Summary: After Kurt is found on the floor with his arms sliced open, he's sent to Ohio's Corrective Institute for the Mentally Unsound. Kurt feels abandoned and betrayed. But what happens when he meets and boy with intense eyes and problems of his own? Will Kurt finally have the courage to face his problems, or will he and this boy just spiral out of control?

AHOY: Attention all ye who enter here! Tee hee, I am currently blasting the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack right now ::shrugs:: This would be the first Glee fic I've written. Read on! But Matey, be cautious! These are stranger tides ye be hailing.

In other words, this is a cutting fic. If that bothers you or will upset you please don't read. It's also slash…so no flames in those departments.

AVAST, ME HEARTIES: This be an idea previously claimed by another scallywag! Ne'er have I claimed, nor do I now, claim this booty as me own.


There weren't many things in his life that Kurt Hummel regretted. He didn't regret coming out as the only openly gay kid at his school, even if constant and incessant bullying was his only reward. He didn't regret telling his dad that he preferred penis to vagina and fashion over football –not even when he saw the temporary gleam of disappointment in his father's eyes and the barely-there, crestfallen demeanor as realization hit Burt Hummel. He would never regret any of his constant battles with Rachel and Mr. Schue for solos in his glee club no matter how many times he was shot down. He didn't even regret hooking his dad and Carole up even though her son, his first and only crush, had resented him for a long time for getting their parents (and as a result, them) closer.

No, Kurt Hummel was a proud figure. He would deny regret until the day his corpse was placed inside his fashionably bedazzled coffin. The only regrets he had were those that affected his pride. Being found unconscious on the floor of his bathroom by his stepbrother while his arms continued to bleed him dry…that would be something Kurt would regret for the rest of his life.

Not the cutting, just the getting caught. As long as the razor blade could erase his memories it was welcomed. Even now as he gazed out of the barred window to the outside world, a world he was now locked away from, watching his parents drive away, he itched for the soothing release cutting would offer him.…

The window he was looking out of was on the second floor. The building he was in was the smallest, with only two stories, whereas the other buildings had more floors. Each building was immaculately white, and the black roofing only enhanced the bleakness. There were a total of four buildings, Kurt had noticed: the "main" building at the very front (the one he was currently in) two "dorm" buildings that looked identical and were horizontal to each other (separated by a garden of sorts), and a tall looming building behind all the others. Kurt figured it was some kind of factory, though what it was for was beyond him; maybe it was the kitchen?

Behind the factory building was a large expanse of grass broken only by a pool and a few sport courts and fields. The buildings stood out against the lush green they were surrounded by. Kurt could almost imagine he were in some kind of sick, twisted resort if it weren't for the eight foot, electric fence that ran wide around the perimeter.

The lady who escorted him up here, Mrs. Doherty if he recalled correctly, through smiles and sideways glances told him that the room he would be staying in was only temporary. He was to be given a permanent one in the dorms with the rest of the boys within the week. She had explained that there were two dorms, as if Kurt couldn't see that for himself; the one to the left (when you faced the buildings) was Dalton's Academy for Boys and the one to the right was Crawford Day's Academy for Girls. He would be boarding in the Visitor's Center until the issue of his dorm room was cleared up. Kurt had resisted the urge to roll his eyes while she explained all this to him. The lady was nice, she even reminded him of his old guidance councilor, Ms. Pillsbury, with her soft voice and impeccably tidy outfit; but the way she described Ohio's Institute for the Mentally Unsound was ridiculous. She acted as if he were here by choice; as though this place were a high-end boarding school, instead of a loony bin for other freak shows like him.

While they had walked she had answered the few questions he bothered to ask; where the bathroom was, what time meals were, how and when things were scheduled, those kinds of things. There were two bathrooms on this floor, one on each end of the long hallway that divided the second floor into several rooms. It had a hotel feel to it; if one could ignore the steel bars on the windows, the tiny lights at the corner of each door, and the security cameras crammed into every nook and cranny possible. Meals would be delivered to his room where he would stay unless escorted by her or another faculty member. His schedule had yet to be decided and would remain that way until his school faxed over his transcripts and he underwent a full mental evaluation.

When they had finally arrived at his room she smiled kindly to him, if a little sympathetically, and Kurt had heard the distinct click of the door locking behind her.

Kurt sighed and watched as his white Sedan disappeared around the long-winding corner. With nothing left to look at besides the creepy white fence in the front and the hundreds of trees surrounding the institute, he turned around to take in the room he was staying in. It was plain in shape, just a small rectangle, and the walls were a pale peach color that could almost pass as comforting. There was a small, wooden bed tucked into the corner opposite the door with white pillow cases and a pale green blanket. Kurt mentally winced at the horrible clashing of colors that he figured he'd have to get used to. He examined the door, though there really wasn't much to catch his attention. It was white and stood out against the other surfaces. A light switch with a small button underneath it was the only interruption of the smooth walls, save for the fire alarm right next to the window. No paintings hung on the walls, no decorations marked the room as anything special. The only other furniture in the room was a short, square coffee table situated next to the bed. Kurt was trying very hard to ignore the reality of the situation, that he was trapped here until they fixed him, but the bareness of his living space was a steady reminder that had Kurt's breaths coming at a rapid and irregular pace.

He stared at the door, directly across from where he was standing by the window, and let his thoughts drift. What if I ran? How long would it take them to catch me if I opened the door and just bolted? Kurt let his thoughts meander down this path. Surely I could at least make it to the gate? The front gate isn't as security-intense as the rest. If I could leave, if I could escape from here…

Kurt's mind buzzed with this idea. He let out a shaky breath and glanced back out the window. Nothing had changed. The trees swayed slightly as a rolling breeze Kurt wished he could feel passed through them. He inhaled sharply and strode over to the door, his stride lengthening with each step. He reached for the handle with every intent of yanking the door open and just running, but stopped when the door handle wouldn't budge.

Of course, the door was locked.

At once, all the comfort the peach walls hinted at dripped away as ice cold reality seeped in through his pores. Kurt Hummel was trapped. He was imprisoned in a room with fruit-colored walls and a bed that was too small. His breathing hitched and his hands started shaking. The room started swirling in a dizzying fashion and Kurt could hear his blood pounding past his ears. He tried to make it to the bed, but he wasn't going to reach it in time.

Kurt passed out on the floor.

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The slight brunette didn't know how long he was out for. By the lack of illumination in the room he could guess that it had been for several hours. He dragged his body off of the floor and over to the bed, wincing at a twinge in his shoulder. He rubbed his neck softly, reaching into his pants to pull out his cell and check the time before he remembered that he no longer owned a cell phone. He let out an aggravated sigh and brought both hands up to cup his face, resting his elbows on his knees and gazing at the floor. The only items he now owned were a suitcase full of clothes, a few photos (frameless), and a bag of his toiletries, all examined thoroughly for any harmful substances. This included the can of sixty-five dollar hairspray he had packed. He was allowed to use hair gel, they explained, just no aerosols. And he would only be permitted to wear the clothes he packed on the weekends. The "academy" had a required uniform that would be issued to Kurt when he received his room assignment. Unfortunately, Kurt wasn't able to remise his lost wardrobe as another problem made itself known.

Kurt had to pee. He groaned again at the lack of a clock. Surely someone would come to bring him food soon. Was this what it was going to be like? Locked in a room twenty-four, seven?

Kurt got off the bed and started pacing, attempting to relieve the strain on his bladder. He walked over to the door and tried the handle again, but to no avail. The door was still locked. A pained whine slipped from his lips before he clenched his teeth and resumed his pacing. He was just starting to debate the pros and cons of pulling the fire alarm when he heard the door knob jiggle. Kurt whipped around to face the door just as it was pushed open.

The person on the other side of the door frame wasn't the same lady who escorted him here originally. This woman was much taller. She was wearing a red and blue track suit that matched the school uniform Kurt would be receiving. She was maybe in her fifties, and had short blonde hair that barely reached her shoulder.

"Hey Lady Face. I hope you're not some psycho with a food eating problem. If you are, well, the next twenty minutes are about to become extremely uncomfortable for you." It took Kurt a moment to realize that this lady was talking to him and was holding a tray full of food. He could smell garlic and tomato sauce with some seasoning. He assumed it was some kind of pasta, but couldn't really care much for it. He still had to pee. A lot.

"Well, this is starting to bore me." The blonde lady started to turn, but only got half way before Kurt was leaping forwards.

"Wait! Can you take me to the bathroom…please?" He tried to be polite. He didn't want this woman walking away if she could take him to where he desperately needed to be. She looked at him for a moment as if she were trying to decipher some kind of code hidden on his forehead before nodding once. She set the tray down on the table inside before turning around.

"Sure thing, Tickle Me Dough Face. Right this way," and she walked out of the door and down the hall. Kurt scrambled after her, not wanting to lose his hope at bladder redemption. He caught up to the woman quickly enough and huffed his annoyance.

"Don't call me that. My name is Kurt. Not Lady, or Lady Face, or…whatever else you just called me." Kurt held his head high. He was constantly ridiculed at his school for his fair complexion and higher voice. All the jocks, even his step-brother at one time, had tormented and ridiculed him. He lost track of how many dumpsters he was tossed into or lockers he was shoved against, the worst perpetrator being Karofsky of course.

He stopped that line of thought right there. He refused to think of anything even remotely resembling the reason why he was here. It was over and done with. Still, Kurt's hand subconsciously lifted to grip his opposite arm fiercely.

While he was mentally rebuking himself, he failed to hear what the woman walking next to him was saying to him. Apparently it was a question of sorts because she looked like she was waiting for an answer.

"Pardon?" He asked softly.

The blonde woman just sneered. "Nope. Not worth repeating. Hurry up and pee."

Kurt didn't need to be told twice. He walked the remaining couple of steps to the bathroom. He could feel this lady's gaze like a laser on the back of his head. The brunet noticed briefly that for all her taunts of his femininity, she had brought him to the men's bathroom. He hurried inside and was pleased to find that the bathroom looked just like any other public bathroom.

After Kurt was finished, he quickly washed his hands and walked back out. He kept his eyes on the ground in order to refrain from conversation, and started walking back towards his room, weird lady and all.

They returned to his room in relatively the same amount of time it took them to reach the bathroom.

The strange lady looked like she was debating whether or not to tell Kurt something. "What?" Kurt asked, his previously dapper manner entirely forgotten now. He didn't know whether this woman was joking or if she was always rudely blunt.

"As much as I'd enjoy the thought of you suffering through a full bladder every single time the need to pee falls upon your urinary tract, I'd most likely be the one having to tell someone to clean it up." Kurt didn't really get where she was going with this, so he just nodded and tried not to look too confused. "The next time you have to pee," the lady continued, "just press this button." She pointed to the button underneath the light switch. So that's what it was for. Kurt mentally face-palmed; all he had to do was press the button earlier.

"Umm, thanks. I think," Kurt replied, irritated with the lack of knowledge beforehand. The lady didn't acknowledge him.

"I'm Sue, Sue Sylvester. I'd have told you earlier, but everyone should already know who I am." And with that, Sue walked out, locking Kurt in his purgatory once again.


AN: So…totally awful? I shouldn't continue? I have the next couple of chapters already written out and I'm working on the others probably at this exact moment. Updates will hopefully be frequent, but life sometimes happen ::shrugs::

This idea was inspired by several fantastic sources. One being a book called Cut by Patricia McCormick, the other two are both fics on this site: Made of Scars by the fantastic IceQueenRia and Just Listen by foreternityblue. Both are phenomenal and I encourage everyone to read them!

Speaking of encouraging, reviews are just that! Encouraging ^_^

Stay awesome!

~Shannah~