked, scribbling furiously into her notebook again. Blaine nodded, but she continued before he could answer properly. “How old are you now, Blaine?”

“I- I'm seventeen,” he choked out. Dr. King made a noise of disapproval.

“Three years,” she muttered darkly. “You dealt with that for three years.”

Blaine couldn't find his voice. Dr. King's pen continued racing across the page and he wondered if he should've just kept his mouth shut. He stared at the floor beneath him and bit his lip. If his mom was broken hearted after finding out his father had hit him just once, what would this do to her?

“Blaine, look at me,” Dr. King's voice startled him out of his thoughts. “You've got to talk to someone about this, whether it's your mom or a friend- you need to talk to someone. It's not enough to just tell me. You have to heal, too.”

“But- my mom- this is going to crush her,” Blaine groaned, dropping his head into his hands. 

“I think you'll find that your mother will be more concerned for your well-being than anything else,” Dr. King told him with a sad smile.

“How sad is it that I'm worried about her well-being?” Blaine muttered without looking up.

“It's not sad at all, Blaine,” Dr. King replied softly. There was silence for a full several minutes before either of them spoke again. “Why didn't you tell anyone? Even in the beginning, you must've at least considered it. What kept you from reporting it?”

“I-” Blaine faltered, “I guess I just… thought he was right.”

“About what?”

“That being gay was wrong and that I needed fixing,” Blaine's voice was surprisingly strong. “I thought I deserved what I was getting, whether it was from him or that group of bullies at my old school- I deserved it.”

“Blaine-”

“Every time he called me a fag, called me worthless, I believed him. I still believe him. It got to the point where I heard his voice in my head. Anytime I did something wrong, I'd hear him-”

“Blaine-”

“-reprimanding me. He was almost worse in my head, so bad that I looked forward to the actual beatings and insults instead of the ones my own mind came up with.”

“Blaine,” Dr. King's tone snapped him out of his rambling. He looked up at her, his eyes glazed over. “You are not worthless. Blaine, look at me- you aren't. Okay? Stop beating yourself up, you're safe now. Your dad is gone and he won't be coming back.”

“I know,” Blaine whispered. “I know, I know. But old habits die hard. I know he's gone, but he's still in my head.”

“I'm going to give you an assignment, alright?” Dr. King spoke after another moment of silence. Blaine nodded. “Start a journal. Every day, I want you to write down at least one reason you're glad you're alive. You can't write the same thing twice. You don't have to show anyone the journal, not even me, but I think it'll be good for you. Anytime you're feeling low, you can just read the entries. Okay?”

“Okay,” he repeated.

“Good. I'm sorry to end things so abruptly, but we're out of time. I'll see you next week, Blaine.  Don't forget to talk to your mom, I think it'll help you a lot more than you think,” Dr. King told him. She quickly scribbled another note in her journal before standing to see him out.

The lady from before met him at the door to escort him back to the waiting room. She shot him a kind smile before gesturing for him to lead the way. When they reached the end of the hall, she stepped forward and opened the door for him. She followed him out for a few steps.

“Hang in there, Blaine,” she patted him on the arm as she had for the boy before him. “We'll see you next week.”

With that, she was gone and Blaine was left to fend for himself. After a moment's hesitation, he moved to the exit and walked out into the cold. He didn't realize he was calling anyone until his phone was pressed to his ear.

“Blaine?” His mother asked when she answered. “Are you alright? What happened? Do I need to come get you?”

“No, mom, I'm fine,” Blaine told her. “But, um, we need to talk when I get home. There's… There's more that you don't know.”

Silence.

“Mom?” Blaine asked as his heart dropped to his toes. “I'm sorry, I should've told you everything, but I couldn't-”

“Blaine,” her voice cracked, “come home now. I need you to be home with me.”

A lump formed in his throat and he nodded before remembering that she couldn't see him. He rubbed at his eyes and started walking toward his car again. He hadn't noticed that he'd stopped.

“I'm on my way,” Blaine choked out. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, Blaine.”

Without another word, he hung up and unlocked his car. As soon as the door was open, he flung his phone into the passenger seat and locked himself in. Blaine started the vehicle, but didn't switch gears yet. Instead of pulling out of the parking lot and speeding home, he crumpled forward against the steering wheel, tears streaming down his face.