The car ride home was an odd combination of awkward and depressing for Kurt.

Finn was driving with Rachel riding shotgun and Mercedes and Kurt snuggling in the back seat.

They hadn’t even pulled out of the campgrounds before Rachel had turned around and glared at Kurt.

“Spill.” She said fiercely.

“What?” He asked nervously.

“About Blaine stupid. Now spill!” Rachel demanded.

“Yeah white boy what the fuck happened this summer between you two?” Mercedes asked.

“What? Blaine’s gay?” Finn asked confused.

“Yeah he was Kurt’s summer fling.” Rachel answered.

“It wasn’t a fling. I love him.” Kurt defended.

“And clearly he loves you.” Rachel laughed harshly.

“Rachel, be nice.” Kurt said sadly.

“Sorry Kurt. But I’m angry.” Rachel answered.

“Why are you angry?” Kurt laughed.

“Because he used you Kurt. And that upsets me. We love you and we want to defend you. He fucking used you and you say you love him.” Rachel laughed.

“Do you really think he was just using me?” Kurt asked sadly.

“Honesty, yes.” Rachel replied quickly.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Kurt said defensively.

“Kurt, it’s okay. We’re here for you.” Mercedes said holding him tighter.

“Rachel he wouldn’t do that.” Kurt cried his words not even convincing himself.

“Oh my god. He was using me.” Kurt cried.

“I know, I know. It’s okay.” Rachel said sadly.

“Oh my god. You both told me from the very beginning.” Kurt cried. “How could I have been so stupid? I should have seen this. But why did he tell me he loved me?” Kurt asked confused.

“To get in your pants.” Rachel said in her brutally honest tone.

“Do you think so?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah Kurt I think so.” Mercedes said softly.

“Wait you slept with him?” Finn asked.

“Finn where have you been?” Mercedes laughed fondly.

“Wait when?” Finn asked.

“Finn did you not notice whenever they snuck away together? They were hardly ever with us. They were out in the woods fucking or something.” Rachel said crudely.

“The boathouse.” Kurt mumbled.

“You guys were like always gone, oh my God. How did I not notice?” Finn laughed.

“You can be a little clueless.” Kurt teased.

“He’s clueless? You let Blaine play you! I hope he was at least good in bed.” Rachel said harshly.

“Very.” Kurt blushed.

“Oh God. Ew! More than I ever needed to know. Ew ew ew ew!” Finn laughed pretending to gag.

“Can we just not talk about it? I feel stupid and I don’t wanna be reminded of it.” Kurt said sadly.

But then again could one ever forget something like that? As the summer came to an end and the school year drew closer it seemed all Kurt could do was be reminded of Blaine. Whether it be a song or a laugh or just a thought. It always brought him back to that boy.

And knowing he’d never have that put him into a serious depression.

School starting and bullying picking up wasn’t helping either. But it was also the things at home that drove him closer and closer to a breaking point.

His parents called him out on his dramatic weight loss and his not eating and sent him to a doctor. He really didn’t want to go and he fought it the entire time. But he was dragged their anyway.

The doctor said he was anorexic and suffered from a body image disorder along with said eating disorder. To which Kurt laughed and remarked something along the lines of ‘don’t you have to be skinny to have an eating disorder?’ clearly this didn’t help his case and the doctor put him on some serious prescriptions and a food plan.

The medicine he took didn’t help all that much, it made him depressed and filled with anxiety.

Along with his internal struggle things at school were no better.

It was still the first week and he already had enough bruises to make it seem like it’d been a year. He was tired of being a human punching bag, tired of everyone picking on him, everyone hurting him. He was in no mental condition to deal with all the stress and each day drove him closer and closer to his breaking point.

And one day he simply lost it. Held up in his room he could no longer take it. Things weren’t getting better and he just wanted release. Release from the pain he kept bottle up, release from everything.

It’s not like he hadn’t considered it before.

He made his way into the bathroom and sought out a fresh razor blade. He rolled up his sleeve and steadied his breathing.

As the blade pierced his skin and dragged jaggedly across his wrist everything seemed to still. As the blood rushed out of his arm so did everything he was feeling. It was like this controlled physical pain alleviated him from all the mental pain he endured. When pain was centered in one area it was as if everything else became numb.

He knew this wasn’t healthy, but he also know how much he needed this release. He figured as long as he didn’t cut too too deep he’d be fine. This he could control. This was the one thing he did have control over. And he liked it very much.

He kept the cuts neat and orderly in a line down his wrist and up his arm. They are all the same size and depth each one a red line against his pale arm. He admired his work feeling calmer than ever before. He wiped his arm clean and bandaged himself up.

This was a metaphor of his life. He could move on. He needed to release all the hate and pain he felt. The wipe everything clean and bandage his life what could protect him?

Maybe after all this form of release could be what gets him through in the end. It certainly helped him an awful lot this day.

He took to this method rather regularly for the next few weeks. Finding it becoming a habit.

No one had caught on to him as of yet and he was always careful not to cut to deep. He had it under control.

Every time something went wrong, things became too much to deal with, he turned to cutting. In cutting finding relief in a blade or a knife. He made due with whatever knowing that there always be something there made him feel safe.

He could never count of someone being there for him, Blaine had proved that, but now with cutting it was always there. Would always be there.

He began to rely heavily on it, but that didn’t bother him.

He’d always have his razorblade. Objects can’t leave you he thought. Therefore he’d never be alone.

Not again.