Chapter One: Nobody seems to notice

Dave Karofsky stared down the hall into a pair of wide, terrified blue eyes and grinned wickedly. He loved the rush it gave him to have power over someone else; it was a sensual thrill, coiled in the pit of his stomach like a snake waiting to strike. Afterwards, he always experienced a giddy high only a little tinged with shame. With this particular victim, however, the shame could be staved off indefinitely. He could ride the wave of Kurt Hummel's bruises and tears all day, because he told himself the fairy fucking deserved it.

He bore down on the boy, grabbing him by the lapels of his expensive coat and pulling him close—chests bumping for only an instant—before shoving him roughly away. He did it in one smooth motion, without missing a beat. It was like a dance, and he'd perfected every step. As he walked away, he turned to scowl his disapproval at the boy huddled on the floor, fighting off tears. He fought the smile that twitched his lips at the sight of his handiwork. The high carried him down the hall and through the rest of his monotonous daily routine, relaxing his shoulders and putting a confidence in his step that he couldn't seem to feel any other way.

Nobody notices as the angel-faced boy in the fashionable jacket picks himself up off the floor. Nobody watches him take deep, steadying breaths to keep his tears from overflowing. Nobody would reach out and comfort him if he knew how, but he doesn't. There's only one way Nobody knows to show the way he feels. Tonight, David Karofsky is going to pay.

"Anybody home?" Dave called in a tired voice as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside the dark house. The curtains were pulled, diffusing the sunlight and casting everything dimly in grey, broken shadows. He flicked on the hall light and tossed his backpack and gym bag at the foot of the stairs, grunting as the soreness in his muscles from football practice made itself known at the sudden release of extra weight. As usual, no one was home.

Moving through the house, he flipped every light switch until the shadows were somewhat dispelled, and turned the television on for some background noise. His parents were working late, as usual, and his sister took piano lessons after school, catching a ride home with her teacher. Even the dog seemed to have slunk off somewhere, probably sunbathing or digging in the neighbor's yard. Dave hated the first couple of hours after he got home; the house was too dark, too quiet, to big and empty without his family in it. It left too much room in his head for thinking, something he avoided at all costs unless absolutely necessary. For Dave, especially recently, there was no distinction whatsoever between thinking and thinking too much.

He grabbed a soda from the fridge and plopped on the couch, channel-surfing aimlessly before landing on Cartoon Network. He knew he should do his homework, but it was too quiet an activity to do in the empty house. Even if he shut his bedroom door and turned on some music; there was just something eerie about knowing there were all those empty rooms around you, separated from you by nothing but wood and sheet rock. He shuddered, and tried to focus on the bright colors and loud noises of whatever was on the television. He must have been more tired than he thought, because the next thing he knew he was waking up to the sound of his mother coming in the front door.

"Hey, Davey," she said, smiling. He sat up groggily and gave her a sleepy grin.

"Hey Ma. How's work?"

"The usual. Too much to do and not enough time to do it in. Did you let Moony out when you got home?" Dave looked at her, confused.

"I didn't see Moony when I got home. I figured you or Dad had let him out this morning." His mother frowned.

"No…when I left he was still inside. And your father left before me."

"Oh. Well, maybe Shelby forgot to bring him inside last night." His mother rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"That girl. I swear. Shelby!" His mother stomped up the stairs, leaving her briefcase in a pile with Dave's things at the foot, calling after his sister. Dave groaned and fell back on the couch. His head ached and he had that gross feeling from sleeping in his clothes. He cracked his neck and stretched, then got up and wandered into the kitchen, intent on helping his mom start dinner.

"Moo-ooom, seriously! I swear, I didn't forget. I brought Moony in right before I went to bed!" He heard his sister whining her way down the stairs, and smirked. No one was buying that one; Shelby was notoriously forgetful. Their dad joked that she'd lose her head if it wasn't attached. Dave grimaced; what a morbid image.

"David!" His sister appeared at the entryway to the kitchen as he laid out the peppers and tomatoes. "Did you tell mom I forgot to let Moony in? You jerk, I did not!"

Dave ignored her. There was no arguing with Shelby. She would swear up and down she'd put her homework in her backpack, rant and rave about no one believing her, and then try to sidestep their knowing glances two days later when she found it somewhere entirely other than the place she was "so sure" she put it. Pointing this out whenever it occurred never did much to improve her mood, and it certainly didn't stop her whining. So he just stayed quiet.

"Ugh! Of all the brothers in the world, I had to get stuck with you, you Neanderthal!" Ouch. That stung. Why did people keep calling him that? He was big for his age, sure—broad-shouldered and tall—and maybe his brow was a little prominent. But he was hardly a cave man. He tried to shrug it off. Hummel probably called him that just to get some of his own back, and his sister…well, she could be a little bitch sometimes, but in his weird way Dave doted on her, so he guessed he didn't mind what she called him. Still. Ouch.

It took him a moment to realize she had stormed off, banging through the screen door and onto the sun porch that opened out into the back yard. He shook his head indulgently and went back to chopping up the peppers in front of him. He had finished, and had started the tomatoes and peppers stewing, when he heard his little sister scream.

He dropped the stirring spoon he was holding and went tearing out into the back yard, following the sound of her screams. Normally he would just put this kind of thing down to her being a hysterical preteen, but this wasn't an I-just-saw-a-spider kind of scream, or even an I-just-got-stung-by-a-wasp kind of scream. Shelby was shrieking her head off, and as he cleared the sun porch he could discern that she was crying, too, and that there were probably words in all the noise she was making, but he couldn't understand them. He didn't see her in the yard; it sounded like she was in the woods. He headed in that direction, speeding up when her screams choked off.

He found her back in the woods a little ways, near the tree they'd built their tree house in. She was sitting curled up in a ball, back against a fallen log, staring at something on the tree, by the ladder that led up to the tree house. Something small, and furry, and…

Oh…God. Oh my God. Dave suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

It was Moony, emphasis on was. The little dog had been gutted by something; its neck twisted around and its big eyes staring grotesquely, face set in a paroxysm of pain. And someone had nailed it to the side of the tree.

Dave swallowed back the urge to vomit and edged closer to his sister, trying to get to her without stepping on the bloody ground around the tree. He reached her side eventually, and grasped her by her arms, pulling her up and into a hug, hiding her face in his shirt to keep her from seeing the dog again. Her shoulders shook, and he could feel her tears soaking through the thin fabric already. Without a word he walked her back toward the house, stumbling a little because they refused to let go of each other. He sat her down at the kitchen table just as their mother came down the stairs, scowling.

"David, what on earth was your sister screaming abou—" she stopped when she saw the looks on her children's faces. They both looked shell shocked and a little nauseous.

"What happened?" She asked flatly. Dave looked at Shelby. She didn't look like she could open her mouth without bursting into fresh tears. He swallowed hard and turned to his mother.

"W-we found…we found Moony. He was in the woods…" he trailed off, unable to describe the grisly scene again. Someone had killed his dog and nailed it to their tree. He suddenly felt cold all over, scared.

His mother didn't seem to understand.

"Well, bring him inside and then wash your hands so you can help me finish up the marinara sauce for dinner."

At the thought of marinara sauce, Dave's stomach finally rebelled. He jumped up and ran, barely making it to the bathroom before retching up the contents of his stomach as he tried to drown out the sound of his sister sobbing as she tried to tell her mother what he'd meant.

Author's Note: This random plotbunny entered my mind today and just wouldn't let go. It is quite different from anything else I've written. Don't expect any warm, fluffy feelings from this one, kittens. This is a completely different animal. It will probably run about 20-30 chapters, and be updated once a week or so. Thanks for reading!

-The Raisin Girl