Kurt's heart froze in his chest.

Around him District 1 was silent. So quiet. Kurt was confused.

Why was it so quiet?

What had happened?

What?

His eyes were glued to the giant screen suspended in front of him but his eyes and mind were telling him two entirely different stories.

Upon the screen, Colin's massive form was magnified, arms raised in victory, yelling his triumph to the skies.

No doubt the fans in the Capitol were loving every minute of it.

Beside him, he heard Rachel crying softly, burying her face into Finn's shoulder, while her boyfriend was just staring in shock at screen. Mercedes was praying quietly, eyes turned up to the sky, but glazing over.

What was happening?

"Why is everyone crying? Blainey's going to wake up right? He's just resting. Santana?" Brittany whispered. The Latina just pulled Brittany close, tears streaking down her stony face.

He felt a warm hand tightly clasp his shoulder. His dad. But he was still frozen in place, unable to acknowledge him as his mind raced.

The cold air bit his cheeks, particularly the places where his tear tracks were drying. Kurt blinked his lashes, feeling another teardrop fall and slide down his face. Why was he crying? Memories and horrible images flashed in his mind and he suddenly remembered watching Blaine getting hurt, being hit over and over, screaming in pain, sobbing in exhaustion as he struggled against the monstrous tribute who was still celebrating on the screen. He remembered how it hurt to watch the love of his life in pain, every blow against his battered body slamming into Kurt's gut. He remembered crying as he watched.

But what had happened?

Why was it so quiet?

Where were all the cheers that had rang out through the air, egging Blaine on?

What had happened?

The image on the screen switched, and suddenly Blaine's lifeless form was suspended above District 1.

Oh.

Kurt shook his head, eyes staring at his boyfriend's crumpled form. He tilted his head to the side, as if trying to see the screen from a different angle. Blaine was on his side, curls falling onto his eyes, plastered onto his face by the pouring rain. Kurt once again felt the sudden urge to reach and brush those dark curls away from his eyes. He wished he could do that again. Simply brush away curls. Was it so much to ask for?   

Kurt started to notice everything wrong with the picture. Blaine's blood pouring out and dripping over the rocks. His too still form.

Kurt blinked. He realized he was holding his breath. Waiting. Waiting for Blaine to stand up and flash a smile to the cameras along with a small wink. Waiting to hear his voice again. Waiting to see those hazel eyes.

His gut dropped and he felt empty inside. His mind still struggling to piece everything together. To comprehend what his eyes were seeing and what it meant.

All the quiet whispers and sobs were quieted and hush fell across the crowd.

Suddenly, an agonized shout tore through the air and he turned to see Blaine's father running at the screen.

"NOOO!"

He screamed in anguish. Pushing through the crowd, as if to launch himself through the screen and protect his son. Kurt watched Cooper Anderson, Blaine's big brother recently returned from District 4 to support his parents in such a difficult time, hold him back, wrapping his strong arms around his father.

"THAT'S MY SON! THAT'S MY BOY!" He sobbed. "THAT'S MY BOY!"

The square erupted with sobs, shouts, protests, and cries.

Kurt stood among the roiling crowd feeling his heart drop heavily as he finally figured it out. Memories and moments flashing behind his eyes. 

Blaine.

Blaine was...

Blaine.

Dead.

Blaine...

Blaine was dead.

Kurt felt he was watching from above. He realized that he was trying to force his way to the screen. Why was he struggling against the arms that held him back? He figured he was just trying something, anything, to get to his boyfriend and kiss him awake and hold him in his arms.

But he was miles from where he was.

And he couldn't save him now.

Kurt collapsed on his knees as his father held him close, arms still wound tight around his chest like a vice. He screamed and sobbed, slender body heaving as each sob tore out of him. The sounds of his heart tearing itself apart, ripping itself apart and setting itself on fire.

No.

No.

Not Blaine. Not Blaine.

Kurt shook, sobs subsiding as he looked back up at the screen. The camera was still trained on Blaine's motionless form. Why? Why did they still insist on parading it upon the screen? Anger bubbled inside him as his father helped him to his feet.

 "We get it!" He shouted angrily, tears rolling over his cheeks. "We see it! We see him-" He choked, voice cracking and shifting into another sob.

His father shushed him quietly, whispering soothing words in his ear, urging his son to look away. But Kurt couldn't.

He stood shaking as he stared at Blaine's body on the screen.

When suddenly.

A movement.

Blaine was slowly shifting his fingers, rolling onto his back, face screwed in pain.

District 1 collectively gasped as Blaine twisted onto his knees, dragging himself up to stand, limbs and body visibly shaking with the effort. Squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip hard as to not give away his presence, Blaine slowly slid the knife out of his body, tears of agony dripping down his pale and bruised face.

Kurt was silent, the heart in his throat beating wildly. He dared not utter a word. Or a breath. In fear that maybe Colin could hear him and look behind him. He watched Blaine take a shaky step forward, pain flashing across his face with every movement.

Another step.

And another.

Another.

Panem watched, eyes wide, as Blaine crept up behind Colin, who still ridiculously roaring to audience, hungry for their attention. Suddenly reaching over and pressing the knife against the other tribute's throat, Blaine choked out softly, whispering menacingly in his ear as every microphone was straining to hear his words:

"This isn't just entertainment."

And with that, in one swift motion, Blaine sliced the blade across Colin's throat.