This was originally written for the Kurt Big Bang, but some issues arose that made me unable to commit to the original due date, so I'm just throwing it on here. If anyone is interested in giving me a hand in beta-ing, that would be beautiful and well-appreciated because this is extremely rough.


Present day

Hands were reaching up, pulling at Kurt as if they wanted to rip him to shreds. "Stop it- oh please. God. Just leave me alone." He begged, as the hands became fists. Laughs rang out around him, as the blows became faster. Someone, the leader, stepped forward into the light.

"This is what is going to happen," The leader said grandly, expanding his arms to show the surrounding area. It was all dark and murky, and Kurt could practically taste the evil swirling around in the room. "It's all nice that there are people who will try- let me repeat that again, try, to defeat this and help. But it's hopeless."

Kurt suddenly couldn't breathe, it felt as if someone was standing on his chest and he could actually feel his lungs disinflating- for the first time in a long time, he felt Death's spindly figures reach out to him, a voice cooing in what sounded like comfort. The leader- Kurt once knew his name, but it was gone, he didn't know anything or if anyone would come or if he'll die alone and just give in to Death, who by now was breathing into his ear to just give in, all the pain will go away, sweet nothingness...- came forward, steeltoed boots steadly clicking with every step as if it was a beat to his demise. The man roughly grabbed his chin, and stared into Kurt's eyes with a piercing gaze.

"Repeat that after me," He said, sickeningly sweet, "Hopeless. This is hopeless." Death's grip loosened a little- the man couldn't see him, with his pristine, face splitting smile, standing behind him and smoothtalking with smooth jazz in the shadows. Kurt was buckled into a chair, thick chains of some sort of steel wrapped around as tightly as it could go without severe injury- ("Not for your sake," The man had said earlier, as he tied a half-conscious Kurt to the chair, "But so that all your pain can be attributed to me instead of some earthly thing that could have been prevented.")- in a stark, empty, dark room that dripped with the smell of decay and death.

"Repeat. Hopeless." The man repeated, hands gripping his chin harder, and cocking his head to the side. His voice was extremely harsh, maybe from years of shouting, Kurt's mind helpfully supplied. Death stepped to the side, halfway out of the shadows where Kurt could see him, and clicked his tongue in observation. Kurt, wanting a distraction from the pain, from the suffering- looked towards him, soaking in his appearance.

Death looked like a man who was used to waiting an awful lot, slouching against a wall with what seemed like practiced patience. He looked slightly Spaniard, with smooth sun kissed skin and slightly tousled medium brown hair. He wore a white half-opened cotton button down shirt and dark chocolate brown slacks, but still managed to hold the air of professionalism and class. Noticing Kurt's stare, he smiled wider, reaching out an arm. His smile quirked more on more side, taking on more of a menacing look. His fingers spread out, and twitched in a welcoming fashion, almost as if it was in amusement.

Kurt shook his head and gasped as one of the man's fingers crept lower and hooked into the sensitive area of skin and fat underneath his jaw painfully. "Repeat." He hissed, "Hopeless."

Kurt hiccuped in pain, tears flowing down his face. "H-h-hopeless."

The man smiled cruelly, and dug-in deeper. "This is all hopeless." Kurt gasped harder, wincing and squirming in pain. He obliged, whimpering it out to the other's amusement. "You're starting to understand it, I hope. No one is coming for you, not even your precious Blaine."

Everything started to darken and drift away to the corner of his eyes. A wave of helplessness filled him, as panic began to creep up his spine, twisting at the bottom of his stomach, a cold chill. Death's face was blank now, a neutral expression as his face began to crack and everything for Kurt began to turn black. Death started to look more familiar, as dark skin began to lighten to a familiar and homely shade of porcelain. The face began to narrow, and the tousled boyish hair began to grow longer, curling around his shoulders.

"Kurt," He (now a she, Kurt's mind helpfully supplied) said aloud, now clad in a light blue sundress hanging to her knees, with bright blue eyes- his eyes-, reaching a slender hand to him. Kurt gasped as the recognition hit him.

"Mom," He cried out, just as he felt the man punch him in the stomach. "Mom, help me."

The woman sadly shook her head. "Kurt, I can't do that. You know I can't, but Kurt, baby. As much as I miss you, I don't want to see you for a long time, darling. You understand that? Please, honey." Kurt nodded in shock, gasping out as the man pulled his hand back for another hit. "That boy," she said, voice beginning to fill with static, "Your boy," she corrected herself, a shadow of a smile flittering across her face, "loves you. That much is true." Kurt's mother walked closer, the dress gently floating behind her as she lowered herself to her knees next to him, "But, you don't need him to save the day." She lowered her hand on top of his, a slight chill prickling his skin. "You, my dear son, are a Hummel. You can save yourself. You just have to believe it for yourself as well."

Kurt gasped as he felt his midsection fill with a burning sensation, shaking his head desperately to his mother's words. "I can't, mom, I can't, I can't do anything-" She clutched at his hands, before disappearing as if she had never been there in the first place. The man, Karofsky, David Karofsky, that fucker David Karofsky, clutched at Kurt's face harshly, before pulling his lips towards Kurt's for a desperate attempt at a kiss.

"You don't need Blaine," Karofsky whispered, voice dark and forceful, "You'll have me and I'll have you, Kurt, and that's all we'll need. We can do this together, whether you like it or not. But you will like it," His voice had tapered off to mumbling to himself, "especially once Blaine is out of the picture. And that merry band of misfits that you've aligned yourself with." Kurt stiffened, at both the words and the fact that Karofsky was trailing a hand down Kurt's chest, before finally stopping at his crotch.

Kurt began frantically kicking out at Karofsky, trying to get him away. The binds seemed to get tighter the more he struggled, and Karofsky just stared at him blankly for a few minutes, before smashing his fist against Kurt's cheek, causing a blossoming bruise that seemed to cover half of his face. "You'll learn, Kurt," Karofsky promised, "I'll bring you Blaine's head and then you'll learn."

The chains, Kurt then realized, weren't steel- but some sort of shadow alike to the ones crawling around the room, as they seemed to crawl up the back of his neck and latch on to his mouth. Karofsky then leaned forward as put his nose to Kurt's, in a sickening version of an eskimo kiss. "I'll kill him, I'll kill them," He growled, "I'll kill anyone who gets in our way."

Tears were rolling down Kurt's face as he silently sobbed. Karofsky stood up and slammed the door behind him, causing the room to be shrouded in complete darkness.