Erm...lots of angst.

I do not mean in anyway to offend anyone. This is just a plotbunny that's been bugging away at my mind since Friday on a bus. Also, if anyone is worried about Burt not being there, Kurt snuck out.

Once again. Not supposed to be offensive.

P.S Happy birthday Darren!

Disclaimer: Discaimed. Everything isn't mine. Not even Keitorin Asthore's Mollie. Nope.

I stopped praying 6 months ago. I asked God to save my mum. He killed her that night.

Dad says I need to find something to believe in, someone to trust and that my aunt had begged me to go to the nearest church. I agreed.

It didn't go according to plan.

My name is Kurt Hummel and I'm eight years old.

Kurt took a deep breath as he looked at the tall man.

'Hello,' he said, slipping into his lower register. Kurt was dressed like his dad- the all American, unfashionable lumberjack. His face was slightly flushed and covered in oil- he had been working in the garage- and he had deliberately messed up his hair.

'Hello,' the priest smiled, taking in the small height of the boy. 'What are you here for?'

Kurt took in another deep breath. 'I need to ask...God a question.'

The priest frowned slightly. 'What is the question?'

'Why did he kill my mother?'

The entire church stifled a gasp. A man stood up and glared at Kurt.

'What's your name, kid?'

'Kurt Hu-' Kurt began to reply, before hastily stopping. The man smiled in trihumph.

'Your mother was Mollie Hummel, am I correct?'

Kurt nodded, wincing. The name was like a whip to his body, sending physical pain.

'She had sex before marriage at around 18, yes?'

Kurt didn't reply.

'Am I correct?' the man asked, his voice like deadly venom.

'Daddy,' his daughter said pleadingly. 'Daddy, stop this. Just-'

'Quinnie, shut up.'

'Russell.' his wife warned him.

'No.' Russell Fabray ordered Judy. 'You do not question my authority. Kurt,' he said, turning towards the frightened boy, 'do you know what the Bible says about your kind?'

'My kind?' Kurt asked, his voice trembling slightly. With a jolt, he noticed he had somehow stopped using his low, 'manly' voice and was now using his usual voice.

'Oh, I apologise. I forgot faggots were like girls.' Russell spat. He reached into his pocket and threw his car keys at Judy. 'Get in the car. Women shouldn't be seeing things like this.'

'Mr. Fabray, I must protest.' the priest said. 'He may be able to repent.'

'Not unless he sees the error of his ways and then repents.' Russell answered, suddenly calm. 'He hasn't even realised what he is is wrong.'

'What's wrong?' Kurt asked.

'You.' Russell finally said, turning around and gesturing towards Kurt. 'I see you outside your house, pretending to have tea parties. I saw you when you were three years old, begging your mother -' he spat the word- 'to buy you a pair of red high heels. I see you, everyday, pretending to be a Disney princess. It's obvious you aren't a boy. You're a girl, a faggot, a fairy, a homo, whatever you want to call it. And I don't want to see you in this church, spreading it. Get out of here.'

Kurt looked around the church, only to see judging eyes and fearful glances. One woman was trembling with fear. Kurt stifled a sob and turned around.

'You have thirty seconds to get out of here.' Russell said. 'If you don't, I'm throwing you out personally myself.'

Kurt doesn't even bother hiding the tears as he runs.

The second he gets out of the car, all he sees is a blonde blur hugging him. The words I'm sorry are whispered in his ear. Then, Quinn Fabray is gone, back in the black Ford truck with blacked out windows.

Kurt turns around and runs home. He doesn't bother praying that night. He doesn't bother believing. He never does.

God? Can you hear me? It's Kurt Hummel.

I know I don't talk to you as often as I should, but I have to ask you something. You know my mum, Mollie Hummel, but it used to be Melrose. Well, she's really sick. Like, almost dying sick and Quinn Fabray mentioned you could maybe save her. I know, it's kind of a long shot, but I figured you could at least make her a little less sick...right? What I'm asking is for you to help my mum. I don't mind if you don't make her completely healthy- Dad says she's a fighter- but you know, anything that isn't close to dying would be helpful.

Please?

Amen.