Author Notes: Hugely inspired by another fanfiction involving badboy!Kendall. Also inspired by Kendall's role in Without a Trace. I wanted to post the first chapter to get some feedback to see if it's worth continuing (even though I've written like the next three chapters already) let me know what you guys think

His body trembled violently as he loomed over the body, chest heaving with the effort to drag air into his lungs. The contrast of the blood dripping from the knife he held hitting the spotless white carpet was sickening. His rapid heartbeat thudded in his ears, accompanied by the horrified sobbing of his mother and little sister.

A horrible guilt nagged at him for what he'd done to them but at the same time, it was to protect them. However, he'd never be able to protect his sister from all the rumors that would spread at school that her older brother was arrested or his mom from all the neighbors gossiping behind her back about how her son had killed her husband. The little remaining innocence they'd viewed in him was now completely shattered.

He tried his hardest to block out that night, finding it would be a true luxury to forget everything and have a new, clean slate. Instead, he was left with a cracked, broken slate, filled with scribbled writing, messy scratches representing each and every mistake he'd ever made. The ink was permanent, to follow him around for the rest of his life. Sometimes it seemed as if there were a million mistakes weighing him down. Each mistake resulted in a vicious scar; he must've been covered in them by now.

He supposed that was one plus about this place, no one cared enough to ask. He appreciated how everyone else wanted isolation just as much as he did. Most days he would just lie around lazily, forming lyrics in his head. He usually stopped when they got too morbid. He typically didn't waste too much time doing so.

It was approaching three years since he'd been locked in there and he'd grown indifferent to his stay. There wasn't a single aspect of fun or enjoyment but he'd developed a routine that was now deeply embedded in his mind. He didn't even have to think about it anymore; it was just muscle memory. He just stumbled through his day like a zombie, lethargic and apathetic.

His day usually started around 9am with a barely edible breakfast, that consisted of hard rock muffins and lumpy oatmeal. After that, he hung out in the courtyard with all the other guys, usually just sitting alone for a while before doing a quick workout session right before lunch.

Lunch was rarely any better than breakfast and he often just pushed the food around, a look of disgust on his face. His stoic, indifferent expression kept most of the guys from harassing him. It was rare for someone beat up the guy who didn't have a problem with anyone.

After that, he partook in the prison's inadequate schooling program. He figured he learned barely a quarter of what he would if he was in an actual school.

He spent the rest of the day in his cell, doing anything to pass the copious amount of idle time he had. Dinner typically went down the same way as lunch. And to round of his evening, he spent a hour in group therapy, a state requirement in addition to his sentence.

He hated it. All it consisted of was two different therapist coercing him into sharing his feelings about his imprisoning experience then making him feel extremely guilty about his decision. He never told anyone the real reason he did it; he knew no one would care, no one would sympathize with him so he saw no point in sharing his feelings.

It was ironic; his lack of sleep wasn't due to the uncomfortable, spine crippling mattress or the heartbreaking miles of distance he was from home. Granted those things did contribute to his horrible sleep quality but it was mostly the disturbingly horrific dreams that plagued him when he actually fell asleep.

Then the next morning he had to get up and, on minimal sleep, do it all again. There was one day a month that made it all worth it. It was the day his family came to visit him, his mom and sister, the only family he had, the only family he had ever known.

His extended family (both his mom and his "dad"'s side) had promptly cut off all contact with them after the accident. Words couldn't even begin to express how grateful he was that his mom and sister didn't do the same, that they forgave him for his wrongful action.

Not that he wanted to jinx it by questioning their forgiveness but he couldn't help wondering why they didn't resent him still. his mom still loved him because she always declared she would no matter what he did and she knew exactly what the future would've held if he didn't stop the older man. As for Katie, she was too young and innocent at the time to really understand exactly what he'd done.

She'd grown up considerably in the time he'd been away; she was no longer the sweet, quiet 7 year old girl he left behind. Now she was an outspoken, headstrong 10 year old. And yet, it still left a deep ache in his heart every time she visited him there. He didn't care how much she'd grown up; prison was no place for his baby sister.

He was filled with shame as he watched them approach, his mom holding Katie snug against her side. He smiled the best he could, wanting to assure the two that he was surviving just fine. He gazed through the glass barrier distantly before snapping back to reality. Every time he saw Katie, he regressed back a few years to his protective nature towards the little girl.

He grabbed the phone that was connected to the other side. Relief flooded his veins at the sound of his mom's voice, it gave him a comforting sense of familiarity.

"Hi sweetie."

"Hey mom," he replied, offering a small wave. His lips tweaked into an actual smile when Katie waved back at him excitedly. They exchanged small talk for a few minutes before his mom's face lit up in sudden joy. "I talked to the lawyer yesterday and he said they're letting you out early for good behavior."

"Seriously?" he questioned, excitement entering his voice for what seemed like the first time in years.

"He said you can come home next Thursday," she announced with a giant smile on her face.

"Oh man! Does that mean I have to give up my media room?" he can hear Katie whine on the other line. Chuckling fondly, he couldn't wait until he finally got to go home. Every time his family came to visit, he was always left with a gaping hole of loneliness when they left. he always missed them like crazy. But this time, alongside this feeling, he felt overwhelmingly excited. He couldn't believe he was getting out in less than a week; he could finally put this place in the rear view mirror.

He counted down everyday until he got to busy out of the place. It was the first thing he thought when he woke up in the morning (longing to smell his mom's homemade blueberry pancakes) and the last when he went to sleep at night (missing when he would sing Katie to sleep).

He figured none of his friend's would visit him when he got out; none of them had bothered to see him while he was in there. Then again he would think he was insane too if he saw through their misunderstanding perspectives. They were completely oblivious to the logical reasoning behind his seemingly irrational action. It literally shook him with rage to think how everyone judged him without any knowledge or basis.

6 days, 22 hours, and 17 minutes until he was a free man, no longer chained down by his past.

He was allowed one phone call a week and, since he saw his mom and sister whenever they visited, he usually just let it go to waste since he didn't have anyone to call. The guard seemed surprised when he announced his desire to use his phone call that next day.

He had no clue what made him do so but he found himself dialing an oddly familiar number, considering he hadn't used it in the 3 years he'd been locked up. He pressed the phone to his ear, counting the number of rings until the other line finally picked up.

"Hello?"

He had to bite his tongue to keep from sighing at the girl's sweet, familiar voice. "Hey Jo," he said, voice shaking slightly. "It's Kendall."

Jo had been his best friend since they were both extremely young. they grew up together and became inseparable, hanging out almost everyday neither of them were busy with their designated extracurricular activities.

She was easily the closest friend he had. He told her everything, all his deep thoughts and feelings. She was the first person he came out to, the only to know the bruises that littered his face weren't from hockey like he insisted to everyone else.

She was the one who could always see past the confident, protective facade he put up and still loved the terrified, insecure boy that he suppressed within. She was, without a doubt, his best friend in the whole world and that's why it hurt that much more when she hung up without another word.

Devastated, he hung up the phone, shoulders slumped as he was escorted back to his cell. He found it impossible to dull the ache in his heart. He was in utter shock, still refusing to that believe his best friend hated him, especially since she was the only person who knew the reason he did what he did.

He was outraged that years of pain and suffering wasn't enough justification for her. He thought she might be able to understand but now that he knew she couldn't, he knew no one would ever be able to.

5 days, 3 hours and 57 minutes until he could run away again, escape his prison, both figuratively and literally.

Thoughts and fantasies filled his head, supplying him with images of what his life was gonna be like after he got out. He established the previous day that he no longer had any friends. School would be a nightmare, even more so than before.

Everyone staring at him, whispering and gossiping, obviously indifferent to his feelings. With all the rumors that would resurface due to his return, everyone would keep their distance. Maybe after years of isolation that wasn't such a bad thing.

The only thing that really made him furious was being judged for his decisions by people who just had no clue whatsoever. That was the single thing that bred his skepticism towards humanity.

3 days, 12 hours and 15 minutes until his struggle to maintain a normal began.

Thursday couldn't and didn't come fast enough. He woke up early, too excited for the day that had finally come. Anticipation got the best of him the precious day and he'd already packed up the few possessions he was allowed to have, a picture of his mom and sister which was now bent since a frame was considered too dangerous and his notebook which was now filled with pages and pages of scribbled ideas and morbid lyrics. That was all he had but it was okay because that was all he needed.

4 hours and 58 minutes until he could get by with more than just the bare minimum.

He could honestly confess that he had dreamt about this very moment. The last time he'd have to walk through these halls. All the other inmates glared in intense jealousy, mouthing off harsh expletives that he didn't take personally. It was finally his time and nothing could take away that joy.

The guard shoved the door open and Kendall was almost blinded by the bright California sun. He'd never seen it shine so gloriously. He could see Katie and his mom waiting by the car across the street. They both waved enthusiastically, Katie trying to mask her excitement. His handcuffs were removed and he was allowed to move on his own, without anyone ushering him because of safety reasons.

He took his first steps as a free man and there was no better feeling in the world. Excitement rushing through his veins, he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, meeting his mom halfway for an emotional, tight hug. He wrapped his arms around her, sobbing on her shoulder, overcome with emotion.

"Mom," he cried, holding onto her tightly.

"Kendall honey," she cooed, hand running through his shaggy hair. "Look at you! Look at how you've grown! We'll have to cut your hair!"

"Mom," he groaned with a chuckle, pulling back from her.

"Oh sweetie, I've missed you so much!" she pulled him back into her arms.

"I missed you too," he whispered. He couldn't deny the tears filling his eyes. It'd been 3 years since he'd had any physical contact and it felt so good to feel someone's comforting arms around him. He broke away from his mom to stand in front of Katie. He couldn't believe how big she'd gotten, how much she'd grown in just 3 years.

"Oh my god! Katie!" he exclaimed, arms around her waist, picking her up and spinning her around. "Look how much you've grown! you're so much taller than I remember!"

"Well duh," she muttered, rolling her eyes affectionately, "That tends to happen."

"You missed me."

"I would never admit it out loud," she said proudly, arms crossed over her chest.

"You ready to go home sweetie?" his mom asked, rubbing a hand down his arm.

"Yeah," he nodded. He honestly couldn't wait to finally go home.