Blaine was a good kid. A nice kid. The type of kid you wanted your kid to hang around. 

Always kept his room clean, had good grades, did his chores, came home on time, listened to 

his parents.

The only thing that was different about him worth noting was the fact that he was gay.

And when Blaine came out at school, apparently the only thing they noticed about him 

was that he liked other boys.

So, the only thing running through their minds was the thought of another target.

Another outcast.

Another victim.

Blaine was in 8th grade when it first started. It was before class and his brother had just 

dropped him off, before going to the high school a mile or two away. He walked in the building 

and there were stares and glares shot at him from every direction. He smiled awkwardly at all 

the spectators, not really knowing why they were all looking at him.

Then he looked at his locker.

On a piece of notebook paper, someone had written ‘Fag' in red marker.

Fag.

The word hit him like a thousand bullets.

Fag.

He couldn't breathe.

Blaine. Blaine. Blaine! Breathe!!

Fag.

He couldn't think.

Breathe, damn you, breathe!!!!

Fag.

Fag.

Fag.

Fag.

Fag.

Fag.

Fag.

Blaine sucked in a gulp of air, when he noticed his vision blurring.

Those are tears, you dumbass.

Oh, right.

Blaine rushed to his locker and plucked the paper off of the door and read the word on it, 

one last time.

Fag.

The word glared at him, sitting on its throne in its red robes. He could practically see the 

horse it was sitting on and the nose hairs it had from tilting its head up to the sky.

A rush of rage flooded through him and more tears blurred his vision. He quickly wiped 

them away and crinkled the paper, tossing it in a nearby trashcan. As he threw it away, a group 

of boys snickered at him. They high fived each other and smirked at him.

Blaine's jaw tightened.

Just walk away, Blaine. Just walk away, before you do something you'll regret.

“I've got a question for you meatheads,” He started.

You dumbass.

“Do you get off from making other people hurt? Because that's a pretty serious fetish 

and your future boyfriends should about know it before you try anything,” He spat.

Their smirks faded.

You dumbass. ...

He didn't regret it.

Blaine left school that day with a cut on his lip and a slightly bruised nose. And a few 

other bruises on his body, but no one could see those.

He limped inside the house, a few tears left in his eyes. They had gotten in a few good 

punches, but not before letting the bus leave without him.

And leaving his face all bloodied and bruised.

He didn't regret it.

It just got worse from there.

The locker incident turned into shoves into lockers. Which turned into spitballs, which 

turned into taking his lunch, which turned into dumpster tosses, which turned into punches 

before those tosses.

Which turned into heartache.

One of them lived on his street.

Jason Lasater.

If school was a battlefield, then Jason was the general.

The general who fired most of the bullets.

It was Blaine's birthday and he had gotten a new bike. It was lovely. Candy apple red 

with a glossy finish and whitewall tires. By far the nicest bike Blaine had ever owned in his 14 

years.

He smiled as his dad nodded at him to go ride it around a little. Just take it for a spin.

So, he did.

He rode it up and down the street a few times, reveling in the smoothness it had going 

down the street, in comparison to his old bike. His old bike left an ugly residue from the 

handlebars and with this one, his hands were nice and clean.

Blaine loved that bike.

Everyone could see that.

So could Jason Lasater.

As Blaine rode down the street, Jason was in his front yard, tossing a football around 

with his brother. He glanced over and saw Blaine on his bike. He shot Blaine a smirk and Blaine 

knew what was coming.

“Hey, Homo,” Jason said, as he and his buddies walked down the hallway. Blaine 

cringed as he saw them coming. They blocked his pathway, forcing him to stop. He put on a 

brave face at the thought that bullets were about to come flying his way, aiming right for him.

“What do you want?” He asked, trying not to let his voice quiver.

Jason put on a fake smile. “Listen, buddy, I know we've had our ups and downs, but I 

need you to do me a favor.”

Blaine scoffed. “What makes you think that I'd do you a favor?”

Jason's smile faded and one of his buddies came forward.

Matthew Hayes.

His right hand man.

“Listen, Fag, if you don't do what my man, Jason, says right now we'll beat your ass into 

next week,” He threatened.

Blaine stayed silent.

He knew they were going to, regardless of what he did.

Jason smirked. “That's what I thought,” He said. “Anyhow, my folks are making me get a 

biology tutor and since you're the smartest queer I know, I want you to tutor me,”

Blaine stayed silent.

Everyone's smirk faded. “What?” Jason asked. “Have someone's dick in your throat all 

night that it makes it hard to speak?”

Whoosh.

Hit.

Right in the leg.

Get up, soldier! Now's not the time to falter! You can live without a leg!

Their snickers were cruel.

Whoosh.

Hit.

It was impossible to know how much damage this bullet did.

Breathe, Blaine! Goddamn it, breathe!!!

Blaine took in a slow breath. “Why would I do that?” He asked.

Jason and the others exchanged looks. “Let's just say, you'll be sorry if you don't,” ...

C'mon, Soldier! Now's not the time to let the enemy think you're weak! ...

The bell rang and Blaine walked away silently, ignoring the glares that were being 

etched into his back.

He didn't regret it.

The one happiness Blaine ever had was weekends and holidays. So, you could say that 

Fridays were the best school day of the week for him.

Not this one.

Blaine got off the bus and walked toward his house. He was just happy that Jason had 

gotten rides to and from school everyday.

He let out a small smile. Two days of no school and pure happiness. That was good. It 

was moments like these that made life bearable, for just a little while longer.

He turned onto his street and saw a group of boys gathered around, laughing at 

something by Jason's house.

The house two doors down from his.

The house he would have to walk past.

God.

Soldier, the base is that way! You can't take no detours! You can handle a couple more 

shots!

Blaine walked as quickly as he could in the direction of his house, trying his best not to 

be seen by Jason and his buddies.

“Hey, Fag!” A voice yelled. It was Matthew's.

Blaine kept walking, doing his best to ignore their insults.

“We want you to come look at something!” Matthew continued.

Keep marching, Soldier! The enemy may be taking shots, but they're missing right now. 

Your mission right now is to get back to base!

Get back to base.

Get back to base.

Get back to base.

Breathe.

In.

Hold.

Out.

In.

Hold.

Out.

In.

Hold.

Out.

In.

“Whatever, we just thought you might want your bike back!” Jason yelled.

Blaine stopped and clenched his fists.

Rage boiled up inside him.

The entire group laughed when they saw they had gotten a reaction out of him.

Blaine turned around and gave each and every one of them the death glare. He 

marched toward them. “Give me my bike back,”

They gave it back.

But not before throwing it on the ground.

Hold.

Blaine shuddered at the motion. His poor bike! They needed to give it back!

One of the boys took out a pocket knife and scratched the paint with it, along with 

slashing one of the tires.

Tears welled up in his eyes. The sound of the tire deflating was the worst sound he's 

ever heard.

The whole group laughed and Jason kicked the bike toward Blaine as he and his friends 

walked off. “See you Monday, Fag,” He called to Blaine over his shoulder.

As they went inside Jason's house, the tire was still deflating.

Out.

The garage door was open.

That's how they got in.

His dad saw the bike when he got home.

He wasn't happy.

Blaine explained what happened.

In tears, of course.

His mom showered in hugs

and kisses

and promises that she was going to make it better.

Nothing could make it better.

His parents arranged a meeting with the principal.

First thing Monday morning, they said.

Now, Blaine dreaded Monday more than ever.

Jason was suspended for 3 days.

Blaine was getting a new bike that was being paid for by the Lasaters.

The police almost got involved, but Mr. and Mrs. Lasater quieted that down before 

anything could happen legally.

School wouldn't be a battlefield for 3 days.

A weight lifted off of Blaine's shoulders.

Don't speak too soon, Soldier. It's just a cease fire. No one has retreated yet. ...

At least the bullets would stop.

There was a new kid.

A new kid, who was gay.

His name was Cameron Newport

The irony of the situation was that he wasn't picked on. As a matter of fact, his life 

seemed perfectly fine.

There weren't any locker shoves

dumpster tosses

swirlies

spit balls

not even a mean name or comment.

Blaine didn't know if it was the fact that Cameron was bigger and more threatening than 

he was, but he didn't get picked on at all.

There was also a Sadie Hawkins Dance, right before the holiday break.

Blaine had decided to go out on a limb and invite Cameron to the dance.

He figured, he would be picked on anyway. Why not do it for a reason?

Cameron was a reason.

Cameron was most certainly a reason.

Cameron accepted Blaine's invitation and everyone had undoubtedly heard that they 

were going together.

Everyone, including Jason and his posse.

And when Jason didn't give Blaine his mid morning locker shove or take his lunch later 

that day, Blaine felt instantly frightened.

... Soldier, don't let your guard down! This is just a ceasefire, the war isn't won yet. ...

He didn't regret it.

The whole ordeal ended in tears.

And cuts.

And bruises.

After the dance, they were waiting for Cameron's dad to pick them up when Jason, 

Matthew, and their posse came out of nowhere.

Blaine was hit harder than he could ever remember in his entire life.

Cameron's dad scared them off and tended to the immediate damage, before taking 

Blaine home and speaking to his family.

It was clear, then.

There needed to be another meeting with the principal.

Jason needed to pay for what he's done.

Blaine sobbed into his pillow that night, more than he ever had.

Not from the bruises.

Not from the cuts.

Not from the black eye.

Not from the bloody nose.

From all the bullets,

etched into his soul.

Etched into his being.

Soldier, this has been a decisive battle. All that's left is for one side to retreat.

Blaine retreated.

His and Cameron's parents had a meeting with the principal when school came back in 

secession.

Everyone was sympathetic, but there was no resolution.

There's nothing the school board can do.

I know Blaine and Jason have differences, but they should focus on working through 

those differences peacefully.

Blaine can just avoid Jason in the hallway.

I promise, Mrs. Anderson, I have the finest staff in all of Westerville and if there had 

been any previous altercations on school grounds, I would've known about it.

They essentially called Blaine a liar.

They didn't do anything about Jason.

Luckily, the semester would end within the next couple weeks and Blaine would finally 

be free.

His father had read into this school called Dalton Academy with a zero tolerance bullying 

policy.

Blaine's safe haven.

“I'm sorry all this happened to you, Blaine,” Cooper said softly, standing in the doorway 

of Blaine's room.

Blaine would go off to Dalton the next day, into a world of the unknown. He would move 

into his dorm room and get adjusted to life a little bit, before the new semester began on 

Monday. He wouldn't be that far away from home and just be boarding on the weekdays, but he 

couldn't help but feel sad that he would be away from his family all that time.

Blaine looked up at the voice as he packed.

“I feel like I should've done something,” He continued.

Blaine shrugged. “Thanks, Coop, but there wasn't anything you could've done. I'm the 

gay kid, remember? I basically signed up for this life,” He turned away and tossed a shirt he was 

folding into the nearly packed suitcase.

Cooper shook his head. “No one deserves that kind of shabby treatment. I know you 

think you signed up for it, but you didn't. Because no one deserves it and I want you to 

remember that, Squirt.”

Blaine nodded and turned toward Cooper, thinking for a moment.

Cooper had no idea what it was like.

Feeling left out.

Feeling like an outcast.

Feeling like a victim.

Feeling like he was losing the Battle of Life all the damn time.

“You know how in the cartoons, they see stars?” He asked.

Cooper nodded, raising an eyebrow at Blaine's sudden change of topic.

“Well, when they hit me, I did,”

Winter soon turned to spring, which turned to summer.

Blaine had made a lot of new friends at Dalton.

He had even joined the glee club.

The Warblers, they were called.

He could tell that he would lead a long, happy life at Dalton Academy.

Blaine was away at the Warbler's week long bonding retreat when it happened.

His mother showed him the news article when he got back.

Teenager Dies After Playing with Father's Shotgun

The teenager was Jason.

Blaine read the article five times through before he believed it.

It was nearly three days before, when it happened.

Jason and his cousin were in his garage, messing with his father's shotgun when his 

cousin accidentally pulled the trigger.

And blew a hole in Jason's chest, the size of Blaine's fist.

The whole family was distraught with grief.

The whole neighborhood was in shock at the horrors that unfolded.

The whole community was heartbroken at the thought of something like that happening.

In Westerville, Ohio.

Where nothing went wrong.

Everyone, except Blaine.

His mother said he should've gone to the funeral.

He was his former classmate and his pier, at the very least.

Apparently, the majority of the school would make an appearance at Jason's funeral.

But Blaine didn't.

He didn't regret it.

He hated Jason.

He made his life hell for a year and some.

He didn't feel bad for him.

He didn't really feel bad for his family.

He felt bad that they had such a horrible son.

Blaine wished he could've said he was sorry Jason was dead.

Instead, he felt guilty.

Guilty more than anything.

That winter night that he had gone home, broken and bruised, he sobbed into his pillow.

He sobbed for so long that his family had gone to bed and he had tired himself out.

He lost track of time and when he looked up, it was nearing 2 in the morning.

Blaine rubbed the tears from his eyes and made a wish.

He wished with all his heart

All his mind

All his body

All his soul.

And he felt guilty that the wish, the wish he had made that cold, winter night

Came true.