Just a quick prologue to what could be my first multi-chapter fic. Any and all constructive criticism is appreciated.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Glee. If I did, you would probably be less annoyed.
My heart races as I speed down the hallway, my pace quickening with each step. I can hear the booming footsteps behind me. They relentlessly grow faster and I can hear the thump of his footsteps becoming louder. Just before I make it to the choir room, a large hand wraps around my face, smothering the scream that rips through my throat. He's taller than me by at least 6 inches and outweighs me by about 50 pounds. He drags my thin frame down the hallway in the opposite direction. I drop my messenger bag along the way. For only a second, I wonder if this is what it was like for the rest of them. Then, everything goes black.
Yesterday afternoon, members of the Lima community were shocked to find that another student, Kurt Hummel, has been killed. This time, however, the heinous crime took place on the school grounds. Kurt was the third victim of the Allen County Killer. He was the first victim under the age of 18. There seems to be no apparent connection between the victims. All William McKinley High School classes have been canceled until further notice.
The white noise of the television in the living room gave little distraction nor relief to Burt Hummel. He stood motionless in the living room doorway, watching his wife's sobbing form. The previous afternoon had caused both of their worlds to stop turning. Each of them had lost someone this close to them before, but they each had their children. Burt had his son. He had Kurt, who was almost too young to understand what was happening. Kurt, who he had to be strong for. Kurt, who was gone. He would never hold the Hummel-Hudson's up before a night out to dinner by spending more time than Carole on his clothes and hair. He would never haughtily glare at Burt when he got oil on a new sweater. He would never crack a smile when Burt actually took his glare seriously. Kurt would never wake the whole house up on Saturday mornings with his strong countertenor singing voice. He would never do anything again, because he was dead, murdered by the biggest mystery in Lima, Ohio's history.
Life inside the music box ain't easy
The mallets hit the gears are always turning
And everyone inside the mechanism
Is yearning
To get out
A/N: Free cookies for everybody who reviews
