It was a Monday afternoon, and Blaine was washing his hands in the bathroom at Dalton Academy. He was humming along to a song from Warblers practice the day before. When the dark haired boy heard the shots coming from the hallways followed by screams, it took his brain a while to register that there were shooter in the school. He instinctually dropped to the stone cold floor, heart racing and mind blurred. Thoughts raced through his head. There was no lock on the dark oak door of the bathroom, he knew he had to get somewhere safer.

He inched his way on his palms and knees, trying to be silent. The shooters were walking away down the hall. They were two boys that Blaine didn't recognize. Their walk was haughty and their shotguns swung behind their backs jumping with each step they made. Fear oozed from them just as their ill-displaced arrogance. Blaine stopped breathing and moving, knowing they were the cause of the screams. He wondered if they had ruined lives yet, knowing the obvious fact that it was their goal.

They trailed on almost disintegrating into the opposite end of the school. Blaine quickly crawled to the nearest classroom and tried the doorknob. As it turned, he could hear heavy breathing and the spread of fear within. He knew if he whispered for them to open, not only would the shooters hear him but the class probably wouldn't risk it. He felt completely exposed in the hallway. Sweat dripped off his forehead, landing on his olive-skin hands as he kept crawling down the endless hall. He tried knob after knob hoping someone had been stupid and forgot to lock the door. Each time, praying and praying under his breathe that the savages for boys wouldn't think to come back.

The boy heard a blood-curling scream and four terrifying more shots and his breathing quickened as panic overtook him. He came to another classroom. Oddly though, the door was open. He stumbled in without looking inside and shut the door as fast and quietly as he could. His hands pressing into the soft wood as his head dropped, eyes studying the carpet. he watched tears fall from his eyes.

Whimpers came from behind Blaine and he shot his head around in a rush of alarm. A figure was sprawled across the floor, crimson red blood trailing from his body leading to a thick shiny red pool. It was too dark to make out the face.

"Bl… Bla…Blaine?" the figured cried, "hel..help"

It was Kurt.