“I said what are you going to do about it?” Karofsky restated adding emphasis to his words by shoving Puck into the row of lockers.

Puck growled and leaned forward and punched Karofsky in the face.

“That all you got Puckerman?” Karofsky questioned as he throws Puck back towards the lockers and held him there by the throat.

Puck kicked him in the balls and Karofsky stumbled backwards in pain.

Puck took this opportunity to jump him and tackle him to the ground.

“Dude, get up! He’s not worth it.” Finn yelled pulling Puck away.

“Did you catch the gay from Hummel or something? Turning down a fight isn’t like you Hudson.” Karofsky provoked.

“I just don’t want to get involved. Come on Puck; leave him for the police to deal with.” Finn said walking away with Puck, Sam, and Mike in tow.

“You and the fag are alike; he didn’t put up much of a fight either. He took me so nicely, like he wanted me.” Karofsky yelled after them, having to get in the last word.

Shit why did he just say that?

“Is that a confession Karofsky?” Finn asked turning around.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Uhhm no? I’m not gay dude. Maybe he would have liked it but I’m straight.” He choked out.

“Were not stupid, we just heard you admit to attacking him.” Puck replied.

“No I didn’t.” Karofsky back peddled.

“Yeah, you did. You said ‘he didn’t put up a fight’ and that ‘he took you nicely’ to me that sounds like a confession enough.” Sam replied.

Karofsky shoved Sam out of way and stormed off.

“Where do you think you’re going? The games about to start.” Puck questioned.

“Going to the hospital to teach pretty boy a lesson about how to keep his faggy mouth shut.” He growled.

“One he hasn’t said anything to anyone. He refuses to talk because he’s so scared of what you might do. And two, he’s unconscious right now. You really fucked him up Karofsky, the doctors say he probably won’t live, and if he does he’ll never fully recover.” Finn said sadly.

“Dude, I’m so sorry to hear that.” Sam comforted him while Puck confronted Karofsky.

“If you even think of stepping one foot inside that hospital or laying a finger on mah boy Kurt, you’ve got another thing coming. I will beat the shit out of you and I’m sure about a dozen other people would love to join in.” Puck remarked.

Karofsky continued to walk away but Puck grabbed his arm.

“Let go, I’m not going to the hospital, and I’m not gonna touch ‘your boy’ I just can’t stay here.” He said before leaving.

So many thoughts were racing through his head at that moment.

­Had he really just confessed?

Kurt wasn’t talking because he was afraid?

Kurt was practically dead?

He had done that to him?

How could he live with himself?

What was he going to do?

Should he turn himself in?

Should he wait for them to find him?

The part that bothered him the most was that Puckerman had referred to Kurt as his boy.

He knew Puck didn’t mean it in any other way than a protective friendship but it got Karofsky wondering…

Why couldn’t Kurt be his boy?

He was with that stupid Blaine kid, he answered himself.

And the fact that Kurt didn’t love him.

It was quite far from that actually.

Kurt hated him.

He could understand why.

But in that moment he really just wanted love.

Even if he had to force himself on him, Karofsky really just wanted Kurt to love him.

But he never will.

Whether he lives or not, Kurt would never love him.

He understood that.

But that didn’t mean he’d accept that.

He got into his car and drove.

In no general direction, just with the idea that he needed to go somewhere.

Maybe the drive would allow him to clear his mind.

Or maybe the silence was frustrating and all he could think about was Kurt.

How he hurt him.

How he loved him.

How he hurt the person he loved.

He was a monster.

He needed to stop thinking about it before he did something drastic.

Okay radio.

Let’s just listen to the radio.

Click.

“My tea’s gone cold I’m wondering why I got out of bed at all the morning rain clouds up my window. And I can’t see at all. And even if I could it’ll all be grey, but your picture on my wall. It reminds me, that it’s not so bad, it’s not so bad-” The song rang out over the radio.

Nope, not this song.

He quickly switched the station.

Click.

Okay new station, classic, okay Nirvana. Good.

“Polly wants a cracker. Think I should get off her first. I think she wants some water to put out the blow torch.  Isn’t me, have a seed. Let me clip your dirty wings. Let me take a ride, cut yourself. Want so help, please myself. Got some rope, you have been told. Promise you, I have been true. Let me take a ride, cut yourself. Want some help, please myself. Poly want a cracker. Maybe she would like some food. She asked me to untie her; a chase would be nice for a few. Me, have a seed. Let me clip your dirty wings. Let me take a ride, cut yourself. Want so help, please myself. Got some rope, you have been told. Promise you, I have been true. Let me take a ride, cut yourself. Want some help, please myself-”

Oh God no.

Is every song about rape?

Or are they just trying to fuck with his conscience.

Another station.

Click.

“My name is Luka; I live on the second floor. I live upstairs from you. Yes I think you’ve seen me before.  If you hear something late at night. Some kind of trouble. Some kind of fight. Just don’t ask me what it was. Just don’t ask me what it was. Just don’t ask me what it was. I think it’s because I’m clumsy, I try not to talk too loud. Maybe it’s because I’m crazy, I try not to act to proud. They only ht until you cry. After that you don’t ask why. You just don’t argue anymore. You just don’t argue anymore. You just don’t argue anymore.  Yes I think I’m okay. I walk into the door again. Well, if you ask that’s what I’ll say. And it’s not your business anyway-”

Really?

Really?

No no no.

He couldn’t take it.

It’s as if the radio was speaking to him.

Stupid music with it’s stupid meanings.

It was like it was taunting him, outlining his life story and taunting him. The first song he cut off before Eminem could rant about being a psycho stalker who abused and murder his girlfriend and himself. The second song, had that been him raping Kurt? And the third. Oh God the third. Is that what Kurt’s life was like? He had beaten and abused him and Kurt couldn’t say anything about it. Oh God what had he done.

What. Had. He. Done.

And more importantly what was he going to do now?

Before he could clear his head he realized where he had driven to.

Lima, Ohio Hospital.

Maybe it was the songs.

Maybe it was his subconscious.

But all he knew was he was here now.

In the parking lot.

Parking his car.

Getting out of the car.

Walking across the lot.

To the main entrance.

Up to the front desk.

And before he could register what he was doing.

“Hello. Do you know what room Kurt Hummel is staying in?”