Three letters.

R E D

That was it. Just three letters, and Kurt had no idea what they meant. They glared up at him from the pages of his journal as he sat half-curled against the arm of the couch in the common room. He didn't recognize the handwriting, but if he looked at it carefully he supposed it could've been Eleanor or Zack. They were the only others who had contributed to the journal, after all, so they were the most likely candidates.

Kurt's fingers twitched as he fought a sudden urge to rip those three letters straight out of the notebook. He hated not knowing who was doing what and why – who'd written in his journal, who'd been throwing up his medication, and whoever the hell the new alter was, he hated having no clue what it looked like.

"Hey, Kurt," Charlie called, grabbing Kurt's attention from the nurse's station. "You've got an appointment with Dr. McManus in a couple minutes."

Kurt nodded, standing up from the couch and ducking into his room for a moment to toss his journal onto the bed before joining Charlie at the door.

"How was your weekend?" Charlie asked as he walked Kurt down the hall outside the ward.

"It was better than being stuck in here," Kurt replied dryly.

Charlie laughed. "I hear you." He opened the door to Dr. McManus' office and allowed Kurt to pass by. "See you later, man."

Dr. McManus was currently struggling to open the window behind his desk, and he glanced over his shoulder momentarily to greet Kurt with, "This hospital is insane when it comes to the thermostat."

Kurt pushed his sleeves up his arms, purposefully not glancing down at the scars now exposed on his forearms. "I noticed."

The window finally gave and cracked open, a cool May breeze blowing into the room. "Ah, better," McManus breathed. "I think the administrators are paranoid about letting the patients get too cold." He flapped a hand at the couch as he pulled his notepad out of his desk drawer. "Go ahead, sit down."

Kurt sat, folding one leg underneath himself.

"So, how was your weekend?" McManus started, taking his usual chair and setting his notepad on his knee.

"You mean besides the new alter?" Kurt remarked.

McManus smiled lightly. "Yes, besides that."

"You know, it was all right," Kurt said thoughtfully, looking at the tree outside the office window. "It was good."

McManus' head tilted to the side, almost in surprise. "What made it good?"

"I… I don't know." Kurt crossed his arms, watching the leaves in the tree swish in little waves from the breeze. "I mean, there was a lot of bad stuff that happened, but… I guess I just didn't feel trapped."

McManus' eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's an improvement."

"Yeah, it felt weird."

"How are you feeling about the new alter?"

Kurt tugged on a loose thread in the cuff of his sweatpants. "Terrified."

McManus nodded. "Well, you'd be an idiot if you weren't," he said simply. "Have you been writing in your journal?"

"Yeah, some."

"Have the alters been contributing?"

"A little," Kurt answered, RED flashing across the back of his mind once again. "Zack's just been drawing the Chinese stuff again, and Eleanor hasn't written anything helpful."

"Anything else?"

Kurt chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment. "Yeah, actually," he said. "One of the alters wrote something kind of weird… Just the word 'red', but really big. Across two pages."

McManus frowned. "Interesting," he said. "No idea what it means?"

"No, not at all."

"Any clue who wrote it?"

"No."

"Hm." McManus tapped a finger against his chin, then set his notepad aside. "Kurt, are you willing to allow me to speak to the alters? Today, I mean."

Kurt swallowed. "Y-yeah, I guess."

"Considering that you have a new alter we know next to nothing about, it would be unwise to wait."

A spike of static energy shot up through Kurt's spine, making him fight off a shiver. "What exactly would you be looking for?"

"Mainly just figuring out what the new alter's deal is," McManus explained, propping his elbows on his knees. "It'll be easier for me to help you if I know what he looks like. And, I can also try to find out who was rejecting your meds."

"Do we need to go to solitary?" Kurt asked, his voice hoarser and softer than he'd intended. He coughed.

"Yes, we do."

"Okay." Kurt swallowed, his mouth dry. "Can Charlie be there?"

"Why Charlie?"

"I'd prefer him rather than the orderlies."

"I'll call him. You all right?"

Kurt shook his head. "I'm fine, I just… hate that room."

McManus nodded. "You and me both, Kurt."

Charlie stood off to the side of the solitary room, staying close to the wall next to Leonard, one of the staff members from ward 3F. Charlie had assisted Dr. McManus before and he'd helped restrain plenty of patients, but never anyone with Kurt's particular illness, and if Charlie was honest with himself he was more than a little nervous about seeing it close up.

It really wasn't Kurt's other personalities that Charlie was afraid of – he'd seen Kurt's alters plenty of times. It was the transition. He'd never actually seen Kurt's face change from one personality to another, and just the idea of witnessing it was intimidating.

Now, Dr. McManus was crouched on the floor in front of Kurt with a handheld tape recorder in his hand, speaking gently as Kurt sat with his back against the wall. "When did the new alter come out? Do you remember it?"

Kurt's face was contorted in thought, his eyes not really looking at anything in particular and his body tensed. "My… my dad and I were fighting," he said, his voice wavering as if he wasn't sure of the memory. "I remember sc-screaming at him, and I… I remember wanting to hit him."

"And after that?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing."

Charlie supposed it was flattering, if Kurt trusted him enough to ask specifically for him. He couldn't deny, though, that he'd rather be guiding the yoga session currently taking place in the 3F common room.

Kurt, on the other hand, looked so nauseous that Charlie wondered if he should have brought a bucket.

"Did you hit your father?" McManus asked, his voice calm.

Kurt swallowed, his fingernails picking at one another, emitting tiny clicks almost like percussion. "I-I don't know. Maybe."

"Why were you angry? Was your dad wrong in being mad at you?"

"I was protecting my friends," Kurt said lowly, his fingers curling slightly. "I did the right thing."

"So he was wrong?"

A muscle twitched in Kurt's jaw. "He had no right to be mad at me. I did the right thing," he repeated.

Dr. McManus laced his hands together before changing the subject. "Kurt, you told me that what you remembered about Franklin was that he had rough hands," he said. "Right?"

Kurt shuddered almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

"I want you to concentrate on that memory, okay? Try to think of anything else you can remember."

Charlie felt the hairs at the back of his neck prickle as the pressure in the room began to change. He understood what Dr. McManus was doing; elevating Kurt's stress levels before bringing up the abuse, then driving a figurative hammer into an already widened crack to trigger a switch between personalities. Charlie wasn't sure that this method was entirely humane, but Kurt had agreed to it, and Charlie certainly wasn't coming up with any better ideas.

Kurt shuddered again, his eyes squeezing shut. "He… He was w-wearing a watch…" Kurt stammered, his voice shaking. "His hand was r-right by my head and – and – and it was nine-fourteen…" He trailed off, his breath hitching in his chest.

Charlie gulped, leaning back against the wall. Working in a mental hospital, one heard horrific stories of abuse every day. It didn't matter the reason for the damage. It never got easier listening to the patients talk.

"I'm listening," said McManus.

Kurt's eyes were still closed, his head hanging and his fists curled into the knees of his sweatpants. His toes were pulled tight, digging into the padding under his feet. He was quiet for a second, then drew a sharp hiss of breath, his shoulders spasming slightly.

"Kurt?" McManus prompted.

"It's nine-fourteen," Kurt echoed in a whisper. "He's—"

Charlie tensed as the set of Kurt's shoulders relaxed. This was it.

Kurt's eyes opened only a moment later, narrowing at his doctor with his mouth pulling down into a half-grimace. Charlie felt almost dizzy, realizing he'd just watched someone disappear.

"Who am I speaking with?" McManus asked, impossibly calm.

"You seriously don't recognize me?" Kurt snapped, his voice dry and rough. "We've only met a hundred times or so."

"Ah. Hello, Robbie."

"What do you want?"

"I was hoping you could tell me something about this new alter," McManus replied evenly.

Kurt rolled his eyes, his head falling back against the wall. "What new alter?" he deadpanned.

"I believe you know who I'm talking about."

"Nice try. I don't."

McManus pressed his mouth into a line for a second before speaking again. "Robbie, it would really be easier on everyone if you could just trust me for a few minutes."

Charlie flinched as Kurt's head snapped up, his eyes almost burning holes into Dr. McManus' face.

"Trust you?" he repeated. "Why the fuck would I trust you?"

McManus cocked his head to the side, remaining impassive. "Is there a reason you shouldn't?"

"You know exactly why," Kurt spat.

"Robbie, I really don't."

A harsh smile tugged slightly at the corners of Kurt's mouth. "Well, I don't know who the new guy is, so fuck off."

Charlie blinked. He'd seen Robbie plenty of times throughout the duration of Kurt's stay in the hospital, but he didn't think he'd ever seen Robbie angry. Annoyed, sure, and incredibly over-protective of his personal space, yes. But never angry.

"Is it because I'm trying to help Kurt get better and you don't want to leave?"

"Fuck you. You think I give a shit if I'm here or not?"

"You want to die?"

"I never said that."

"Then why don't you trust me?" McManus pressed. "Or at least have faith in the fact that I'm trying to help you and Kurt?"

Kurt didn't say anything, swallowing and scowling at the floor.

"Robbie, please talk to me."

"You don't have a right to ask me to do anything, asshole!" Kurt yelled, making Charlie frown in concern. Robbie had never yelled at anyone before, not that Charlie had seen.

"Why not?"

"YOU DRUGGED US."

Charlie's eyes widened. Kurt was breathing heavier than he'd been before, his fists clenched by his sides as he gritted his teeth.

McManus was silent for a few long seconds, waiting for Kurt's breathing to even out. "Robbie, those medications are a way to keep Kurt's mind grounded. They are not harmful."

A hoarse, thin laugh squeezed from Kurt's throat.

"Rejecting them is only going to make things worse for Kurt, Robbie."

Kurt's upper lip curled as he gave McManus a cold and strangely withdrawn glare. "Don't tell me what's going to make things worse," he said lowly. "You keep your fucking hands off us."

McManus actually looked startled for a brief moment before regaining his composure. "You really think I'd do something like Franklin did to you?"

"Franklin didn't do shit to me," Kurt rolled his eyes again. "I just keep Kurt from getting hurt again. That's it. So fuck off and let me do my job!"

"We need to talk about this, Robbie."

"No, we don't!" Kurt snarled, his muscles tightening.

Charlie tensed, readying himself just in case McManus needed him to restrain Kurt. But he stayed where he was as Kurt stood up, his shoulders hunched forward and his fingers tugging through his hair. He circled around Dr. McManus, edging toward the opposite wall of the room, the air around him almost buzzing with static.

McManus stood up too in order to be level with Kurt. "Robbie, it's all right if you're afraid. These things take—"

Kurt spun around. "You think I'm afraid?" he scoffed, almost incredulous. "I'm not afraid of anything. I can handle myself, and I'll do whatever it takes."

"Whatever it takes to do what?"

"Fuck off," Kurt growled.

"Tell me who the new alter is."

"No. Stay the fuck away from me."

"I won't do anything you don't want me to."

"I want you to FUCK OFF!" Kurt shouted, his head jerking forward. The rise in volume was so abrupt that both Charlie and Leonard jumped. Dr. McManus immediately backed up a step. "I want you to stop putting shit into our body! I want you to stop looking at us like you're picking us apart! I want you to GET OUT OF OUR HEAD!"

Kurt stood there for a moment catching his breath, and Dr. McManus didn't say a word. Charlie didn't think he'd ever seen the doctor so at a loss.

The surprise didn't last for long, though, as Kurt swayed on his feet, his shoulders slumping momentarily. He blinked, his head shaking slightly.

"Kurt?" McManus ventured.

"No," Kurt snapped. Charlie recognized the voice, though he'd only heard it a few times. "What's going on?"

"Eleanor, I need you to answer me honestly," McManus said, almost pleadingly.

Kurt crossed his arms, his expression hard and his eyes challenging.

"Do you know who the new alter is?"

The defensive, vaguely threatening glare faded from Kurt's face, and for a minute Charlie thought he looked almost terrified.

"Eleanor?" McManus prompted.

"I don't know who he is," Kurt said, his voice flat.

"Are you telling the truth?"

"What do you care?"

Charlie had no idea why, but Kurt sounded more sad than anything else.

"I'm trying to help you."

Kurt's chin lifted, suspiciously studying his doctor. His arms remained crossed, like he was trying to pull into himself. "We don't need your help," he said, his voice cracking softly.

Dr. McManus sighed. "I know you feel helpless, Eleanor. I know you feel trapped," he said. "But you have a chance here to make things better, for all of you. All you need to do is be honest."

Kurt's face contorted, his fingers digging into his sleeves. His eyes were threatening to spill over.

"Can you do that?"

"He came from the woods," Kurt whispered.

Dr. McManus frowned. "What does that mean?"

Kurt shook his head, his hands covering his face as his shoulders fell back against the wall. His chest shuddered. Charlie thought he looked something like a cornered stray.

"Eleanor, what's preventing you from talking to me about this?"

Kurt sucked in a shaking breath through his teeth, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. His spine curled toward the floor.

Dr. McManus stepped forward again, reaching out to touch Kurt's shoulder. "I don't want you to feel like you're unsafe here," he said gently.

Charlie flinched as Kurt abruptly lashed out, his fists landing a panicked blow on Dr. McManus' chest and knocking the handheld recorder across the room. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed, his voice jumping high to Zack's too-familiar pitch.

Dr. McManus quickly moved out of Kurt's range, nodding pointedly to Charlie and Leonard. Charlie swallowed, but deftly avoided Kurt's fists and seized his right arm from behind. Leonard did the same on Kurt's left, and with a firm push they brought Kurt down to his knees.

Charlie could feel Kurt's pulse beneath his skin, beating as fast as a terrified rabbit's.

Kurt was sobbing now, his eyes squeezed shut as he pulled against Charlie and Leonard's hold. Dr. McManus knelt in front of him, close but not close enough to frighten him further.

"Zack," he said. "Zack, shh. It's okay. Franklin's not here."

The mention of the name made Kurt jerk back, curling inwards. Charlie had to grab Kurt's wrist to keep it away from his teeth.

"Can you open your eyes for me, Zack?" McManus requested. "It's okay. Breathe."

It took several seconds before Kurt was able to swallow, his chest heaving, and do as McManus said, blinking rapidly. His eyes were horribly bloodshot, the blue irises a disturbing contrast. The lashes were stuck together in clumps.

"What are you seeing, Zack?"

His eyes immediately shut again, his spine jolting. "R-red," he whimpered.

Dr. McManus' frown deepened, and he turned to Leonard. "Lenny, I need you to go to Kurt's room and get his journal. I don't know where it is exactly, but find it and bring it back."

Leonard nodded once and left Charlie to hold Kurt in place. It was harder to keep his grip now, especially as Kurt's struggles grew more frantic.

"One, two, three, four, five," Kurt mumbled through hysterical breaths, his bones trembling underneath Charlie's fingers. "Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream—"

The door opened again and Leonard rushed back in, clutching the notebook Charlie had seen Kurt carrying with him in the ward. Dr. McManus grabbed the journal and flipped through it as Leonard retook his grip on Kurt's left arm (Kurt whimpered and shied away).

McManus found the page he wanted, then held it up in front of Kurt. Charlie blinked. Kurt (or someone else) had scrawled RED in huge, scratchy letters over two entire pages.

"Zack, open your eyes," McManus said.

Kurt held his breath, his arm pulling against Charlie's hands as he tried to curl up.

"Come on, Zack, you can do it," Charlie urged quietly, giving Kurt's arm what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. "Come on."

Kurt let out a strained groan as he gritted his teeth and tried to inhale, his eyes cracking open slightly to look at his toes.

"Zack, look at me," McManus prodded gently, still holding the notebook up and open.

Finally, Kurt did as he was told. And then he stopped moving altogether.

Charlie's grip loosened slightly on Kurt's shoulder, but Kurt didn't try to pull away. He was staring with wide eyes at the notebook, at RED, his muscles gone rigid. Charlie didn't know if this was the reaction Dr. McManus had expected, but regardless it was probably the scariest thing Charlie had ever seen Kurt do.

"Zack?" McManus prompted.

The position of Kurt's shoulder blades shifted underneath his shirt and his head ducked forward, his neck stretching so that the vertebrae distended the skin below the base of his skull. A low groan rumbled from somewhere near the deepest recesses of his lungs.

"Kurt," Charlie tried, tugging slightly on Kurt's arm but immediately pulling back when Dr. McManus glanced at him and shook his head.

Kurt pulled his legs back under him, rolling onto the balls of his feet with his knees bent into a crouch. His lips pulled back as he bared his teeth at McManus, his jaw jutting forward. And he growled.

Charlie felt a shock jolt through his skin at the noise, and he nearly dropped his hold. By this point, Dr. McManus had shut the notebook and dropped it on the floor behind him, but whatever the notebook's contents had triggered wasn't about to stop.

Kurt's fingers flexed enough to make his knuckles crack, and Charlie could feel the tendons in Kurt's forearm rippling. He was still growling, low and unquestionably hostile.

"Who am I speaking to now?" Dr. McManus asked, evenly meeting Kurt's feral glare.

A gruff, guttural, wordless noise burst out of Kurt's mouth, akin to something one would hear echoing off the stone walls of a 19th century asylum. In this room the echo was killed by the padding on the walls, and it somehow made the noise seem even louder.

"I… don't think he's going to talk," Charlie said, Kurt's tendons coiling and uncoiling under Charlie's hands. Kurt's voice had dropped back down to a growl.

Abruptly, Kurt twisted his arm out of Leonard's grip, catching the orderly off-guard, and in the same movement swiveled around to bite Charlie's fingers. "Ow!" Charlie yanked his hands back as Kurt's teeth caught the cuticles of his fingernails, the sharp spike of pain making him let go before thinking.

Kurt reached forward and hit Charlie hard in the chest, then snarled one last time and crawled to the corner of the room. He crouched again, balancing on his toes and the balls of his feet, letting his head rest between his arms as his fingers pulled lightly at his hair. He was rocking back and forth almost unnoticeably, but Charlie wasn't sure if it was because Kurt couldn't balance perfectly on his toes or if he was trying to calm himself down.

Dr. McManus released a heavy, frustrated exhale. "We're not going to get anything more from him." He stood and picked up Kurt's journal, then retrieved the tape recorder from where it had landed on the opposite side of the room. Leonard and Charlie both straightened up too, ready to leave.

"Charlie, can you stay with him for the next fifteen or twenty minutes?" Dr. McManus requested, checking his watch. "I know you have responsibilities, but Kurt trusts you and I want someone to be here with him, just in case he switches again soon. You don't have to do anything, just make sure he doesn't hurt himself too badly."

Charlie nodded, glancing over his shoulder for a second at Kurt's hunched back. "Sure," he said. He knew perfectly well what the drill was if Kurt did try to hurt himself beyond his habit of mildly biting his wrists. If Kurt went any further, Charlie would have to order a dose of Haldol and stick Kurt with the needle, a rushed procedure that was taxing on everyone involved.

Last resort, he reminded himself as Leonard exited and headed back to 3F.

Dr. McManus paused before returning to his office, his hand holding the door slightly ajar. "Call me if he does switch, even if it's not Kurt," he said.

"No problem," Charlie promised. "Hey, Ted?"

McManus stopped again. "Yeah?"

"What's 'red'? Am I allowed to ask that?"

McManus watched Kurt for a few seconds, appearing deep in thought. "I think it's probably the name of his new alter."

"'Red' is a name?" Charlie echoed.

"If I had to make an educated guess, yes. I'll see you later."

The door shut, and Charlie let out a breath, feeling heavy. He sank onto the floor as far away from Kurt as possible, resting his arms on his knees, and waited.

Kurt woke up with his cheek pressed against the padded floor beneath him, his shoulders and calves stiff and his mouth dry. He blinked, blearily looking around the empty room as he pushed himself up on his arms, his joints cracking loudly in the silence.

He couldn't remember what had happened after he'd come in here with Dr. McManus, but he felt exhausted and sore, as if he'd been electrocuted the day before. He sat back against the wall, scratching his arms where his teeth had marked reddish crescents in the skin. He raked his fingers through his hair, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure built up behind them.

His hands dropped onto his lap, and Kurt found himself staring at the long thin scars of knitted skin stretching from his wrists almost to his elbows.

It was a little strange, he thought, how much effort people were putting into keeping him afloat when all he ever did was pull them down with him. He was just an object that they were too afraid to let go.

A rock pressed against the walls of his throat as a wave of nausea washed over him. He felt worthless.

He gritted his teeth, wrapping his arms around his torso and tucking his hands under his arms to hide the scars. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on his knees, just to put a constant pressure right where it felt like it was about to explode. He was too hot and too cold all at once and he wanted to crawl out of his skin and just be someone else forever.

Kurt didn't know how much time had passed when the door opened and Charlie leaned in. "Kurt?" he said. "You back?"

Kurt coughed, trying to clear the boulder from his throat. "Yeah, it's me," he said.

Charlie came in and knelt in front of him. "How're you feeling?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you've been in here for the past five hours," he said. "It's about one o'clock now. I've been checking on you every twenty minutes or so. You feel ready to head back?"

Kurt swallowed, rubbing his shins anxiously like he was trying to warm them up. "I… think I might need to stay in here for a little while longer," he said unsteadily.

Charlie nodded in sympathy. "How about this – you come back to the ward and hang out in the Quiet Room instead?" he offered. "You can be by yourself and sleep if you want, have some time on your own, and then you can leave whenever you want instead of waiting for me to get you out. Unless you think you're going to hurt yourself, Kurt, in which case, solitary would be safer."

Kurt shook his head. "I'm not going to do anything."

"Well, I'm really glad to hear that," Charlie said, smiling as he stood up and reached down to help Kurt to his feet. "Come on, I'll take you back."

As Kurt followed Charlie back to the ward and through the common room, he avoided glancing at the other residents. His spine tingled and he couldn't escape the feeling that they were all watching him closely behind his back, that he'd done something to them to make them hate him.

Or maybe he just felt like an asshole because Dustin still wouldn't speak to him since they'd fought last week.

Charlie opened the door to the Quiet Room, allowing Kurt to step inside. "You need anything?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay, I'll see you later," Charlie said. "I hope you feel better soon." He shut the door.

The Quiet Room wasn't as bare as Kurt had thought it would be. The walls were painted the same orange as Kurt and Scott's room, and there was a single mattress on the floor with blankets and pillows. There was a shelf in the corner stocked with books and a few other things to occupy the mind that couldn't be physically harmful.

Ironically, the Quiet Room wasn't as quiet as it was in solitary. Kurt could still hear sounds from the common room – muffled voices, the clatter of the Connect Four tray as it was reset for another round. It was strangely comforting.

It wasn't enough to make Kurt feel immediately better, though, and he dropped himself onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. His skin felt too small, and he wanted to shed it like a crab.

His eyes tracing the patterns in the ceiling until they almost seemed to move, Kurt imagined crawling slowly out of his skin… Crawling until he could stand straight in a new coat, one that wasn't pallid from months of exhaustion or scarred by razors and cigarettes. A new skin strong enough to hold him inside.

Most Mondays, Burt was in Washington before lunchtime, but not today. Since he and Carole had to be in Toledo tomorrow for the trial (Burt just wanted to get it over with, but he was still dreading meeting John Truman face-to-face), there was no point in being in DC for less than a day. He'd been on the phone all day attempting to do the same amount of work remotely, but working as a politician from home was far more tiring than acting as one in person.

It was past six when Burt was finally able to hang up and sit down to dinner with Finn and Carole, but halfway through his lasagna the phone rang again. "Sorry," he said as he stood to go answer it, already preparing to rip Linus a new one for not giving him an hour to eat a meal with his family.

He snatched the phone off the shelf in the living room, catching it on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Dad?"

Burt stopped short. "Kurt, are you okay? What happened?"

"I, uh…" Kurt's voice was wavering, and Burt could hear that he was struggling not to cry. "I had a bad day."

"Okay," Burt said, sitting in his armchair with the receiver clutched tightly in his fingers, trying to keep Kurt where he was. Dinner could wait. "Tell me everything."

There was a sniff on the other end, and a heavy breath as Kurt tried to speak evenly. "I'm just too tired, Dad," he said, his voice grating like broken glass. "I want this to be over. I don't want to be sick anymore."

Burt swallowed. Kurt sounded impossibly small. "Did something happen, Kurt?"

"I don't know, I—" Kurt's words were strained tight and thin, spoken through his teeth; Burt could hear it. "I can't remember."

"It's okay," Burt said, despite having no idea whether or not he'd just lied. "You're going to be okay."

"I'm so s-sorry, Dad," Kurt sobbed.

"For what?"

"I'm sorry you have me."

A hot spike of panic stabbed through Burt's chest, and he shook his head. "Don't say that, Kurt," he argued. "Don't ever say that."

Kurt didn't respond, but Burt could hear him crying and trying to breathe, clutching the phone so tightly that it was making noise on the line.

"Dad?"

"I'm here."

There was a beat before Kurt could speak again. "…I was r-raped."

(And God, why did it sound like a confession?)

Burt felt his chest cave in, his heart and lungs collapsing under the weight of the rock in his throat. "I know, Kurt," he said.

There was a strangled sob, and then another, and Burt couldn't do anything but listen.

"Please don't hang up," Kurt pleaded.

"I won't," Burt promised. "I won't."