It Gets Better - Chapter 1

Kurt's PoV

I really thought I could do it. I mean, going to Nationals—spending time in New York, singing on a real Broadway stage—I was sure I could power through the rest. I'd been sure I could jump right back to the way I so easily brushed off the Neanderthal behavior because they were all so far below me…
I don't think I ever imagined it would get worse. That it could, even.
But it did. At first, they'd calmed down. Then there was prom, and that was horrifying on its own, but subtle, most of the school and not a few choice jocks. Then the catastrophe at Nationals happened, and somehow—my suspicions were directed toward a few certain cheerleaders and their coach—the whole story had gotten out. If there was ever such a thing as a blacklist on the high school popularity charts, we were definitely at the top.
But I digress. These bullies—as I said, just a few, always the same ones—looked for any chance to push me around and into lockers, knock books out of my arms… let alone their old favorite pastime of tossing me into the dumpster whenever they could corner me there. But the physicality of it wasn't as bad as the rest, as whispered words, anonymous text messages (and I didn't even know how they got my number), private messages on Facebook started to appear.
Fag.
Lady.
You deserve to die, freak.
Glee club was barely a sanctuary anymore. I couldn't tell anyone anything. Not Finn, not Mr. Shue, not even Mercedes… and definitely not Blaine, who was still at Dalton. It seemed like I had gone back in time—except for dating Blaine, of course…. but this time around, I was a lot better at hiding it.
The bullies came up with a new routine of waiting outside the school for me to show up, catching me every morning before class started. They were getting smarter, sneakier about where they hit and kicked me. All of the bruises appeared in places I didn't dare show… Death threats started again as well, and not just for me—for my "fag pansy of a boyfriend" too. I had this horrible feeling that they'd go after Blaine if I told anyone the truth. They'd probably go after him, anyway, if they saw him. It was my fault for taking him to prom, giving them another target for their hatred.
I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't give them Blaine.
So I stayed quiet.
I'd been trying to figure out what to do, realizing I was already late to class and in too much pain to really care anymore. I was dirty from that morning's beating, a rip in my pants and a new gash in my leg. I didn't even bother trying to hide it. Who would look at my legs anyway?
"Hey Kurt!"
I nearly jumped out of my skin, sure for a moment that the bullies had decided to extend their time with me… but then I remembered that none of them ever called me Kurt. I turned around to see Noah Puckerman running up to me.
I barely had time to even wonder what the hell he was doing before he spoke again. "Ya late again?" What was this? Concern? No way. "Is everything okay?"
I sighed. "Do you need something, Noah? Because if I didn't know you, it'd look like you actually care…" Yes, I knew I was being rude and maybe, maybe there was a small chance that he was actually being nice for a change, but I wasn't willing to bet on it. I still remembered all the times he'd been one of the bullies throwing me into the dumpster like I was trash.
"Don't flatter yourself, Hummel." Well, at least I read him right. "I just wanted you to tell me if anyone needed some 'Puckster-talk.'"
… Puckster-talk? "Eh… not really, I just…" I searched for an excuse, any excuse to use, not that he cared… though I did wonder why he was asking. "… forgot my phone in the car, and…"
"Is that where you tore your pants?" He raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"I… stumbled…" I mumbled, knowing he was seeing through the façade I'd built up so high—or so I thought—since the bullying had started up again.
"… Got your coat dirty and hit your head too, sure." Puck snorted.
"Yes, it was a misfortune," I said, my tone getting defensive. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out. "Everything's oka—"
I cut off, staring at my phone at the message—once again, anonymous so I had no idea where it came from… I shuddered. Accompanying a picture of me in the dumpster—from the day before, judging by my outfit—were two texts: looky! and ready to die, fag?
I barely heard Puck's "reasoning" that he was trying to tell me, unable to look away from my phone… until he started to shout. "Holy shit! What the fuck?! Kurt, tell me it's not your locker! … Is it?"
I looked up, blushing and putting my phone away. There, in bright red paint… FAG. For an accent, there was a smaller word, die, also painted on cruelly.
"Um… yeah… It is," I muttered, quickly moving away from him. "But it's none of your business!"
"What the hell, Hummel?!" Puck shouted after me. I didn't look back. I can't imagine he could have, or would have, helped me. He didn't know what it was like. This was beyond bullying. The Neanderthals were becoming more advanced, more powerful. I couldn't subject Blaine to this. To them.
I had to protect him.
I had to force out of my head all thought of trying to get him to transfer to McKinley. As I made my way outside, I pulled out my phone again. Blaine… I'm sorry. We can't be together anymore. I closed my eyes as my finger settled on the send button. Would I do it? Could I?
I pressed the button, wiping away the tears that escaped. It had to happen. I loved him. I loved him much too much and I couldn't keep him in danger like that.
"Kurt? Are you crying?"
I opened my eyes, pausing as I saw Brittany. "Oh… Hey Brittany. No, I'm not crying… it's this damn near-summer weather giving me allergies."
"Is something wrong? Your face…"
"It's nothing," I muttered, looking down when my phone vibrated. It was Blaine.
Kurt, what are you talking about? What happened?
I shuddered. "Look, Brittany, if Blaine comes around, promise me you won't tell him I went home. It's really important and I just want to be alone right now."
"I promise…" She blinked. "But…" She trailed off, staring at something over my shoulder. I turned around to see three of the usual bullies that harassed me. Without a second thought, I took off. My phone vibrated again and I looked down as I burst through the doors of the school.
Kurt? Please answer me! Are you alright? Did something happen to you? I'm coming to talk to you. You're at school, right?
More tears escaped, but I kept running. They chased me out towards the dumpsters. Luckily, I'd parked close enough to them—I'd planned this just last night, taking new clothes for when I needed to change out of the garbage-smelling ones. I tried to run faster, hoping that I could at least find some sanctuary in my car… and maybe run over them…
My phone slipped out of my hand and fell. I heard it shatter and left it. I didn't have time, and it was useless now anyway.
The few seconds it took me to open my car door gave the bullies time to catch up, and one grabbed me by the coat as I tried to scramble inside. When I heard the fabric rip—my new Alexander McQueen Asymmetrical jacket!—I couldn't help the reaction I had. My legs had a mind of their own, flailing out and just so happening to nail him right in the crotch. The resulting groan of pain gave me some grim satisfaction and I escaped into my mini-sanctuary, locking all the doors.
I pulled my keys out of my pocket and scrambled to start the car, afraid they would start breaking windows. I pulled out of the parking space quickly, making the bullies jump away in surprise and shock. I sped away, still afraid they would try to hurt this one small place I could escape them… physically, at least.
I started to catch my breath when I got out of the parking lot, tears falling faster and more freely now. How long would I be able to handle this? How long did they expect me to last? I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of scaring me away again… but something was going to give, and soon. I could feel it in my brain, in every one of my thoughts.
I closed my eyes and shuddered at a certain thought that came up in my mind, pushing it away and heading home. With all the things I was capable of, that thought…
I couldn't possibly commit suicide. Killing myself would only show a final weakness.
But as I drove, I couldn't help but think… Would it?