Mentally speaking, Eleanor was the strongest person in Kurt's body, and she knew it. Most of the time, she was shoved into what was for all intents and purposes a dungeon – small, cramped, and dark. She hated it, and she hated Kurt for putting her there. As far as she was concerned, he deserved a little wrist cutting now and again. He was keeping her from everything. She'd had to go through male puberty when she was supposed to be getting her period and dreaming about marrying Justin Bieber or some crap like it. Instead, she was stuck in the body of a practically grown up man, and it felt disgusting.

She supposed that, even if Kurt gave up and let her be the dominant personality, she still wouldn't get to live normally. She could've gotten a sex change easily enough, but her mind was just… stuck. She'd never age past eleven even if the body grew old. She hated Kurt even more for insisting she didn't have a right to be there.

It fucking sucked.

As Carole stood up to finish the dishes, Eleanor muscled Kurt out of the way and took hold of the body. She stood and strode out of the room without so much as a word to Kurt's stepmother, heading upstairs to Kurt's room.

What are you doing? she heard Kurt ask. It was extremely unusual for them to be awake at the same time, and it was more than a little annoying to have Kurt yapping at her from the back of her head, but he couldn't do anything while she was in control so for the most part, she ignored him.

"I'm changing," she replied. "I fucking hate how you dress."

Fine. You can grab something out of Robbie's drawer.

Eleanor slammed the bedroom door behind her. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Why don't you have any girl clothes?"

Gee, I don't know, maybe because I'm a GUY?

Eleanor sighed, digging through Kurt's bureau and grimacing at how big and thick Kurt's hands were. "Well, you have drawers for everyone except me. Seem fair to you?"

I have to share my body with a PSYCHOTIC SIXTH GRADER. Does that seem fair to YOU, Lisa Frank?

That did it. Eleanor grabbed a framed photograph off the dresser of Kurt and Blaine and smashed it against the wall, pieces of glass raining down onto the carpet. "Whoops," she said.

You're a bitch.

"So you've said." She knelt down and pulled the slightly crinkled photo out of the broken frame, staring at it thoughtfully for a few moments. It had been taken on Valentine's Day of last year, before Blaine and Kurt had raised the level of their relationship, and they were making faces at the camera along with a couple of other Warbler members, though the two of them were front and center. "Your boyfriend hightailed it, huh?" Eleanor said with a slight grin.

She could feel rage from Kurt seeping through the body. He's not gone.

"Yet."

Yet.

Eleanor smiled. "Well, you know what I think?"

I really don't give a crap.

"I think we should help him move on A.S.A.P." In one swift movement, she tore the photograph in two, then tore it again, and again, and again.

I HATE YOU.

"Yeah," Eleanor sighed, letting the fragments of their faces fall back to the floor. "But what can you really do about it? I'm only protecting you from heartache." She chuckled, ignoring Kurt's yelling and moving over to the vanity table.

Eleanor had decided a long time ago that she hated Kurt's fashion choices, but most of all, she hated his hair. She wanted longhair. She wanted hair that could be pulled into pigtails or piled into a bun or curled into layers.

Don't you dare do anything to my hair. Truman already messes it up enough.

Eleanor grinned at Kurt's reflection in the mirror. If she couldn't have the hair she wanted, then neither would he. She stood up and went to the bathroom down the hall, pulling the scissors Carole used to cut Finn's hair out of the medicine cabinet. Paying no attention to Kurt's indignant protests, Eleanor seized a fistful of his hair and sliced through it, letting the severed clump fall onto the counter by the sink.

STOP IT! screamed Kurt.

Eleanor smiled and grabbed another chunk of hair.

Carole sat with a fresh mug of tea in the living room, leaning back in her favorite armchair and focusing on her well-worn sudoku book. Kurt had gone upstairs a little while ago, and she hadn't heard anything unusual so she figured that he was fine, whether or not he'd transitioned.

Her cell phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking her concentration. She answered it without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Hi, Ms. Hudson… I-I'm really sorry, I just didn't know who else to call…" The words tumbled down the line almost before Carole could recognize the voice.

She set her puzzle book on the arm of her chair. "Blaine, what's wrong?"

"I don't know, I guess… I guess I'm kind of having a nervous breakdown?" His voice wavered.

Carole sighed. "Okay, where are you?"

"Um… Schoonover Park," he said."On the east side of the lake."

There was a thump from upstairs, and the hairs on Carole's arms prickled. "Blaine, I'd love to come get you but I can't leave Kurt by himself right now."

"O-okay," he said. "Bye."

"Wait," she stopped him. "Look, I have to check on Kurt for a second, but I'll call you back in a few minutes, okay? Can you sit tight?" She waited for Blaine to accept before hanging up and quickly climbing the stairs.

She had just reached the top when Kurt yelled her name from the bathroom. "Kurt? What's—" She faltered in the doorway, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open. "Oh, God…"

Kurt was standing in front of the mirror, clumps of his hair scattered over the sink and floor. There was a huge splotch of bright red blood staining his neck and shoulder, and he was holding a towel to the side of his head. Carole rushed over to him, pulling the towel back to see the cut, which was fairly deep and directly across the top half of his ear.

"God, what happened?"

"Eleanor decided she wanted a haircut," Kurt spat, though Carole knew that the rage lacing his words wasn't directed at her. "I don't know if the ear was an accident or not."

Carole sighed, running the towel under water before pressing it to the injury again. She ran her other hand through Kurt's remaining hair, pulling out any stray clumps that hadn't fallen. Eleanor hadn't gotten most of his hair, but it was enough to leave several almost-bald spots and a very noticeable unevenness – he looked vaguely like a dog with mange. "I think we're gonna have to cut the rest of it off too, honey."

Kurt exhaled, his jaw muscle twitching. "I know."

She squeezed his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll keep it as long as possible." She let Kurt hold the towel again and wet a washcloth to rinse the drying blood off of his neck.

"Would you have dated my dad?" Kurt blurted out. "I mean, if you'd known about me?"

Carole hesitated, thrown off-balance by the abrupt question.

Kurt hung his head, her short pause not short enough. He quickly wiped his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to hide the tears he hadn't been expecting.

"No, no, Kurt," Carole said quickly, grabbing his shoulders and turning him to face her so he would look her in the eye. "Kurt, I was so scared and – and shocked when I found out about your alters, but… I was scared for you. I mean, maybe you and your father should have told Finn and I sooner, but it wouldn't have changed a thing. You are my family, and not only that, you're family that I chose. And no matter what the circumstances, I'd choose you all over again."

Rather than simply cry like Carole expected, Kurt collapsed onto her shoulder, his body shaking. For a moment, she thought that maybe he'd transitioned to Tyler, but she quickly realized it was still Kurt. She reached up and held him tightly, supporting most of his weight and rubbing circles on his back as he sobbed into her shoulder.

"Kurt, you're my son," Carole said softly, brushing a hand over the back of his head. "For better or worse."

There was no response. Eventually, Kurt's sobs faded off into silent crying – he was too exhausted to do anything else. He simply stood there, leaning against her and trying to breathe.

"Come on, honey," Carole broke the quiet several minutes later, giving Kurt a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Why don't you sleep for a little bit? We can deal with your hair later."

Kurt nodded wordlessly and allowed Carole to guide him back to his bedroom.

She stayed with him until he fell asleep (which wasn't long), then went back downstairs, resolving to clean up the bathroom as soon as she'd called Blaine back. She sank back into her armchair and hit the Redial button on her ancient cell phone.

Blaine picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Hi, Blaine, I'm sorry that took so long," she said. "Are you feeling any better?"

There was a long pause. "I'm not really sure what I'm feeling right now…"

"I know. Listen, I know it's kind of hard to have this conversation over the phone, but I can't leave Kurt alone. Do you want to come by the house?"

"I, uh… I don't know…" Blaine stammered.

"It's okay," Carole said quickly, saving him from having to answer. "We can talk on the phone if you want."

"No, it's fine," Blaine replied hastily, a touch of panic seeping into his voice. "You know what, I'm okay. I'll— Thanks, I guess."

He hung up before she could say anything else.