To Be New Again
Prologue
I don't own Glee.
You never expect it – at least, not so close to home.
It happens, every once and a while. You see a sad, deeply depressed face on the copy of the morning newspaper for a week. They homes were taken. They're wrecked. They're just like you.
Then you forget all about them at the next celebrity scandal.
You hear about it in the news, on the radio, from a friend of a friend. Not the most common thing to happen, but it's never that alarming either. It doesn't send a shock through the country, because, quiet frankly, what's the big deal? Well, the deal is now you're the victim.
The one to be found, a terrible, trembling mess of brokenness. Shards of the life you can only grasp at, gone from your reach. They say you'll recover. That you're a fighter. Well you are. You'll be better soon. Why not? You'll forget all about it. Well, you hope so, anyways. But it will take time. Time to heal the wounds. Time to find all the pieces and re-assemble them. It'll be hard, but you'll pull through. But you can't do it alone.
It happened to people. It happened to you. Can you believe that?
The chill of watchful eyes haunts you through the days. You jump at sudden noises, surprising movements. Cowering in a corner of the place you used to call home. The place you could truly be yourself. You're scared to look at you're reflection. That is, before you remember that it was a thing of your past.
Save for the night mares when you wake in a cold sweat, wanting only for the thick blankets to be off. The tears drench your pillow, soak your face. Quiet sobs that no one seems to care about. You only want to be free. Free from the restricting material; free from the weight on your chest. Free from the memories.
People will ask you how you're doing, if you're okay. Why wouldn't you be? Was it truly so horrible that people are tagging behind you everywhere. They ask, 'Are you okay?' 'How you doing?.' 'Are you sure you're alright?
The lie starts to sound believable even to your own ears, the ears that echo with the past.
Places that gave you comfort, places that kept you safe. Places like your bed, your sofa, your house, the mall. They won't feel so safe anymore. You check under the bed before you fall into that unrestful nights sleep. The vastness of the cushions make you cringe. You peek around the door frames, checking for boogie men.
And still, people ask if you're okay. You wish only to yell at them, scream at them for being so naïve. But instead, the lie slips easily over your tongue and through your traitorous teeth and the people you need, the people you love, they're walking away.
Leaving you in the dark; shaking and quivering. Checking over your shoulder for the hundredth time in a minute. Alone. Sad. Scared.
It happened to people.
It happened to you.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Hello. If you are reading this, I must insist that you stay with it to the end. For this is the remarkable tale of an extraordinary boy. When the unheard of almost happened. It happened right here, small town of Lima, Ohio. It happened on a cold December night. December 2nd, 2010, to be exact.
This is the story of a young boy who's world is about to be turned up side down. This is the story of Kurt Hummel.