I

Sitting alone in a corner of his room, Kurt Hummel was crying so hard he was choking.

He was tired. Angry. Disappointed.

Since his parents had divorced when he was twelve, he felt like he had lost both of them. For the first years, his mom became obsessed with his fathers life. What was he doing, who was he seeing, everything. And she used Kurt to know every little detail.

On the other hand, his relationship with his father hadnt been that great in the time before the divorce. So he wasnt expecting it when his father almost demanded that Kurt spend half of the week with him in his new house and every other weekend too. He also wasnt expecting it when his father started yelling at him all the time for nothing and made him become the house maid.

Kurt had to do everything at his fathers house: clean, wash and rinse the dishes, wash and iron the clothes even if they werent his, cook, set the table. Everything. He was also expected to have perfect grades at school and never talk back or argue about anything.

Life at home with his mom was totally different. She had to take care of every little detail, shed get anxious if she didnt and, of course, didnt let him do anything… but then she would get angry cause he didnt help her with nothing and complain that she had to do everything on her own.

His mother was lost. There was no other way to explain what was happening with her. She had spent so many years with her husband telling her what to do and when, that she was at a loose end without him.

The big problems started when both his parents started seriously dating people and engaging in new relationships after they casually dated a few people here and there.

They totally forgot about Kurt.

They both started trying to change the designated days that they were supposed to have Kurt in their homes and then tell him to tell his mom/dad to stop changing the arranged days because they already had plans.

They already had plans…

Didnt anyone think about Kurts feelings? Being treated like an object that they wanted one day but on the next would throw him away.

So he started closing into himself; he wouldnt talk if not spoken to and spent the whole day –at least when he wasnt in the school- closeted in his room.

School was far away from being his safe haven. He was different and people dont like different and they were anything but shy when they expressed their displeasure.

Kurt didnt have many friends. All the ones from past years had already transferred to different schools or moved. And he was already used to being closed off and practically lived with his earphones in, so he didnt make any new friends.

After dating a few more people, his mother started seeing this one guy and she seemed really happy with him; and so did his father when he was introduced to a friends cousin. And Kurt was happy for them, really. But the only problem was that both their partners lived in different states.

So if he had felt alone and left behind before, it was nothing compared to what was coming. Both his parents would forget the parent /teachers nights – and blame the other for it, of course- talk on the phone with their couples while having dinner or sharing something with Kurt, the fights between them became regular again, cause they both wanted to leave for weekends and expected the other to "have Kurt at their house", as if he was a pet or something. Of course, Kurt felt like no matter which one of his parents would go away, the one who had to take care of him would resent him the whole week. Actually, he felt like, at that point, both his parents would have rather not having him in the first place.

Soon he started having problems with himself.

Kurt felt unwanted. He didnt feel good enough.

How could someone want him when even his parents would have preferred not having him around? That was a question he had in his head all day, every day.

What happened next was just an accident, a stupid accident.

He was on internet after having a huge fight with his father, in which the older Hummel told him that no one cared about him, no one wanted a depressed kid around them. So he looked up for "depression" on internet. Along with the definition, the symptoms and the different types of depression he found a lot of blogs of depressed people whod harm themselves and upload photos, others whod made the most beautiful yet painful poems or songs. Or there also were ones who invited you to share your experiences or feelings. He also found people who were saying that they were going to kill themselves or harm themselves cause they couldnt take it anymore due to their differing situations.

That was how he found himself awake late at night, or early in the morning, talking to strangers in different parts of the world out of suicide or self-harming. He found out that most of them, or the ones whod answer him, would tell him that he didnt understand cause he surely had a nice life full of rainbows. He also found lots of people whod post about killing themselves every single day and theyd answer the people who sent them mails not to do it that they "couldnt take it anymore and that life just didnt matter" but half an hour later theyd be posting some silly thing about a band or a show they liked. At first, he got glad they felt better but, as the days passed by and they kept saying they were going to kill themselves that very minute and again ten minutes later theyd post a photo about their milkshake or the cookies the made, he started getting suspicious. Were they really that depressed or did they just need someone who told them that they mattered? Kurt didnt understand them: why would they do that entire circus every day and actually worry people? Was it all a lie and they were simply laughing at peoples concern? Was there someone who talked them out of suicide every day or was it to get attention? He didnt know and he didnt understand.

After a few weeks of entering to the Depression tag on Tumblr every day, he found a post about addictions, and self-harming was one of those. The post said that if you did something for twenty one days, like smoke or cut, itd become an habit.

Kurt didnt believe that, and then was when he made a mistake: he decided to show himself that harming himself wouldnt ever become addictive even if he did the twenty one days thing. How could someone become addicted to something so painful? For a start he didnt even understand how could it "relieve" people, as tons of teenagers said on their blogs.

So he started cutting himself.

At first hed find just some semi-sharp things and slid them against the skin of his forearms, leaving just some reddened scratches or cutting just a little bit, not even seeing blood there. But, as much as he kept looking at the pictures in internet, he became more secure that he was doing it all wrong… and it wouldnt work if he was doing it wrong. So he bought a few blades and sharp things, like a knife or even a pencil sharpener, from which he later took off the blade. Once he had it all and disinfected it all too, cause it was one to cut himself to prove him he was stronger than everybody thought and he wouldnt fall into the same thinking; but it would be silly to get an infection or a disease cause he hadnt disinfected the tools.

So he tried again. He cut himself on the same arm he had scratched earlier but he tried to really cut himself this time, not just some light marks. He found that it hurt more when he poured alcohol on his cuts than when he was actually cutting the skin.

As the days went by he kept doing it, without realizing it he was cutting himself deeper and deeper each time.

Things with his parents were worse every day and he felt more and more self-conscious. He felt really worthless and every little silly thing hed do wrong would feel like a proof that he wasnt good for anything. If he got a bad score on a surprise exam, if he accidentally broke a cup while washing the dishes, if he forgot his pen in his house and realized it in class, if he cut himself while shaving, if one of the potatoes was slightly burned, if he couldnt do a math equation… every little thing showed him that he wasnt good for anything.

He hated to see how his parents would look at him with so much hate but then theyd had the sweetest tone and the biggest smile on their face when their partners would call. He hated how masochistic he felt when hed sit on the other side of the door where one of his parents was, just to hear them laugh. If he squeezed his eyes really hard, he could pretend that they were laughing with him, that they did actually care.

A week into his twenty one days experiment, he had a huge fight with his father again. The old man told him once more that no one cared or loved him, that he was good for nothing that he was just a bother to everyone around him. And Kurt believed it. It was true, there was no one in the world who actually cared about him, whod call him to see how he was or would visit him if he had an accident and was in the hospital. Actually he believed that not even his parents would be at his funeral if he died. Why would they if they had new partners who were their sun and stars? He wasnt good for anything either. Everything he did, he did it wrong. And hewas a bother, his parents practically shoving him in each others arms was his proof.

As soon as he got to his room sobbing, just wanting to disappear. He reached straight under his bed, where he kept a little black box with his blades and knives. He didnt realize what was he doing, he just threw his hoodie away and started cutting time and time again. Each cut was deeper than the other, slicing himself from his wrist to the inside of his elbow and soon his jeans and the floor were covered in crimson drops. When he couldnt find anywhereon that arm that wasnt already red, he turned to the other, and then, his legs. Ten minutes later he was covered in blood and cuts, his sobs had gone quiet and he wasnt really thinking about the fight with his father, he wasnt thinking about anything actually. He just felt numb, like he wasnt really there. So when he felt like it, he stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower, feeling more relaxed than he had in years. Yeah, the hot water hurt like a bitch on his wounded skin, but he didnt really care. He took the time to clean well each cut, though. Then he looked for an old towel and wet it under the water to clean his bedrooms floor.

When he finished he put some old baggy and long sleeved clothes, and went downstairs to clean his stained jeans. He wasnt expecting it when his father approached him crying and told him how sorry how was for what he had said and that Kurt was the best thing that ever happened to him and that he loved him so much. He also wasnt expecting the tight hug his father gave him. How much time had passed since one of his parents had showed him love like that? Since anyone showed him a little love?

For a few days, his father was acting a bit more attentive; cooking for Kurt or asking how was his day. As the days passed by, the man seemed more and more uncomfortable with Kurts silence and tried to talk to him more. The more his father tried to get him to talk, the more Kurt shut him out.

It went worse when his mom decided that she preferred her boyfriend and moved out to another state, telling Kurt only once she had packed her things in her car and was about to leave. She told him that shed come back to the rest of her things later and that he had the house all for himself. She also told him that she wanted him to visit her and send her messages daily, to let her know how he was.

His father was in rage when he found out. For once, Kurt believed that he was angry because of his ex-wife behavior rather than at Kurt having to look after himself. Kurt insisted that he could live alone in the house and that hed look out for a job and that his mom would send him money too but his father wouldnt hear a word of it.

Two days later Kurt had moved his stuff into his fathers house, including his mom huge TV, which was on his room now. When he was "completely moved", as his father called it, the older Hummel ordered a pizza and theycelebrated.

His mothers abandonment left him hopeless. That was it. He was the most unwanted person on the whole planet. His own mother had left him. Mothers were supposed to love their children more than anything, but she didnt loved him cause he was useless, worthless, unloved.

Kurt almost had a panic attack one afternoon his father entered into his room abruptly and he was cutting himself. He was glad he was sitting on the floor with his back to the bed, which meant that he had his back to the door, and he had the time to roll down his sleeves to avoid his father seeing the cuts. He could feel his sleeve sticking to his arm because of the dripping blood.

"Do you want to go shopping? You like shopping," his father stated.

Kurt looked at him with doe eyes. Yes, he did love shopping, but his father hated it. Why did he want to go shopping?

"I, huh, give me a second to go to the bathroom."

He took another hoodie and rushed past his father to go to the bathroom and clean himself up. He combed his hair and went out to meet his dad.

It was kind of a good day, if you asked Kurt. Yeah, his father spent most of it talking on the phone with his girlfriend but they were together for more than three hours and that hadnt happened in a long time. His father insisted that Kurt pick new clothes and shoes cause he wasnt dressing like himself lately and his dad guessed it was because his clothes had gotten old and didnt fit him anymore. That was when Kurt realized he hadnt been that worried about his image lately, he hadnt been waking up early to comb his hair or pick his outfit the night before. Actually, he would just pick some big dark hoodie that would hide his wounds, some straight jeans that wouldnt itch the cuts of his thighs.

So he picked out some clothes: dark sweaters, hoodies and some baggy jeans.

"This is not you, Kurt." His father looked warily at the pile of clothes in Kurts hands. "I saw a few of those colorful pants you like so much, and pick a few shirts or those vests."

If Kurt was being honest, he did like a pair of white skin tights jeans and some button up shirts and vests. But, he couldnt see himself in those clothes anymore. He wasnt that confident guy whod walk around the world with his head high and proud of who he was; he was a quiet closed off guy, who was always thinking that people was looking at him cause they knew his secret, that they could see the cuts under his clothes, and how useless he was.

He ended picking a few shirts, vests and jeans along with scarves and shoes his father showed him. But, secretly, he was happier with the hoodies and baggy clothes he was also buying.

Kurt didnt understand what had gotten into his he talked to him, then he took him shopping and then he insisted on buying flamboyant clothes.

"You know Kurt, you used to be such a happy little boy, and now you barely talk… let alone smile," his father told him when they were going back home.

"I just… I guess I dont feel like talking anymore."

And, just like that, they went back to what they were: two strangers with the same blood living in the same house.

It hurt Kurt worst, cause it showed him how their relationship could be but wasnt… and it was all his fault. It was his damn fault cause he wouldnt even talk to his father, who was trying to save their relationship.

Nervously and even angrier with himself, Kurt started digging his fingernails in his palms and biting hard on his lip, wanting so desperately to cut. And he did, as soon as they arrived home. He slid the razor time and time again along his skin as he sobbed and punched at his thigh. He felt so stupid and such an asshole. How could he do that to his father when he only wanted to talk to his son? He was the worst son on earth and he deserved being alone and unwanted.

The days seemed to pass so fast after that day at the mall with his father and, when the twenty first day arrived Kurt decided that he wouldnt cut himself anymore.

Too bad that just one day after that, he heard his father talking on the phone with his girlfriend telling her that he didnt know what to do with Kurt. Kurt knew it was because he was such a bad son that his father didnt know what to do with him… or that was what Kurt interpreted. Once again he didnt realize what he was doing until he saw the blood running down his arms again.

After he cleaned everything up and threw his razors away he sat on his bed looking down at his hands. He wasnt an addict. He hadnt become addicted to cutting. He just needed to relieve the tension inside and the razors just happened to be there. But now that he had thrown them away he wouldnt cut ever again.

When he convinced himself that cutting hadnt become a habit to him, he relaxed a little bit and was able to sleep.

But it didnt stop there, in the following weeks hed find a way to hurt himself without having to get a new razor, hed re-open his scars with his nails, bit hard on his lips until they bleed or get really swollen, pull his hair out or punch his thighs.

Less than two weeks after he threw his razors out, he couldnt take it anymore. He needed to cut himself. So he bought a new bunch of razors and knifes but he convinced himself that he was going through a hard moment in his life and that it was just for critical moments, he wouldnt cut regularly… he wasnt a cutter.

Things got worse and worse in his life, at least socially. He didnt care about what his parents thought if he didnt talk anymore, he ate less and less, he felt tired every single moment of every day. Even if he had just woke up: he was tired. He was more pale and thinner than ever, he had dark circles under his eyes even when he slept every single moment of the day when he wasnt cutting, doing his homework, eating or having a shower. He couldnt look at peoples faces anymore, cause he was sure they knew, they could see it in his eyes. He was so pathetic, so shameful, so useless and they knew it.

It killed him when his father looked at him with pity or petted his hair or hugged him out of the blue.

Kurt knew he wasnt the son his father wanted, and it killed him that he had to deal with the lame excuse of son he got.

And that didnt seem fair to Kurt. So he tried being as invisible to his father as he could. He tried to be as little as possible in his house and that was worse for him, cause he was more and more tired every day, hed feel more anxious when he was away from his home because he constantly felt that people were staring at him.

And then, one day, what he had been so afraid of, happened. Someone found him cutting.