Life was starting to seem to be what Kurt would describe as "normal". It had been a little more than a week since Kurt joined the glee club, and everyone there seemed to be friendly to him. Even the kids at school who were usually mean to him seemed to have backed off. He was able to walk through the halls with minimal shoving, and he got less stares. Kurt wondered why this was happening, but accepted the change graciously.

He and BDA were hard at work on the project; his friend even hinted that they were nearing completion:

I think a few more books will suffice; I've been talking to some people at school and making arrangements...this project is going to go far!

Kurt found himself thinking about this often, at school, at home-everywhere. What would happen when they finished the project? Would BDA still leave the Book out, the thing Kurt looked forward to every day? What if Kurt became busier with the glee club, and didn't have time to go to the library anymore?

Kurt nearly felt like bursting into tears at these thoughts, but somehow he knew deep down inside that somehow their friendship would persevere.
He was actually becoming alarmed at the amount of time he thought about BDA. It was like a song stuck in his head, a really good one at that. It seemed that it could only be subdued when he actually listened to the song, when he went to the library and wrote in the Book, but he still thought about it afterwards.

Still, Kurt was a lot happier than before. He felt himself smile a lot more often, he would laugh at even the smallest of things. He enjoyed going to glee, almost as much as when he went to the library. Even his grades, which were decent, were picking up a bit.

One particularly brisk day Kurt was at his locker after school, placing his books that he didn't need back into his locker and retrieving his coat. It was a half-day because all of the teachers had to do something (Kurt never figured out what "Curriculum Day" really meant), so the halls were completely empty. Kurt was looking forward to a long afternoon completely dedicated to the library, hoping to possibly get two books in - he was feelingThe Chronicles of Narnia, another series that left a huge impact on his childhood.

He took his time as he put on his coat, checking his hair in the mirror situated inside of his locker. Suddenly he felt his bag leave his side on the ground, and looked behind him.

There they were. The main boys who had religiously bullied Kurt since the beginning of the year. The one directly across from him, Karofsky, was holding the bag in his hands, an ominous glint in his eyes. His two cronies flanked him on either side, giving him dirty looks. Kurt gulped, knowing that the "honeymoon" he'd been on had ended.

"You thought that since we stopped bothering you for a week that everything would be fine, didn't you?" Karofsky spat, handing the bag to the boy on the left. "Did you?" He asked again with more urgency. Kurt closed his locker as he backed up against it. He nodded, his heart hammering against his chest.Oh my God, what is he going to do to me, oh no-

"You two, go throw the bag in the dumpster. If he doesn't do what I ask him, then he'll join it," Karofsky never broke eye contact with Kurt; Kurt glanced at the two boys who quickly left the hall. It was just him and Karofsky alone in the hall.

"Are they gone?" he asked, with a hint of worry in his voice. Confused, Kurt nodded for a second time. Karofsky grabbed his wrist painfully. "Say it! Speak! Are they gone?"

"Yes! Yes! Please let me go," Kurt nearly cried, which only caused his captor to grin even more.

"Poor little Hummel, theonlygay kid at school," he growled, grabbing the other wrist and pressing them against the lockers, his fingernails digging into Kurt's skin. Kurt felt his eyes widen.What is he doing?

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Hummel. You try to resist me, I do it anyway and you go to the dumpster. You don't resist, you don't go to the dumpster. Deal?" Kurt began to nod, but then remembered.

"Yes," he could barely even formulate the word. He closed his eyes, trying to pretend he was in the library to ignore the pain that was soon to come. He had no idea what was going to come, and didn't even want to know.

Nothing came after about a minute; Kurt opened his eyes. Karofsky had tears in his eyes.

"What-"

Suddenly a pair of lips cut him off, crashing down on his mouth hard. Kurt could not believe it. Someone was kissing him, his first kiss. His eyes widened and his mouth grew taut.

Karofsky is kissing me!

Kurt came to his senses: he needed to break it off. He'd rather get thrown in the dumpster than kiss someone who made his life absolute hell. He did the first thing that came to mind: he kneed Karofsky in a place that should not be kneed, causing him to double over in pain. Kurt evaded his grasp, which had loosened from the hit, and sprinted down the hall as fast as he could, but unfortunately Karofsky was more athletic than him, and quickly caught up after recovering from the blow. His attacker tripped him, and Kurt felt his legs fall out from under him, his body hitting the ground hard. He stayed down, paralysed. Karofsky then proceeded to kick his side, knocking the wind out of his victim. Kurt whimpered, hoping that the abuse would soon come to an end. He knew that it wouldn't.
The bully then grabbed his arms, bunching up the sleeves of his jacket and scratching his bare skin as he brought Kurt to his feet. Karfosky wordlessly began leading-dragging, rather-him through the halls, eventually making it to the back of the building. He threw Kurt against the door as if he weighed as much as a football; Kurt cried out at the impact.

"Open the door!" Karofsky demanded, and Kurt did as he was told. He couldn't think about anything else aside from the fate that was awaiting him. His brain seemed to be disconnected from his body as he stepped outside.

There it stood: the dumpster.

The two other boys were standing there on their cell phones; Kurt felt Karfosky come up to him and held his arms behind him in an uncomfortable position. Kurt squirmed as the two other boys began to approach, putting their phones in their pockets. A frigid gust of wind carried the stench from the dumpster; Kurt wrinkled his nose in disgust, his eyes tearing from both the cold and from Karfosky's harsh grip.

It felt like he was underwater: time had slowed down, and Kurt couldn't hear a thing. He couldn't even breathe. Kurt watched as the others grabbed his legs, lifting him in the air. They stepped in front of the dumpster. Kurt closed his eyes.

Kurt felt himself being heaved into the air, hands pushing hard against and then leaving his legs, his back, his butt (he knew exactly who that was). Kurt's right arm hit the sharp side of the dumpster, cutting through his coat and skin. Finally, he felt him hit the sludgy surface of the trash within, sinking in slightly. He opened his eyes, nearly throwing up at the sight.

Of course he fell on all of the food that had been thrown out from that day. He could see the ketchup stains on his shoes, the milk on his pants, on his coat-was that orange?-and penne stuck in his hair. There was so much more, but Kurt was so overwhelmed that he just laid there, tears streaming down his face.
"And if you think about telling anyone," Karfosky's voice pierced through the silence, "I will skin you. I will seriously skin you. Got that?"

"Y-yes," Kurt basically whispered, but Karfosky seemed to hear him. He cursed Kurt off, his voice beginning to drift away along with his companions' laughter.
Kurt couldn't bring himself to move for a few minutes. He could hardly even breathe. The filth around him made him want to gag, and his arm throbbed from the laceration carved in it. Trying to escape from the reality of the situation, Kurt stared up at the clear blue sky, taking a few calming breaths to collect himself. It helped a little bit, but Kurt knew that he had to do something soon.

Finally, Kurt slowly sat up, taking in his surroundings. It wasn't as revolting as before, considering that he'd gotten used to it sitting in it for a few minutes. Kurt swiveled his head, searching for his bag. He quickly found it sitting directly behind him: it was still closed, so thankfully nothing fell out. Nevertheless, it was still covered with garbage, and Kurt was sure that he wouldn't be able to use it anymore. He hoped that nothing inside of it was damaged. Kurt crawled over and grabbed it, his hands sticky from some sort of substance. He put it on, gently threading his injured arm through the strap.

Kurt crawled over to the side of the dumpster, grabbing onto the metal as he steadied himself. He stood up, his feet sinking in the garbage. This was too much for Kurt; he swiftly swung his legs over the side, still holding the side as he hung in midair above the ground, which sat a little more than a foot below him. He stayed like that for a few seconds, reveling in the fact that the worst was over. Kurt then let himself drop down.

"Ouch," he cried: his left ankle twisted slightly as he landed. It wasn't anything too serious, but a twisted ankle was a twisted ankle, and it hurt.

Then it hit Kurt like a train traveling at a hundred miles per hour:How am I going to get home?

Burt was still working, and Kurt knew that he wasn't able to do the four and a half miles to his house. He figured that walking to the library would be the best thing to do.

He took a few steps, limping slightly from the fading pain in his ankle. Some food labels that had been stuck to his coat fell off: Kurt still felt contaminated.
Kurt trudged on, hoping that no one would see him as he made his journey.

I wish I had a car, he thought over and over again

Nearly 20 minutes later, Kurt entered the library, stumbling slightly as his entire body burned from the long walk and abuse it had endured. He saw Mrs. Devon staring at him from behind the counter; he ignored her and walked to his room, praying that the Book would be there. It was his last consolation, the only thing that could make him feel any better from the events of the day.

He sighed with relief as he made it to the back of the room, dropping down into the chair in the back and staring at the closed Book in front of him. Kurt opened it, reading BDA's review and note. He felt a wetness rolling down his cheeks as he smiled, just feeling so grateful for BDA. He didn't know why, but in that moment Kurt just felt his heart burst with appreciation for the boy he'd never truly met, his pen-pal of three weeks. Despite all of the bad times, BDA could still make him forget everything.

Suddenly, the door opened. Kurt looked up and saw none other than Mrs. Devon rushing towards him. She had a look on her face that Kurt never saw, her visage contorted with an intense animosity. As she stood in front of him, however, and beheld the Book within his hands, she stopped, her expression morphing into one of complete surprise.

"You!" She exclaimed, looking up at Kurt. "You're the one who has been communicating with my grandson!"