a/n: This is based off of the 2007 movie (and book of the same name) Boy A. This is definitely one of the darkest things I've written, and there are warnings for just about everything - rape, language, suicide, murder, violence, bullying, underage drinking, etc. So stay away if any of that will trigger you. Frequently when I write a fanfic, I read it over once as I'm editing it for publishing, and never again. I have already read this more times than I can count because I'm nervous about the content - I've seen more graphic fics, but I've never really written something so ... sensitive. So do take my warnings seriously, please.
I'm not trying to send any sort of message with this fic. I do not condone any sort of criminal activity, and I realize that this might seem sympathetic to it. This also suggests the idea of rehabilitation. That's merely a factor of the perspective this was written in. I don't want to give any opinions on the topic, so I'll end this here.
Set during season 3 of Glee.
Glee belongs to Ryan Murphy/Fox, Boy A belongs to Christopher Trigell/Mark O'Rowe
(some of the dialogue is taken directly/paraphrased from Boy A, and the plot follows the movie very closely, intertwined with Glee stuff. I wrote it all very quickly as I was watching the movie, and then rewrote it afterwards over the course of a few months. However, there are quite a few deviations where I chose to interpret it differently to make it work better in the context of Glee and to make myself more comfortable.)
"They said I get to choose my name."
"Yeah, that's right," Chris said. He looked down at the 17 year old boy before him. The boy looked so excited, so hopeful. It was hard to believe that he was the same boy from five years earlier.
"I can't decide," the boy mused slowly. "I just – I can't! I mean, I can be anyone!"
"Well, there's a few other things we have to consider too, so you can take your time with that."
The boy nodded.
"Now, we need to discuss your history, make sure that you know the information that we'll be telling your school -"
"Blaine."
"What?"
"Blaine. I want that to be my name. Like Pretty in Pink. My mom - she used to like that movie."
"Alright...Blaine. That's one thing off the list."
Blaine followed Chris up the narrow sidewalk to a worn, tired front door. He was swiveling his head around in all directions to soak up the scenery of his new home. It didn't look like anything too special, but that was probably for the best.
"Hi, you must be Chris," a woman said when she opened the door. "I'm Carole," she said, warmly proffering a hand for Chris to shake.
"This is my nephew Blaine. He just moved here," Chris said. "Thanks so much for taking him in. I really wish he could live with me in Columbus, but I just travel so much for work."
"Understandable. Hi there Blaine, I'm Carole Hudson. It's nice to meet you." She yawned. "Sorry, I've been working the night shift at the hospital for the past week, so I only just got up."
Blaine smiled slightly and looked at his shoes.
"Come on in," she said. "Your room is upstairs. It's not very big, but it's nice. The bathroom's across the hall from it. There's not much in it - just a bed, a closet, and a dresser - but you can add your own flair to it when you get more settled in, okay? My son Finn goes to the same school as you – he's a year ahead of you, a senior. He'll probably be back from school in a little while."
Blaine nodded silently, taking in all the information she'd just loaded on to him, and moved his duffel bag between his hands.
"Is that all you have?" Carole asked.
"I pack light," Blaine said.
"Well, I've got to head out," Chris said. "Nice to meet you, Carole, and thanks so much for helping us out. I'll talk to you soon, okay, Blaine?"
Blaine nodded. "Bye Uncle Chris." The word felt strange as it fell from Blaine's lips, yet at the same time, perfect. Chris had treated Blaine like family since they'd met. Hell, he'd treated Blaine better than his own family had.
Carole led Blaine up to his room and began talking to him about school. "Chris told me that you're all registered for school when he had called about the room, so you'll be starting McKinley on Monday, right? Finn can show you around if you want."
"Thanks," Blaine muttered quietly.
"I'm going to head back downstairs. Make yourself at home here. Dinner will be around 6. Do you like pork chops?"
Devon Miller walked into his house as quietly as he could manage. He father, somehow, still heard the creak of the floorboards.
"Devon! Is that you?"
"Yeah," the boy said quietly.
He could smell the alcohol mixed with stale cigarette smoke from five feet away.
"You're late."
"Sorry."
"Don't talk back to me, kid!"
"Sorry. Uh - Where's mom?"
"She's upstairs."
"She better?"
"No."
"No?"
"What'd I just say, kid?"
"Sorry."
Devon walked up the stairs and pushed open his parents' door. "Mom?"
"Go away!" the woman called from her bed.
"Are you okay, mom?"
"I said leave me alone. I'm sleeping!"
"I – I miss you, mommy-"
"Get out!"
On Saturday, Chris took Blaine out to lunch at Breadstix, Lima's only good restaurant.
"What are you doing for the rest of the weekend?" Chris asked.
"I … I don't know. What can I do?" Blaine asked.
"Whatever you want."
Blaine's mouth fell slightly open. "It's still hard to wrap my head around the fact that I'm not... Anyway. Can – could I maybe … travel?"
"Travel? Where?"
"Could I see Hunter's grave?"
Chris started.
"Right, no, I get it. Pennsylvania's pretty far..."
"I have to think about this, Blaine. But maybe we'll be able to go later, if ..."
"If I behave?"
Chris chuckled. "Yeah. If you behave."
"Mr. Miller!"
The boy's head turned from the window so quickly he could have gotten whiplash.
"Where is your workbook?" the teacher asked.
"I – uh – I don't have it," the curly haired boy answered.
"And your homework?"
The boy shook his head.
Bright and early Monday morning found Blaine sitting at the small kitchen table with Finn and Carole. Finn was talking non-stop about teachers to avoid and who to suck up to for the best grades, but Blaine barely paid attention as he studied his soggy bowl of cereal.
It had been so many years since he'd been in a proper classroom.
Eventually, it was time to go, so Blaine followed Finn to his car and they silently drove towards the school. He followed Finn through the busy halls and into the main office to pick up his schedule from the principal once they arrived.
"Mr. Anderson," Principal Figgins said, looking up from Blaine's file. "You spent time in juvenile detention?"
Blaine flushed, feeling Finn's shocked gaze on the back of his head. "Yeah."
"I won't tolerate any mischief here, but I want to assure you that I will keep this information private so you can have a clean slate."
"Thank you, sir."
~B~A~
Finn followed Blaine out of the office. "So, juvie?" he asked conversationally.
"Yeah."
"What were you in for?"
"Shoplifting," Blaine said, remembering the words from the new history that Chris had prepared for him.
"How long?"
"A while."
"My friend Puck was in for six weeks last year, but he's still a pretty solid dude. Don't worry, I won't spread it around, though. Anyway, that was Figgins. He's a complete pushover and this school is kinda a joke, but it's not all bad."
Blaine grinned, glad that Finn seemed to not care about his past. "Thanks man."
Classes were just as boring as Blaine expected. He sat alone at lunch, spying Finn across the cafeteria, but deciding not to approach the older boy and his friends.
After school, he went to find Finn to get his ride home.
"Sorry, man, I completely forgot to tell you – I have glee club until 4."
"Glee club?" Blaine asked dubiously.
"Yeah. I know it sounds lame, but it's pretty cool. You can come if you want."
"I guess. I mean, I've got nowhere else to be."
Blaine followed Finn into a room filled with a dozen teenagers and one teacher. "Hey guys," Finn said. "This is Blaine. He's renting out the extra room in my house for a while and just started here. He's gonna watch today."
Blaine nodded at the gathered students before taking a chair to the side and watching.
Devon was walking home from school when he felt something hit the back of his pack. He tried to ignore it, but soon two more hits came. Finally, he turned around to see a group of older boys laughing and collecting more small stones to throw.
"Hey faggot!" one of them called.
"Leave me alone," Devon called back, voice small and broken.
"Aw, what was that? I couldn't hear you, freak!"
"Please," he pleaded quietly.
"Aw, are you gonna go running home to mommy and daddy and big brother? Oh wait - no one cares about you!"
Devon turned and ran away, hearing their laughs and taunts echo behind him the entire way home.
He ignored the tears that leaked out of the corners of his eyes. He silenced the voice in his head that repeated two words over and over with each pounding step he took.
They're right. They're right. They're right.
"So where'd you move from?" Puck asked Blaine at lunch the next day. The New Directions had all been overly friendly after meeting him at glee club, insisting on escorting Blaine through the unfamiliar halls and sitting with him at lunch. It was unsettling, but nice.
"Uh... just outside Philly," Blaine said.
Puck nodded. "Why? I mean, Lima's kinda a huge step down from the city."
"My father and I don't get along, so I decided to move in with my Uncle Chris. He lives in Columbus and works all the time, and McKinley was the only school accepting transfers, so he rented a room for me with Finn and Carole," Blaine said, really glad he'd decided to reread his history again last night.
"Man, I get it. My father sucked. Left me and my mom and my sister ages ago. What'd your old man do?"
"Not much. Just sat around on his ass all day, mostly. Pushed me around a bit, so I decided to split."
That wasn't even a lie.
"Why?"
Blaine looked away.
"Sorry, man, I get that that's personal, I'm just curious," Puck said.
"No, it's fine. He doesn't like that I'm gay."
That was only half of it, but true enough.
"Oh."
"What?" Blaine asked, suddenly fearful.
"Nothing, I just didn't expect it. You should totally get with my man Hummel over there," Puck said, indicating a fashionably dressed boy sitting on the other side of the table. "He plays for your team, too."
Blaine hesitated, and Finn cut in.
"Dude, Kurt's practically my brother!"
"So? You like Blaine, right?"
"Yeah, but still..." Finn said, trailing off. Noticing Blaine's confused expression, Finn elaborated. "Kurt's dad and my mom have been dating for a while. I keep expecting them to get married soon."
"Anyway, are you coming to glee again today?" Puck asked.
"I dunno," Blaine answered. In truth, he had really enjoyed it. He just didn't know how close he wanted to get to people.
"You totally should!" Finn encouraged. "You don't even have to sing much. Or at all if that's not your thing."
"Sure," Blaine agreed.
~B~A~
Blaine sang a song that he half remembered from when he was 12 and was immediately accepted as a member of the New Directions. He didn't want to admit it, but dancing around and singing, throwing all inhibitions to the wind, was really fun.
He'd never felt so included in his life. He'd never felt so free.
Finn, his girlfriend, Rachel, and Kurt – the same Kurt that Puck had pointed out to Blaine at lunch – apparently had a tradition of going to get coffee at the Lima Bean after some glee rehearsals. Since Blaine was now with Finn, he went along as well.
"What kind of coffee do you want?" Finn asked when they got up to the counter.
"Uh..." Blaine stuttered. "I don't know. I've never had coffee before."
"Dude, I'm the same. I didn't start drinking coffee until Rachel and I started dating. You kinda need the caffeine to keep up with what she's saying. I still only drink the stuff that's mostly milk and sugar, though."
Blaine grinned. "I guess I'll trust your judgement and get whatever you're having."
They took a seat at the table with Rachel and Kurt who were deep in conversation about sectionals song choices and solos.
Blaine sat back and observed the people around him while Finn joined the conversation. He was still getting used to normal interaction. It had been such a long time.
Devon sat in the woods behind his school. He was supposed to be in class right now, but he couldn't stand to be surrounded by kids who made fun of him and teachers who pitied him.
There was a rustling in the bushes, and he quickly jumped to his feet and assumed a protective stance. A boy about his age stumbled out of the trees with a grin spread across his features.
"What're you doing here?" Devon asked.
"Depends."
"On what?"
"You."
Devon just looked confused.
"I'm Hunter," the boy finally said, holding out his hand.
"Devon."
"Nice to meet you. Shouldn't you be in school?"
"Shouldn't you?"
"Good point."
From that day on, Devon and Hunter did everything together. They became partners in crime in every way, whether it was robbing the convenience store or beating up the kids that had bullied Devon.
Blaine was talking with Finn and Puck at lunch again. Well, the two other boys were doing most of the talking. He kept stealing glances at Kurt before looking back down at his sandwich. Puck finally noticed.
"Dude, if you like him, just ask him out."
"What?" Blaine asked. "Who?"
"Don't fuck around, man, I know you've got the hots for Hummel," Puck said. "Just ask him out. He's probably desperate for any man action."
"Dude, I told you, Kurt's like my brother, don't talk about him like that," Finn cut in.
"Whatever. Anyway, Kurt's like the only other gay kid here, so he'd totally go for you."
"Because he has no other option?" Blaine asked.
"Well, yeah, but like, you're pretty attractive for a dude."
"Thanks, Puck," Blaine laughed. "I think."
~B~A~
In glee club that afternoon, Blaine decided to take Puck's advice. He walked to the front of the room and looked around expectantly. He used to hate it when people looked at him - they were always judging him, looking at him like a speck of dirt or an animal at the zoo. But this kind of attention was something that he could get used to.
With Finn on drums and Puck on guitar, Blaine began to sing. It was a soft song, but hopeful and beautiful - just how Blaine thought of Kurt. He sang the whole thing to the older boy, who blushed furiously from his seat.
When the club let out, Blaine walked with Kurt to his locker.
"I was singing to you, you know," Blaine said nervously.
"I noticed," Kurt said, avoiding eye contact.
"I was wondering if you'd maybe like to go out with me sometime?" Blaine said before he could lose his nerve.
"Sure."
"I mean, I get that we don't know each other really well, but you're, like, one of the most attractive guys I've ever met and - wait, did you say yes?" Blaine rambled.
Kurt looked like he was trying to hold in his laughter. "Yeah. I did. But thanks for the other stuff you said, too."
Now it was Blaine's turn to blush.
"How does Saturday work for you?"
"S-saturday?" Blaine asked. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm free."
"Perfect. I'll see you then."
A few months after they met, Devon and Hunter were lying on their backs in the woods.
"Have you ever had sex?" Hunter asked.
"Ew, no!" Devon said. "I've never even kissed anyone! Have you?"
Hunter nodded, face sour. "He just comes into my room, and even when I say no, he just tells me to shut it and stop crying. I try to picture something else, anything else just to stop thinking about him, but he never stops. He never goes away, and I have to see him every day. I hate it. I hate him."
"Does it … does it hurt?"
"What do you think?" Hunter asked roughly. His voice sounded close to tears.
"I'm sorry."
There was a long pause before Devon began to speak again.
"My dad hates me. I know it."
"Better than my dad."
"He beats me. Or ignores me. I can't decide which I like better. Mom just ignores us both and sleeps all day. And my brother ran out on us all as soon as he could."
"God, we're a screwy pair, aren't we?"
The morning of Blaine's date with Kurt, he opened the newspaper to see his face, five years younger, staring up at him.
EVIL COMES OF AGE, the headline read.
Just a few weeks ago, Devon Miller reached the end of his sentence for the assault and murder of 13 year old Hannah Elgreen in Philadelphia back in 2007. His partner, Hunter Clarington, who received a longer sentence for more severe crimes, hung himself three years ago while in a secure juvenile facility in Pennsylvania. Is it wise to release such a violent young man back into the public?
Blaine stopped himself from reading any further.
Next to the headshot of him from back then was also a digital progression of what he might look like now. He was glad that there were a few details that were missed. His curly hair was long now, nothing like the cropped cut in the photo. His face had thinned a bit, but wasn't as long as the progression. In all, it looked like a brother or cousin, but not him. Still, Blaine carefully slipped the page out of the paper and hid it under his mattress.
~B~A~
He tried to ignore the nagging sensation that the newspaper article inspired as he walked to Kurt's house. Kurt was going to drive them on the date since Blaine had never received his license, and probably never would, but Kurt's father apparently wanted to meet Blaine.
"Hi," Kurt said nervously when he opened the door for Blaine.
"Hey," he breathed.
"My dad's just over here, come on, I'll introduce you and then we can go."
Blaine followed Kurt into the kitchen and was a bit surprised when he saw Kurt's father. Somehow he had not been expecting this man who looked so ... masculine to be as supportive of Kurt as he was.
"Hello sir," Blaine said, remembering his manners just in time. "I'm Blaine Anderson."
The man gave him a searching look, then took Blaine's hand. "Burt Hummel. So, you just moved here?"
"Yes, from Pennsylvania."
"Why?"
"My father doesn't exactly want me around him."
Thankfully Burt didn't pursue the topic.
"You ever been in trouble, kid?"
Blaine's breath caught in his throat. "Y-yes," he whispered, looking down at his feet.
Kurt seemed surprised, but Burt wasn't. Carole had probably told him all about Blaine already.
"What sort of trouble?"
"I, uh, I was in juvie for a while. Shoplifting."
"And?"
"And what? I swear, I don't plan to return," Blaine said, scared now that Kurt's father was going to kick him out.
"Alright."
"Really?" Kurt asked.
"What, do you want me to tell you that you can't go on a date with him?" Burt asked Kurt, a small smile dancing on the corners of his mouth.
"No, of course not. I'm just – surprised."
"I let you hang around the Puckerman kid, and he seems a lot harder than Blaine," Burt pointed out.
"Thank you, sir," Blaine said sincerely. "I promise that I won't do anything to mess this up."
"I'll hold you to that, kid."
~B~A~
The date was perfect in Blaine's eyes. Of course, he had never been on a date before, so he had nothing to compare it to. They went out to a movie and then had coffee afterwards and talked for hours. It was dark out when Kurt finally dropped Blaine off at Finn's.
"Blaine, I hate to bring this up, but you meant what you told my dad, right?" Kurt said hesitantly.
"What?"
"About – about never going back to juvie?"
"Of course. I never, ever want to be back there," Blaine promised.
"Good. I just – wanted to make sure. Because I really like you, Blaine. But I don't know if I could deal with you trying to be a badass or whatever."
"I really like you, too, Kurt. And I would never do anything to mess this up."
Blaine leaned forward, hoping that he was reading Kurt correctly. The older boy leaned in as well, so Blaine smiled slightly as he closed the gap between their lips.
"Goodnight, Kurt," he whispered as he slid out of the car.
Devon and Hunter tromped through the woods as they made their way to their usual place. Hunter had a cigarette in his hand, but Devon had refused to even pick one up, too afraid that he'd end up like his father. "Suit yourself," Hunter had said before lighting up.
They messed around in the woods for a while - climbing trees, throwing pinecones, carving their initials in the bark – when Hunter found the bird.
It was a young robin and had likely fallen from one of the trees and broken its wings.
"Is it dead?" Devon asked carefully.
"Not yet," Hunter said as he grinned.
He picked up a medium sized rock from the clearing and brought it smashing down on the robin's twitching body one, two, three times until it became still.
There was a three day weekend off of school, so Chris picked Blaine up and announced that they were traveling back to Pennsylvania.
"Really?" Blaine asked.
"Really. I don't think I should be doing this, but it's what you want and I think it'd be good for you."
Blaine stood in front of the gravestone, eyes misting as he took in the words. Hunter Clarington. 1994-2010. No inscription on the small headstone calling him a beloved son or caring friend. There were no flowers by his grave, and the grass was wild, as if no one had ever come to see him. No one ever had, most likely. He was lost, forgotten, unloved.
"Did he really kill himself?" Blaine asked.
"Blaine -"
"No! Did he really do it?"
"Yes."
"You swear?"
"Yes, Blaine, I swear to you. He couldn't handle what he did. He couldn't heal and become stronger and become a better person. He couldn't take it. But you could. You did."
"Did I?"
"Yes, Blaine. Because you made it through. You realized the error of your ways – I saw that in you from the first time I met you, way back then. You are no longer the boy you were in 2007 - that boy is dead. You are Blaine Anderson, and Blaine Anderson is without guilt and a good person."
Devon and Hunter were skipping school - again. Devon wasn't really sure of the last time he'd even been to a full day of classes, but no one really seemed to miss him, least of all his parents.
They spent the day, like so many others, messing around and playing games. Although both boys had been forced to grow up much too quickly, they still enjoyed the same things that other 11 and 12 year olds did.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Devon asked musingly.
"I dunno. Out of here, I guess."
"I'm serious, Hunt. Don't you want to do something with your life?"
Hunter stopped to think seriously for a while before looking up at his friend. "Alright. But you have to promise not to laugh."
"I promise." Devon crossed his heart.
"I wanna ... I wanna be able to help kids - kids who have shit dads like me. I wanna finally stand up to him."
"Wow," Devon whispered reverentially. "That's so cool."
"What about you?" Hunter asked, eager to shift the focus off of him. He was rarely so honest with himself or anyone else.
"I don't know. I want my family back like how we used to be. Before dad started drinking and mom got depressed and Jay ran off. I kinda - you better not laugh either - but I kinda want to act or sing or something. It just seems so cool to just escape and be someone else for a while."
"Yeah," Hunter agreed wistfully.
When Chris dropped Blaine off at the Hudson's house, it was dinner time on Sunday evening. He quickly fixed himself a plate of sloppy joes and carrots before joining Carole and Finn in front of the TV in the living room.
"How was your weekend, honey?" Carole asked.
"Okay, I guess. Tough, being back there and seeing – an old friend," Blaine said.
"I'm sure. But you seem to be adjusting nicely here."
"I am."
A silence fell and three pairs of eyes flitted back to the TV where the news reporter was droning on about Ohio's Congressional race. The report ended, and Rod Remington's face appeared on screen.
"Last night, a 16-year-old boy was attacked in a Philadelphia suburb and severely beaten. Authorities have apprehended the assailants, who claim that it was because the boy bears a striking resemblance to digital age progression photos of child murderer Devon Miller that were recently released. Many people seem to be rallying behind the assailants, claiming that they want justice and revenge on the surviving boy responsible for the murder of 13 year old Hannah Elgreen in 2007. This attack has prompted police agencies to question whether such photos should be released to the public."
Blaine's appetite disappeared as he saw the images, first of him as a child, then of a boy who looked vaguely like him – but bloodied and beaten, flashed on the screen.
"That's awful," Carole commented. "They should have kept that boy locked up for what he and his friend did to that poor little girl."
"Didn't the other kid kill himself?" Finn asked vaguely. "He should have done the same thing, saved us all a lot of time and worry."
As soon as possible without seeming rude, Blaine fled the room. He found himself emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet outside his bedroom late into the night.
Devon and Hunter met up in the early afternoon, both having attended morning classes.
"How have things been with your dad?" Devon asked nervously.
"Good. Well, not bad, at least. He hasn't been around enough to do anything. What about your old man?"
"I just wanna know why he hates me," Devon admitted. "Then I think I'd be okay with him hitting me and screaming at me all the time."
"Do you ever think about running away?"
"All the time. Especially right after Jay ran out last year. I wanted to go with him."
"Same. Sometimes I think I should just get out of there and away from my old man and save myself, but then... he's still my father, even if he is awful at it."
Blaine started sitting next to Kurt at lunch, holding his hand in the halls, and dueting with him in glee club. This prompted Puck to start making lewd, suggestive comments whenever Kurt turned away, and Blaine had to work to keep the flush from rising.
They went out every weekend and most days after school, as well. Blaine couldn't stop gushing to Chris about his new relationship.
"Blaine, I'm really happy for you. I'm so proud of how well you're adjusting and adapting. You deserve this."
Blaine wasn't totally convinced, but he was happy with his life, so he didn't question it.
When sectionals rolled around, Blaine was shocked at how easily he had fallen into this new life. Not six months ago, he would never have imagined himself with a boyfriend, singing and dancing on a stage in front of hundreds of people, and happy.
But he was. He was happy with how his life was moving.
He was doing well in school, he had plenty of friends, a gorgeous boyfriend, two loving pseudo-families, and no one to impress except himself.
No one was shooting him a dirty look just for being alive.
Right before Christmas, Kurt and Blaine exchanged gifts.
Blaine gasped when he opened the leather wallet from Kurt.
"I always wince a little when I see that crappy plastic thing you use," Kurt said in explanation. "I hope you like it."
"Kurt, I love it," Blaine said sincerely before passing over his gift for Kurt.
He had spent a lot of time figuring out what to get Kurt. He finally settled on a simple antique silver ring he found at the thrift shop in downtown Lima.
"Blaine," Kurt breathed when he saw it. "What is this?"
"It's a promise ring, Kurt," Blaine began. "I promise to always be there for you and always answer your call. I promise to compliment you and shower you with gifts and laugh at all your jokes. I'm yours, Kurt."
"This is ... amazing, Blaine," Kurt said. Even though they were in a crowded school hallway, Kurt leaned into Blaine and kissed him.
Blaine kissed back with all his heart, because he was pretty sure he was falling in love with this man.
Devon and Hunter fell into a pattern. They very rarely went to school, opting instead to meet in the woods to mess around. Hunter taught Devon how to use his knife and how to shoplift. Devon snuck Hunter into his house most nights so Hunter wouldn't have to go home and face his father.
~D~M~
One week, Devon didn't show up in the clearing at all. Hunter had to spend the entire week sleeping at his house, in a constant state of fear. He was about to really shout at Devon for that when the boy finally returned. But something about Devon stopped him.
"What's up?" Hunter asked.
"My mom. She left us. She just walked out the other day."
Hunter hugged Devon tightly as his friend sobbed. When Devon was all done crying, Hunter smiled wickedly.
"Wanna go make someone hurt as bad as you right now?"
"Hunt..."
"I'm serious, Dev. It'll be someone who deserves it, one of those assholes who beats you up at school all the time. And it will make you feel loads better."
On their way to a date in a neighboring town just after New Year's, Blaine caught a flash of something in the woods.
"Kurt!" he called. "Pull over!"
"What is it?" Kurt asked, immediately doing as Blaine asked.
Blaine was already out of the car before he could answer Kurt, running back twenty feet. Just past the road, in a lightly wooded area, a car was wrapped around a tree and smoke was pouring from the engine.
"Shit!" Blaine called, running straight to it.
"Oh my God!" Kurt screamed when he saw it. "Are there people in there?"
"I can't – oh my God! Kurt, help me get the door!"
After a good deal of pulling and maneuvering, Blaine and Kurt managed to pry the bent door open. Without a second thought, Blaine scrambled into the back seat and hovered over the small girl who was slumped there.
"Hello?" he said quietly, tapping her face. He reached for her neck, and felt the lightest pulse there.
"Kurt! She's alive! Call an ambulance!"
Blaine untangled the girl – probably no older than 6 – from the seat belt and carried her out of the car. The movement seemed to rouse her, and she blinked her eyes at Blaine.
"Shh, you're okay, I've got you," he soothed. "Check the front seat!" he called to Kurt.
Kurt looked in the window and sucked in a sharp breath. There was a woman lying over the steering wheel, blood matted in her blonde hair. The sight made him slightly sick, as he remembered how his own mother had looked after her accident.
"She's - I think - oh, God," Kurt whispered.
"What?"
"Blaine, I think she's dead!"
Both boys felt a bit of kinship with the young girl who had most likely just lost her mother, as they thought back on their own deceased or absent mothers.
Minutes later, the police and ambulance arrived, taking the girl off of Blaine's hands. He and Kurt both gave their statements to the police before getting back into Kurt's car and driving slowly back to Lima, date forgotten.
~B~A~
"What happened?" Burt demanded, spotting the blood on Blaine's shirt as Kurt and Blaine walked through the front door.
"There was an accident," Kurt said faintly.
"You -"
"No, another car. Lost control on a patch of ice on the road, crashed into a tree," Blaine supplied before Burt got himself worked up.
"Blaine was amazing," Kurt gushed. "He ran right over and got the car open, and there was this little girl – he probably saved her life!"
~B~A~
A few days later, a reporter came to McKinley and asked to take pictures of Kurt and Blaine for a newspaper article they were doing on the accident. Blaine tried his hardest to refuse, citing that he was camera shy, but Kurt insisted. He angled his head downwards and tried hiding as best he could from the camera.
He couldn't, however, hide from Jacob Ben Israel, McKinley's gossip blogger. He had some strange fascination with the glee club relationships and also with the mysterious new kid. He was persistent, which Blaine did admire, but also incredibly annoying.
Devon followed Hunter out of the clearing.
"I'm sure we can find some of those guys who beat on you at school," Hunter commented lightly, playing with his knife.
"Hunt... we're not going to really hurt them, are we?"
"No way, man, this is just for show. We'll scare them a little, rough 'em up, and be on our way. You'll feel loads better after, I promise."
Soon enough, they found a group of seventh grade boys that liked to gang up on Devon when he was alone.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the little spaz. And lookie here, he's found himself a freaky friend, too!" one of the boys said.
"I wouldn't say things like that if I were you," Hunter growled.
"Oh, wow, I'm so scared," the boy said, holding up his hands and laughing to his friends. Instead of backing off, he walked up to Devon and shoved him backwards. "What's wrong, faggot? Are you just going to sit here like a pussy and let your friend fight for you?"
"Lay off him," Hunter threatened.
"I don't really want to."
"Fine."
In a flash of movement, Hunter pulled back his fist and let it collide with the underside of the boy's nose. There was a sickening crack as it broke and he was blinded by the heavy flow of blood.
"What the hell!" he shouted, as his friends closed in on Hunter and Devon.
Hunter took the lead and began kicking, punching, and shoving every body that came near him. Soon enough, Devon joined in, too. When the older boys were bruised and backing off, Hunter pulled out his knife and lazily flicked it open.
"Don't mess with me or my friend again, or you'll wish that you'd never been born."
After glee on Friday, Puck invited Blaine to go partying with him and few of his other buddies.
"Sure," Blaine said, not caring who was going or what they were doing. He relished the opportunity to let go for an evening, especially after the stressful weeks he had been having since the accident.
"We're going to Vern's Tavern one town over. They don't ID there, so it's a party."
~B~A~
Puck picked him up a little after 8 and narrated various drunken escapades on the way there.
"What about you, man? You've got to have some crazy stories," Puck said.
"Not really. I mean, I've never actually drank before."
"What? Tell me you're shitting me."
"Nope."
"Dude, you are weird. You're like super masculine, but you're also super gay, and like you've been to juvie but you're like the most squeaky clean guy I know."
"I was in juvie, man, they didn't exactly give us free range of the liquor cabinets," Blaine retorted.
~B~A~
Blaine and Puck had been at the bar for close to three hours when they made their way to the rooftop beer garden. Blaine sat on the edge and nursed a beer while Puck joined his buddies and preyed on the desperate women there.
In a break from texting Kurt, Blaine looked up to see Puck and one of the women had gotten very cozy a few feet away. He laughed at his friend's antics, took a swig of his beer – fourth of the night – and sent Kurt a slightly drunk but nonetheless true message.
kurtt. i miss u now pucks just getting on with a chick and its gross and i just want u cuz ur hot and I love u kurtt.
~B~A~
When he returned after getting his fifth beer, the girl Puck had been with had disappeared. In her place was a large man and a friend.
"What the hell do you think you're doing with my girl?" he asked threateningly.
"She's not property, dick. She has a mind of her own, and she happened to want the best she could get, not some fat ass like you," Puck shot back.
Blaine hovered off to the side, enjoying the show – the lights danced and people swayed. Puck's predicament hadn't quite occurred to him yet.
It did when the man socked Puck in the gut. Puck jumped back on him and fought back, but was pulled off and thrown to the ground by the man's buddy.
An image flashed across Blaine's mind when he saw a kick aimed at Puck's stomach.
He was walking home from school with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Behind him were the usual jaunts and jeers. When he could take it no longer, he threw his bag to the ground and turned to face them.
But the boys were bigger and stronger than him, and far outnumbered him. He was in a bloody heap on the ground in minutes, left to limp home alone as dusk fell.
Blaine ran forward in a blind rage and shoved the first man off of Puck. He punched him square in the nose, mirroring moves he had witnessed so long ago, and the man fell from the force. Blaine then turned to the second man and after several well aimed punches and kicks had him running for the exit.
"Thanks, dude," Puck said wearily, getting up from the ground.
"Don't mention it."
"You were crazy back there! I guess you are pretty badass."
In school on the Monday after going to the bar, Blaine felt incredibly nervous as he walked up to Kurt's locker.
"Sorry about Friday night," he said.
"It's okay, you were out with Puckerman, I expected you to be drunk," Kurt said. "I just didn't realize how ... affectionate you get when drunk. I'm impressed with how much you managed to convey over the phone."
Blaine was once again in awe of how amazing Kurt was.
"Hunt," Devon whispered.
"Yeah?" Hunter answered, looking over at his friend. Between them sat a pile of candy bars they'd stolen from a convenience store.
"You don't like it when - when your dad -"
"No."
"But you don't like guys at all, right?"
"What are you getting at, Dev?"
"I think I like guys, Hunt. Does that mean I'm like your dad?" Devon whispered.
"Fuck, no. He's a creepy, sick fuck. You're cool."
"Thanks, Hunt."
"For the record, I like girls."
"I got that, Hunt," Devon said with a small chuckle.
Blaine was invited to Friday night dinner at Kurt's house the following week. He knew that it was the highest honor when Carole had squealed joyfully when Blaine had told her.
It ended up being a far less stressful affair than he had anticipated. Burt made no mention of juvie, and instead talked about the newspaper article dubbing Blaine and Kurt as "heroes," school, the adjustment to Lima, the glee club, and other neutral topics. After dinner, Kurt and Blaine put on a movie in Kurt's basement bedroom while Burt went to his office to work on orders for his shop.
As soon as they were alone, Blaine and Kurt were on top of each other, pulling layers off as fast as they could manage.
~B~A~
"Wow," Kurt said.
"Yeah."
"That was -"
"Amazing," Blaine finished.
Both boys giggled a little.
"Kurt," Blaine said hesitantly, turning on his side to face his boyfriend, "I – uh – remember the text I sent you when I was at the bar last weekend?"
"Which one? You were pretty wasted, honey," Kurt gently chided.
"Oh, right. I just – I wanted to thank you. You're just so – amazing – and I … I think I'm falling in love with you."
Kurt's mouth formed a small 'O' as he stared at Blaine for a second. "I think I'm falling in love with you too," he finally said.
"Really?" Blaine asked disbelievingly.
Kurt pulled him in for a deep kiss in answer.
"I never thought that I would say those words, or have them said to me," Blaine admitted. "I never thought that another man, especially one as amazing and pure and perfect as you, could ever feel that way about me."
"Blaine, you are amazing and perfect and pure, too," Kurt insisted. "I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."
Something about Kurt's words struck a chord in Blaine. He suddenly felt quite dirty and like he had just contaminated Kurt, too.
"We – uh – we should probably get dressed before your dad comes down here," Blaine finally said.
"No," Chris said to Blaine.
"Come on, Chris, I trust him," Blaine pleaded from his seat across from Chris in the Lima Bean.
"It's not a matter of trust, Blaine. It's a matter of the information being out there."
"But I just feel so guilty, like I'm lying to all of them, and I can't stand it anymore!"
"Blaine, you cannot tell anyone anything. You saw the news the other day, right? When the kid who looked like you was sent to the hospital? If anyone knows, your life will be in danger. Hell, it already is!"
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't want to tell you, Blaine..."
"What, Chris?"
"There's a bounty on you. People are out there, looking for blood, looking for you."
"How much?"
"Don't do this to yourself, Blaine."
"How much, Chris?"
"50 grand."
"Shit," Blaine swore. He brought his fist down on the table. "Damn it!"
"Blaine -"
"Am I … safe here?"
"Of course."
"What about everyone else? Kurt? Carole? Finn?"
"They're safe, too, as long as you don't tell anyone."
"But what if someone recognizes me?" Blaine asked. "What if someone sees my face and guesses correctly? What then?"
"Then I will get you out of here and keep you safe."
Blaine was on the verge of tears now. "Damn it," he repeated.
"As you can see, your honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, these boys are unwilling to accept blame for the horrendous crime which they have committed. Because of this, I recommend the maximum sentence possible for each boy, so they can be rehabilitated and guarded from society where they might hurt another innocent child. I hope you make the right decision in regards to these two very dangerous boys."
The lawyer sat down at his desk. Devon looked over at him and then at Hunter, who was seated right next to him. Hunter's face was completely blank. Devon felt like crying, but at the same time he wanted to get up and scream. He wanted them to punish him, he wanted them to know that he did it, but only because of Hunter. Hunter, who had rescued him time and time again, who had helped make him stronger, who had helped him through his mother's abandonment. But he couldn't do that to his best friend, even if the boy was acting as if Devon didn't exist anymore.
The silence lasted only a moment before a man who was watching the trial stood up and clapped. Soon others joined him, and before long the entire courtroom was standing, applauding, and wishing that Devon and Hunter could be locked away forever.
Jacob Ben Israel planned to become the next hottest gossip writer in Hollywood. All he had to do first was break a really great story.
Lately, the only thing on the news had been stock footage of the kids who had killed the little girl in Pennsylvania five years ago. Apparently, the one who hadn't done as much had just reached the end of his sentence and had been released in September. No one had seen or heard from him since.
It was a story that everyone was familiar with. Back in 2007, every parent had freaked out that their children's peers might go berserk and kill them one day. Schools became tense, and kids weren't even allowed to play with anything that could potentially resemble a weapon for months after. It was especially bad with kids around Jacob's age, as they had been 12 - the age of one of the killers and the little girl - when it happened.
Then, three years later, the story hit headlines once again. The older kid, the one who had really done the worst, Hunter Clarington, decided to finally do something decent for the world, and he had killed himself.
He was going to pass on the story - it was old news and didn't really have anything to do with Lima, but then Jacob looked closer at the articles. Jacob blinked as he leaned into the computer monitor, recognizing something about the fuzzy digital progression face. His eyes widened in shock as he made a connection.
Pulling together all the pictures and information he had stored on the glee club, he began to write.
MONSTER IN MCKINLEY'S HALLS?
5 years ago, 13-year-old Hunter Clarington and his friend, 12-year-old Devon Miller, brutally murdered a classmate, 13-year-old Hannah Elgreen. Clarington was given the maximum penalty and later killed himself out of guilt - and to save the world from having to ever deal with him again. But Miller, who was only charged as accessory to murder, served his time and was released in September. He hasn't been seen or heard from since. OR HAS HE?
JBI has the exclusive scoop, seen here first, about Miller's true whereabouts.
In September, junior Blaine Anderson moved into the spare room in the house of one Finn Hudson. Anderson had transferred from "some school" near Philadelphia and had served time in juvie for "a while." Other than that, he remained very closed off about himself. All too soon, Anderson weaseled his way into McKinley's social order, befriending Hudson and Noah 'Puck' Puckerman, joining the glee club, and wooing one Kurt Hummel.
Does no one find it strange that this boy with no past moved to Lima the same week that a convicted murderer was released from jail? A murderer who is from the same city, is the same age, and who, digital progression photos reveal, looks remarkably like our newest student? Coincidence, or has a child murderer been roaming the halls of McKinley these past few months?
Pleased with his story, Jacob pressed publish on his blog as his story went live.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am not here to try and deny any of the evidence that has been offered to you," Devon's state-appointed attorney said as he walked in front of the stands. "I merely wish to highlight some important details before you make your decision. Devon Miller has done many regrettable things in the past. He's shoplifted, he's beaten up other kids, and yes, he was there while his best and only friend committed such unmentionable attacks. But let's look a bit closer.
"The boys that Devon - at Mr. Clarington's urging, I might add - beat up had a reputation in their school as bullies. We have many witnesses who have attested to the fact that these boys teased, taunted, and assaulted Mr. Miller on numerous occasions. True, his actions may have been a bit more extreme, but considering the boy's troubled home life, they were understandable.
"Now, when it comes to the crime for which we are all here, I am not going to try to defend Mr. Miller's innocence. He has already admitted that he was there. And isn't that a show of his own regret for the crime? Mr. Miller was an unfortunate witness to this crime, and though he may have provided the final murder weapon, he did not stick the knife. Can we really call him a murderer, if all he did was follow the one person who has never tried to push him down and make him feel like he was worth nothing?
"If anyone is to blame for these crimes, it is society. Society is the one who beat and abused these boys, who let them fall between the cracks, never noticed them until it was too late."
Chris Smythe went back to his apartment in Columbus, ready to collapse on the couch. Unfortunately, he had some out-of-state college friends who were in town for a conference, and they had all planned to meet up. Slowly, he unfolded himself from his seat and began dressing, looking forlornly at an old picture of him, his wife, and his son, Sebastian.
He'd really messed up with them. He never spent much time at home, and when he was home, he wasn't really present. He'd never acted like a father toward Sebastian, never played ball or tried to fake an interest in the boy's activities. He'd just paid for the boy to go to the best schools and left his wife to deal with life. Finally, she grew annoyed with that and left him, taking Sebastian along too. It was probably for the best for the boy, but Chris still felt guilty that he hadn't tried even a little harder.
They - the shattered remains of what had once been a family - were why he had thrown himself so fully in his work. That was why he was working so hard to rehabilitate Blaine. And damn it, if that kid wasn't doing a great job. He had friends, a boyfriend, school, glee club - he was really getting his shit together. There were no traces left of the broken kid that Chris had first met five years ago. He smiled fondly at thoughts of Blaine, his greatest accomplishment, as he left the apartment to go meet his friends at the bar.
"We, the men and women of the jury, find Devon Miller guilty on the charges of accessory to murder and assault."
"I sentence you to seven years in secure juvenile detention, with the option for parole under the circumstances of good behavior and counseling after five years."
Blaine was called out of the classroom halfway through first period.
"Ah, Mister … Anderson," Figgins said distastefully when Blaine walked into his office.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but you are no longer welcome as a student at this school." He didn't sound sorry at all.
"What are you talking about?"
"The school board and I no longer feel comfortable welcoming you as a student at William McKinley High School. Now, you have ten minutes to gather your belongings before you must leave campus."
Blaine was totally confused. Had Figgins somehow found out about him getting smashed the one time with Puck? Well, why wasn't Puck expelled, too?
Still, he walked down the hall and pulled his things from his locker before going to wait at the park across the street.
"Please, daddy, no! Don't let them take me! No, daddy, no! Please! I don't want to go!" Devon screamed, fighting the guard that was pulling him away from his father.
All hatred for the man who had made his short, twelve year life hell had evaporated.
"You've had your 10, kid. It's time to face the music," he said roughly, pulling Devon back.
"Please, daddy, don't let them take me away!"
Blaine tried calling Kurt at lunch, over and over again, recalling that he hadn't seen him that morning which was strange in and of itself. No answer. He tried Finn and got nothing as well. Finally, he called Puck.
"Blaine," Puck said icily.
"Figgins just asked me to leave the school – permanently," Blaine said.
"Yeah." Puck didn't sound the least bit surprised.
"Do you know why? And why isn't anyone else answering my calls?"
"Maybe it's because you've been lying about who you are, Blaine." The name dripped in icy accusation.
Blaine froze. His breath caught in his throat. They knew.
"Was he wrong?"
"...Puck -"
"No, of course he wasn't."
"Puck, please, you've got to listen to me -"
"No way, man. We trusted you, you murderer."
The line was dead.
Tears sprung to Blaine's eyes as he quickly dialed Chris's number.
"Hi, you've reached Christopher Smythe, I can't come to the phone right now, but -"
"Fuck, Chris!" Blaine shouted.
He got up, not sure what he was supposed to do, and began to run back to the Hudson's house – if they would even let him in to get his things.
Blaine called Chris a few more times as he walked back to the Hudson house, each time only getting voicemail. When he was only a block away, though, he saw news vans and people swarming the yard and surrounding area, waiting for him.
Blaine turned and ran.
Devon and Hunter were at their clearing in the woods again. Not far away, they could hear calls of voices as girls from Devon's class walked home from school. They hadn't realized it was that late.
Hunter pulled a knife from his pocket and began to carve his name into the tree when a girl walked in.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"None of your business," Hunter responded.
"You shouldn't do that to the tree, you know," she bossed. "It hurts them."
"I'll do whatever I want. I'm not going to let some prissy little girl boss me around."
"Oh, like you're so much better than me?" she retorted. "I know who you are," she said defiantly. "You're the Clarington boy. My mom told me to stay away from you. And you," she said, pointing at Devon, "you're Devon Miller. Your dad's the drunk guy whose wife and son walked out. So don't you go thinking that you're better than me. You two are just dirty, smelly scum! That's all you are!"
Hunter's face contorted in rage and he pulled his knife down in one swift swipe, cutting the girl's arm.
"What was that?" she screamed.
Hunter flashed his knife again.
"What are you doing?" She was cradling her two bleeding arms. "I'm going to tell my dad!"
She began to run away, but Hunter grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He felt a thrill of power reverberate through his arm, remembering how helpless he felt every time his dad came near him.
"Get off me!"
Hunter pulled her further into the trees, ignoring her protests and her screams. Devon wasn't sure what Hunter's plan was, but he picked up the knife that had fallen and followed his friend into the woods.
Blaine ran to downtown Lima, unsure of what his plan was. He pulled his hood over his head so no one could see his face, and stayed to back streets and alleys. When he passed a drug store, he was shocked by what he saw.
Staring up at him from every newspaper was his face - pictures from school and glee club and even the article about the accident. Instead of the word "Hero" written above it like last time, however, it screamed, PHILADELPHIA CHILD MURDERER or KILLER IN LIMA: ARE OUR CHILDREN SAFE?
He turned around and locked himself in the closest bathroom, trying Chris's cell once more.
Chris woke up to the worst hangover he'd had in years. He trudged to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and prepared to read the paper, only to come to the startling realization that it was already noon.
"Shit," he swore, chuckling slightly. It was just like his undergrad days at Ohio State. "Can't do that again."
He picked up his paper from the porch and sat down at the kitchen table to have a quick bite before diving into work for the day.
He nearly spat out his coffee when he opened the paper and saw Blaine's face plastered on the front.
"Where's my fucking phone?"
Chris swore again when he saw that he had five missed calls from BA.
Kurt had woken up for breakfast and joined his father at the table. When he heard the newspaper arrive, he went out to get it for his dad. He barely glanced at it, intending to put all his focus on the Style section, but a face caught his eye. Blaine's face.
Right on top of it were the words ELGREEN MURDERER HIDING IN LIMA.
His sharp gasp alerted Burt that something was wrong.
"What's up, kiddo?" Burt asked. He walked up to Kurt, who held the newspaper out with shaking hands.
Burt's expression grew dark as he read over the words on the paper in front of him.
"That little fucker," he growled.
Kurt was seconds away from completely breaking down. "Dad, I can't go – can I stay home?" he begged.
"Hell yes," Burt said. "I'm keeping a close watch on you while that fuck's still running around."
Kurt nodded and ran back to his bedroom, curled up on the bed where he and Blaine had first made love – was it even love? - and cried. All the time, he twisted a vintage silver band on his left ring finger, fidgeting with the cool metal and trying to convince himself to take it off.
Blaine buried his head further in his hood as he hurried down the street. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but he knew that he had to try.
He knocked on the door and waited.
The door opened and Blaine was met with the furious face of Burt Hummel.
"You've got a lot of nerve coming here, kid," he growled.
"Please, Mr. Hummel, let me explain," Blaine pleaded. "I swear, I never meant to hurt anybody! What I did - what I didn't stop - when I was a kid isn't a part of me anymore. I'm not that person anymore. I meant it when I told you I'd never hurt Kurt - I love him, truly, and I just - I can't let this be the end. Please, can I talk to him?"
"I really don't think that's a good idea. I don't know why you came to Lima, but all you've done is mess with a lot of people. I think you should leave now."
Blaine ducked his head. He'd known that would happen, but it still hurt. "I'm sorry, sir."
Blaine walked to Lima's train station from the Hummel house, not even bothering to hide his face or his tears anymore. He bought a ticket from the automatic vendor and curled up on an uncomfortable seat at the back of the first train that arrived.
Blaine got off the train at the end of the line, as far as it would take him. He was in a city, a busy one, but he didn't bother to look at the name. He walked through the shadows for the day, and at night he fell asleep in a park.
Before going to sleep and turning off his phone, Blaine sent one message to Kurt: I'm sorry
~B~A~
The next morning, when Blaine woke up, he grabbed a coffee and muffin at a bakery before returning to the park to sit and think.
He pulled out his phone, trying Kurt's number one last time. It rang and rang, and just when it seemed like the call was going to be sent to voicemail, Kurt answered.
"What?"
"Hi," Blaine said nervously.
"Hey."
"I'm really sorry, Kurt."
"I know."
"I just - you have to know that when I was a kid, I was in a really bad place. I'm not trying to make excuses for what I did - for what I let happen - because it was awful, and I know I deserved everything and more, but you need to know that I'm not that kid anymore."
There was a bit of an awkward pause.
"I would have forgiven you, you know," Kurt said. "If you had told me."
"Really?"
"It might have taken a while, but yeah."
"I wanted to, so badly. But – I wasn't allowed to."
Blaine couldn't stop imagining Kurt's eyes. "I really love you, you know," he said quietly. "Always."
"I love you too, Blaine."
Kurt disconnected the call.
"Goodbye," Blaine whispered. His word floated away on the wind, heard by no one.
~B~A~
"Puck, it's Blaine. I know that you think I'm some other guy, and that's who I used to be. But I was always Blaine while I knew you. That other kid, he died a long time ago, and I've always hated him and what he let happen. But I want to say thanks for everything you did for me while I was in Lima. You were a great friend."
"Hi Finn, it's Blaine. I just want to thank you and your mom for letting me stay in your house. I want you to know that I never meant any harm to either of you, and I'm sorry for any trouble I've caused. I really have changed since then, since I was a kid. Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for everything."
"Chris, they know. Everyone knows. I'm so sorry about all this. I'm sorry that I've disappointed you, I'm sorry that I let you down. You have done so much for me over the past five years, even though I'm the last person who deserved anything good. Thank you. I love you. You were always more of a father to me than my own was."
Hunter stood near the back of his cell, listening to the shouts from around him. Somehow, these other boys had managed to find some sort of joy in a place like this. But Hunter had never known joy, except for a few days he spent with Devon. Hunter had simply moved from one prison to another.
He'd wanted to know what it felt like, why his father kept coming back for more each time. Why his father insisted on doing that to him every night. The girl had just ... fallen in front of him, like a gift. Wrong time, wrong place for her.
He'd though it would be fun, but it made him feel worse than even his father could. And then the girl just wouldn't stop screaming and Devon was there with the knife and -
Well. The whole world knows now. They even knew about Hunter's father. "Like father, like son," the media had reported.
He shivered slightly when a breeze blew down the hallway in front of him.
That night, Hunter took the sheets that he had carefully shredded and tied them together. He made the knot that he had learned so many years ago, and hung his makeshift rope from the ceiling.
Blaine stepped to the edge of the bridge over the Olentangy River and took a deep breath as a tear dropped from his eye and joined the water a hundred feet below.
Devon Miller was dead. Devon Miler died so many years ago, along with Hunter Clarington and Hannah Elgreen. Blaine Anderson was about to join them.