Blaine had been home from the hospital for 2 weeks. 2 weeks of doing nothing but lying bed waiting for his cuts, bruises and broken bones to heal. He had had the stitches from his forehead removed the previous day and now all he was left with was a fading black eye, 3 broken ribs and a cast of his left arm.

The emotional damage however was a lot more extensive and could not be simply patched up with a bandage or several stitches.

Over the past 2 weeks, Blaine's father had become more frustrated with his son and blamed Blaine for getting himself beaten up.

"You're asking for it Blaine", he growled one night over dinner. Blaine just kept his eyes focused on his plate and tried not to let his father see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, "It's your own fault that those boys attacked you. I mean look at you, you don't exactly help yourself do you? You wear ridiculous clothes, you asked a boy to a dance and don't even get me started on your hair", he remarked as he gestured towards Blaine's head. Again Blaine just stayed silent and that seemed to do the trick. His father finished his rant and Blaine quickly cleaned his plate and excused himself to his room for the night.

He shut off his bedroom lights and curled up under his covers, lying in a way to accommodate his broken ribs and support his wrist at the same time. He cried himself to sleep, again.

*

The next morning he was woken up by his father storming into his room and pulling open his curtains.

"Up, now Blaine. We have an errand to run", was all his father said before leaving the room again.

Blaine knew that it was best to follow orders and did as he was told. Arriving downstairs twenty minutes later, fully dressed, to find his father waiting for him in the entrance way.

"In the car, now", he followed his father down the drive and climbed carefully into the passenger side, aware of his tender ribs.

He didn't know where his father was taking him until they pulled into a parking lot ten minutes later and were standing in front of a familiar shop front.

"Dad", Blaine whispered, "Please don't make me do this", his voice was so full of fear, but his father ignored it.

"No Blaine, this has gone on for too long now, you're 14, we are not going to stand here and argue you are going inside and we're cutting your hair. Finally then you might start to act how a normal 14 year boy should and start looking at girls", his father seethed before grabbing his uninjured wrist and pulling him inside the barber shop.

"Ah, good morning Mr Anderson, what brings you here today? You were only here last week", the barber asks his father.

"I've brought my son in, Blaine. As you can see his hair is out of control and it's time that he started to present himself as a young man rather than a child", his father replied.

"Very well, Blaine, take a seat", his father pushed him forward until he was sitting uncomfortably in the big leather chair and a red and white striped cape was being pinned at the back of neck.

"Dad", he pleaded one last time, trying to stop the tears from overflowing.

"What will it be then?", the barber asked Blaine, but instead it was his father who replied.

"Short back and sides, and whatever you can do with the top", Blaine felt his stomach drop to his ankles as he watched the barber in the mirror pick up his pair of clippers.

Blaine knew that there was nothing he could do, once his father's mind was made up there was no changing it, and he didn't have the strength to fight, his body barely allowed him to sit up without pain at the moment let alone try and escape the barbers hands.

He closed his eyes as he felt a hand on the top of his head push his chin down to rest on his chest and he heard the low hum of the clippers before he felt them rest against the back of his neck before slowly making their way upwards.

Blaine let out a small whimper, but managed to disguise it as a sigh, there really was no turning back now. All he could do was move his head when the barber asked him to.

The tears threatened to fall again when the barber moved from the back of his head to his left side and made a pass up to his temple, Blaine's heart almost skipped a beat when he saw just how short his father was making him cut his hair. When looking at the clipped hair over his ear, it was impossible to tell whether his hair was curly or not because it was too short to form a curl.

Before long the barber had finished both sides and the back and Blaine breathed a sigh of relief as the clippers were switched off.

The barber began spraying the remaining curls left on the top of his head but before long, they too were falling to the floor after every snip the barber made with his scissors.

Curl after curl fell, hitting Blaine's shoulders before rolling down the cape to join the rest of them on the floor.

"How does that look Mr Anderson", asked the barber after cutting the final curl. Mr Anderson hummed in approval.

"Much better thank you. Blaine, what do you think?", his father asked him. Blaine knew now though that this was his father's own subtle way of mocking him.

"It's fine", Blaine said in an almost inaudible voice. He was still a little in shock and couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror.

What hair had previously been on his head was now covering his shoulders, resting in his lap or had already fallen to the floor. There was almost a small mountain of black curls resting at the barber's feet and Blaine tried not to look at them as the barber pulled away the cape and gestured for Blaine to stand.

Blaine did so and avoided standing on his curls. Even though they weren't attached anymore, he still felt uneasy and didn't want to stand on them as it just made the whole ordeal seem even more real.

"Now that wasn't so hard was it Blaine?", his father asked, almost sarcastically, once they were both back in the car and on their way home.

"No", was all he could reply with because he knew that any other answer would displease his father and then he really would be in trouble once they arrived home.

As soon as the car was placed in park, Blaine was out of it and going straight inside and up to his room. He avoided his reflection and climbed straight back into bed, now allowing himself the opportunity to cry.

As he lay there he hoped that he would never have to go through anything like that again and he could only hope that the new school that he started next week, wouldn't give him the chance to be put through anything like the last month.