A/N: Hey guys! So, this story is actually from a prompt from the Glee Angst meme. The prompt is rather, lengthy, so I won't post it here. However, if you'd like to read it just message me or tumblr me or whatever you'd like. I hope you guys like it!

Warning: This chapter contains trigger warning, attempted suicide, and homophobia. Please, read at your own risk.

Spoilers: Though this story is AU, there are some spoilers from early season 2.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.

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Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was tired. He was so fucking tired of everything going on in his life. He was tired of everything going on in the world. He had so many bruises on his body from constantly being pushed into locker, walls, and people, that he could barely even see the natural color of his skin. Every day when he would arrive home, his head would be pounding from the stress and unshed tears.

So you can't exactly blame him for snatching his presentation boards and stomping out of that stupid boys meeting. Did Artie, and the others, really see him as so much of a girl that they thought he wore sparkly gowns? Sure, he considered himself an honorary girl but, what do you expect when any male won't touch him in fear of 'catching the gay'. Like Finn, who couldn't possibly let Kurt scare away Sam with his gayness. Sure, Kurt had some feelings for Sam but, they weren't romantic. Kurt wanted a guy friend. Because, believe it or not, Kurt is a guy. However, he's stuck being treated like a girl because girls are the only ones that actually come within breathing distance of him. At least the girls treated him like somewhat of a human being.

Though not anymore, not after the whole religion week. Everyone has been distancing themselves from him since he told them he was atheist. So what if he doesn't believe in a man floating in the clouds? Does that really make him less of a person? Well, apparently it does, because everyone else looks at him like he's going to burn in hell or end up in a ditch somewhere because he didn't pray over his bread. Everyone just seemed to have forgotten about the fact that his father, the only family he had left, was in the hospital in a fucking coma. All they seemed to care about was whether or not he was going to eternal damnation. Maybe he needed a friend? Maybe he needed someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. Mercedes certainly didn't do that.

Oh, Mercedes. Kurt missed their friendship but, then again he didn't. If Mercedes was willing to ostracize him because he had different beliefs than her, how would their friendship work? It wasn't just the religious thing, Mercedes practically ditched him for Quinn after she moved in with the Jones. Kurt can't tell you how many times he'd go over for a sleepover with the girls and end up reading some old copy of vogue in the corner while Mercedes and Quinn had some conversation not including him. So, in all honesty, the grilled cheesus debacle was the final nail into the coffin of their friendship and, right now, Kurt can't bring himself to care.

Why should Kurt care about anyone? It's blatantly obvious that no one cares about him. He's been getting bullied for 2 years now, and no one has stopped to ask if he's okay. Sure, Mr. Schuester gave him a cup of water and a rehearsed speech about caring about his student. But, that didn't mean he actually cared. Hell, he was probably doing it to get closer to Emma, like always.

Somehow, Kurt managed to find his way to his car and drive home without crashing into anyone. He ripped his keys out of the ignition and ran to the door. Through his tears, when the hell did I start crying?, Kurt was able to find the right key and unlock the door to his house. He slammed it shut and stomped down the steps to his basement room.

It wasn't until he got to the last step that Kurt realized he wasn't just tired. He was angry. And, you know what, he had a right to be fucking angry. He couldn't go a day without adding a new bruise to the collection he had going on his stomach, chest and back. He couldn't walk to feet with out someone shouting, "Fag", "Homo", or "Lady face". He couldn't leave school in the same outfit he wore that morning because, he was slushied at least twice a day. He couldn't open his locker without some sort of note falling out with some form of message filled with hatred and ink splotches.

And the worst part of all this? No one noticed. Well, actually they noticed. There were always students around or Jacob with his camera when these thing happened. They all saw it, they all heard, they just didn't do a damn thing about it. Most of the time they spurred it on. Everyone made a game of him. A game that he would never win.

And then he saw them. Sitting on his desk, next to his sewing machine, looking innocent with a little reflection from the sun streaming through his basement window. His sewing scissors. He tilted his head to the side, and walked over to his desk, picking them up. There wasn't anything special about them, but their could be. This could be Kurt's ticket to freedom, no more bullies, no more hate, no more feelings. Just darkness.

Kurt walked into bathroom and looked into the mirror. His face was streaked with his tears, and his eyes were red and puffy. He set the scissors down on the counter, closed his eyes, and took off his shirt. When he opened his eyes, the first thing Kurt saw were his ribs. They were poking through his skin due to his lack of eating for the past few months. Then, Kurt saw the bruises. Some of the older ones were yellow and green, then there were the darker blue and black ones. He was hideous.

Kurt grabbed some red lipstick from his Rachel Berry makeover kit that he kept under his sink and took the cap off. He threw the cap somewhere near the trash can and brought the lipstick to the mirror. 10 seconds later the words 'I tried' were on the mirror in bright red. Kurt didn't even take the time to look over the words. He stumbled over to the bathtub, with the scissors in his hand and sat down inside.

Without thinking, he dragged the blade down each wrist. When he was done, he started shaking and dropped the scissors somewhere in the tub. After a few seconds of his wrists burning, the pain started to go away. Kurt closed his eyes and let his head fall. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a door slam open and a cry of "Kurt!"

Kurt doesn't care. Kurt was tired.

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