Disclaimer: Glee and the characters belong to Ryan Murphy.
Warning: Sexual assault, language, minor violence
A/N: Written in response to a prompt on the glee_angst_meme on LiveJournal that asked for a story about how the different members of the Hummel-Hudson family handle the aftermath of Kurt being sexually assaulted. Any comments/reviews are greatly appreciated!
I. Loss
Kurt kind of enjoyed the peace and quiet that Friday nights brought. Sure, he felt a bit lonely sometimes, with his dad and Carole out on their weekly date night and Finn with Rachel every Friday but he busied himself with sketching out some designs he had been tossing around in his mind or perfecting his pitch for a particularly difficult song.
Besides, he was looking forward to his plans on Monday with Sam. Sam had recently moved into the neighborhood at the beginning of the summer and the two boys were taking it slow and tentative, feeling out the relationship, which was very new for both teenagers.
This Friday, he sat, cross-legged on his bed, iPod buds in ears, music turned up high and sketchbook on lap.
He was so engrossed in his own world that he didn't notice the door creep open or the man slip down the basement stairs before it was too late.
Kurt instantly cried out as large fingers flung his sketchbook and iPod away and clamped his hand over the teenager's mouth.
"I've been watching you for so long," he whispered, harshly.
Kurt's eyes widened and he tried to dislodge the hand from his mouth but the man was too strong.
"You're going to make this easy for me, right boy?" the man said as his other hand clamped on his ankles and dragged them down, pulling Kurt out of the cross-legged position.
At those words, Kurt intensified his struggle, as if on autopilot, trashing and trying to bite down on the flesh.
But it was no use. The man laughed softly as Kurt's small fists pounded on the intruder's vast, hard chest.
Kurt could hear his heart echoing his accelerated pounding.
Oh God, he thought. He wasn't stupid. With the way the man was talking, the things he was saying, the way his erection pushed into his side-Kurt knew exactly was going to happen and he was totally and utterly helpless to the whole thing.
Tears finally spilled—hot, burning droplets of terror.
The man was straddling him, groping at the elastic of his pajama bottoms.
He was still struggling but the fight was starting to feel like a cruel joke.
The man looked at the boy. "Make a sound and you'll be dead before anyone finds you," he hissed before taking his hand away.
Kurt gasped and heaved heavily. "Please...don't," he rasped. He hated himself for pleading but it was almost reflexive.
"It won't be that bad," the man chuckled as he pulled Kurt's pants and boxers down and off in one swift and quick motion. "After all, everyone knows you love cock." Hands were now under his shirt, flicking at his nipples.
Kurt's heart clenched. His eyes darted around him, looking for something to hit him with but found nothing within reach. He tried moving away but the man's weight pinned him down.
Slowly, Kurt's body and mind shut down and his body went limp, the only sound emitting from the teenager were uncontrolled sobs and gasps of pain.
xxoxx
Carole pecked Burt on the lips before getting out of the car.
"I'll be back in an hour," Burt said.
Carole laughed. "It can wait until tomorrow, dear."
Burt smiled. "I know, but you know me, I'd rather take inventory now, so I can order what I need tomorrow, first thing in the morning."
"All right, see you in an hour. I'll be waiting for you," she said, seductively.
Carole smiled to herself as Burt waited in the driveway until she was safely inside the house. She loved his protective nature.
Carole quickly locked the door and tossed her keys on the kitchen table. She glanced at the clock. Forty minutes to twelve.
Finn's curfew was midnight and she chose to stay downstairs until her son came home.
She turned to the sink and started washing the dishes, humming softly as she thought about her night. For such a sport-loving, auto-fixing man, Burt could be quite the romantic.
Finally, she turned off the water, deciding to go down to the basement and see if Kurt wanted a late-night snack or drink. The boy never seemed to eat much.
It wasn't until she was at the entrance of the basement, in front of the closed door that she realized that something was horribly wrong.
She could hear sobs, loud and painful, mixed with rough, aggressive grunts.
Panic and terror was setting in but she quickly curbed it, demanding herself to remain calm. Kurt needs you, she thought, clearly her mind of anything but productive thoughts.
She ran to the fireplace in the living room and grabbed a heavy, brass poker. Her hand shook as she slowly turned the knob to the door leading into the basement. She let it creep open and quietly stepped onto the first stair. She took a few more silent steps until Kurt was in view.
And the sight in front of her practically incapacitated her and she couldn't move.
At first, all she registered were limbs and bare skin and then the image cleared, revealing a sight that she knew would haunt her sleep for the rest of her life.
There, on the bed, was her almost-stepson, on his back, naked and pushed into the bed by a massive, equally naked man. The intruder was straddling the small boy, bent over, sucking aggressively on Kurt's skin and trusting viscously into the teenager.
Kurt was lying there, his head turned to the side, eyes shut tightly and face drenched in tears as pained sobs wracked his body.
Oh God.
Kurt.
Burt's son.
Almost-stepson.
Kurt.
Snarky
Innocent
Kurt.
And finally, she snapped out of the shock and flew into a rage she didn't even know she possessed.
She practically flung down the stairs, a loud, enraged wail leaving her lips. "GET THE FUCK OFF OF HIM!"
The man stopped moving.
Kurt's eyes snapped open.
And Carole lifted the poker high and swung it down hard on the back of the man's head before he had a chance to see who had cried out.
Without thinking, she lifted it again and swung two more times, until the man fell limply on top of the teenager.
"Please, please, get him off of me, oh God…gethimoffofme gethimoffofme..." The small, barely-there pleas jolted her out of the blinding rage. Kurt was gasping under the weight of the man, his small hands pushing against him.
"Oh God. Kurt," she rasped, tears racing down her face as she started pulling at the man, trying to drag him off of the child.
She was sobbing now. It took a good five minutes to finally push the man onto the floor and the sight of the man's impossibly large genitalia being pulled out of the small teenager was something else that would never leave her nightmares.
She felt dizzy and sick.
Kurt's legs had been forced apart and bent. Blood pooled between his legs and on his thighs. He was breathing too fast and hissing in pain as he tried to drag his legs together.
Carole quickly pulled the sheets over his lower body. Her heart was racing and she couldn't think.
What did she have to do?
She ran to the front of the bed and kneeled in front of the hyperventilating child.
"Kurt, Kurt!"
She didn't know what to do.
"Oh God. Sweetheart. Listen. You need to breath slowly. Come on honey, please, Kurt."
His breathing was hitched and out-of-control.
Her fingers fumbled with her cell phone. The moment she heard the emergency operator answer her call, she spoke rapidly, nearly as panicked as the brutalized boy in front of her.
"My son, he's been attacked...he, he...he's breathing too fast...he's bleeding...it looks really bad...Kurt, come on honey, slowly, in-out, in-out."
Her mind didn't even register that she had called the boy her son.
"Ma'am, an ambulance has been dispatched to 523 Murray Hill Drive. Keep talking to him, talk him through controlling his breathing..."
Carole let the phone slip away.
She needed to calm herself down if she was going to help Kurt.
She inhaled deeply and looked at Kurt. He was still breathing dangerously and his legs were still spread underneath the sheets.
She placed her hand tentatively on his cheek. He instantly flinched but she didn't remove the hand. She let her thumb rub away some of the tears.
"Shhh, sweetie, I'm not going to hurt you," she said soothingly. He closed his eyes, tears forced out from underneath his eyelids.
"Breath with me, Kurt," she said. She let her thumb move over his cheek in time with her breathing instructions. "In...out...in...out...in...out..."
Gradually, his breathing slowed.
"Do you think you can move," she asked.
He tried to move his legs. He drew them together but gasped painfully, his breathing hitching again. New tears escaped from the corner of his closed eyes. He shook his head.
"It's okay, just keep breathing with me. In...out...in...out..."
She held back the tears and the strong desire to be violently sick. She couldn't let him see how badly this was affecting her.
A/N: As always, any comments are greatly appreciated!