AN: Hello punks, punkettes and everyone inbetween. Yesh I am back. I know I had started another story that is currently in limbo.. but things happen and yeah… The plot bunnies would rather have me do this one. I am not sure where they got this from.. I think it was a bad trip gone worse… lol. Anyways… This is obviously COMPLETELY AU… More or less. This chapter is pretty… intense so I apologize completely if it makes anyone uncomfortable or anything. I give a HUGE thanks to my beta WillowFan for not judging and making this readable for you all. Thankies Willow I 3 you=] I plan this to be a multi-chaptered story. And I promise it's a happy ending.

D/C: I do not own anything Glee related… I just use and abuse the characters every so often.


I am Kurt Hummel. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel to he exact. I am 17 years 4 months 9 days 3 hours and 17 minutes old... give or take a few seconds. I am currently a junior at William McKinley High School and the only "out" gay in my school; which can be very trying at times. I live in Lima,Ohio with my father; my mother died when I was 4 from cancer. My dad owns his own garage and works super long hours; which leaves the house work and cooking to me... how wonderfully stereotypical! And with all these things combined... it is safe to say... I am at my breaking point.


Just as I close my... diary? Journal? Book O' thoughts? We'll just say book; I hear the front door slam. I shove the book under my mattress and walk upstairs from my basement bedroom, praying to whoever was listening that my father was in a good mood. One look at him and I knew no one had been listening.


I head to the kitchen to grab him a beer and warm up his plate of food. I hear him walk into the kitchen and plaster my fakest happy face on before I turn and acknowledge him.

"Hey dad. How was work?" I ask as I hand him the can of beer.

He grumbles something unintelligible and snatches the can out of my hand. I turned back to the microwave, biting my lower lip holding back the tears that threaten to spill over.


I grab the plate from the microwave and turn around to put in front of my father when my feet decide they wanted to tangle together. The plate goes flying from my hands and I hit the ground. I watch as mashed potatoes and corn splatter all over the cabinets and meatloaf smear across the floor. For a moment the only sound is the plate clattering on the ground. Then I hear the chair my father is sitting in get shoved back as he stands up.

"God damnit Kurt! Can't you do anything right?" He roars as he strides over to me.

"Dad I'm sorry! Please dad, it was an accident! I'm so sorry!" I plead with wide eyes, panicking slightly.

"Shut the fuck up damnit!" He belows throwing his can of beer at me, his face turning bright red.

"Daddy please..." I start to to say, just to be interrupted by the back of my father's hand connecting with my face.

"I said shut up! Now clean this place up!" He spits at me, before he grabs another beer out of the fridge and walks to the living room.


Once I know he's out of earshot, I let the sob I didn't realize I was holding in escape. I touch the corner of my mouth and pull back red tinged fingertips. I can tell by the wetness on my forehead that his beer can cut it.

'Thats going to be fun to try and hide at school.' I muse to myself.


Before I even have a chance to start cleaning up, my father stomps his way back into the kitchen.

"This place doesn't look any cleaner!" He says, coming closer to me.

"Dad I- I'm sorry! I was just going to start! I promise! Please!" I stammer, scooting backwards until my back hits the cabinets.

"When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it when I say so. Not when you feel like it!" He says harshly as he looms over me.


All I can do is stare up at him with wide eyes, tears spilling over.

"Dry it up Kurt." My father demands warningly. I try to choke back the sobs but they continue to slip out.

"GOD DAMNIT KURT! DRY IT UP!" He bellows as he grabs the front of my shirt.


Next thing I know I'm being hoisted off the floor by my shirt and shoved against the wall. My head slams against the wall and I swear I see stars.

"Daddy, please... stop." I sob out basically begging.

"I will stop when and if I damn well please. I'm the father not you!" He spits in my face as the back of his hand connects with it again. I can't help it and start to cry loudly.

"Jesus Christ Kurt! Shut the fuck up and dry it up. I thought you were my son. Not my daughter who is on her rag!" He slurs out. It's at that point thar I realize he is a hell of a lot more drunk than I noticed before.

He pulls me to him just to throw me against the counter. I step in some mashed potatoes and slip. Its at this point that my head decides it wants to make out with the countertops. My head swims... the world spins... and I want to throw up. But sleep... oh painless, weightless sleep...


AN: So whats the verdict? Continue? Or just stop? R&R! Love Peace and Chicken Grease!=]