"Life's too short to even care at all, oh.
I'm loosing my mind, loosing my mind, loosing control, ooh, ooh."

The knife slid quickly across the already-marked flesh and there was a muffled scream.

Kurt had always appreciated few things in life; his family, his friends, his pet budgie and last but not least, the satisfying cry of pain, that tear of flesh, the splatter of hot blood, the final gasps of choked life becoming quiet death. He had no idea what had possessed him to have such an obsession, all he knew was that the scent and feel of what he was doing was so good, so right for him, erotic almost. He indulged in the scent of his victim. His name had been Sebastian, so it had appeared from the contents of his wallet.

From the knelt down position he'd been in, Kurt stood up. He moved away and licked the knife clean. He coughed and then took in his surroundings; crimson carpet, stained walls, a fly or two that had somehow gotten into the room which, aside from the blood and gore that now tarnished the place, was actually incredibly well-furnished, and finally the late Sebastian Smythe (who Kurt thought looked like a meerkat. It was just as well that he loathed cute animals just as much). How on Earth could he get this clean this up before his parents and brother came home?

Kurt's family had been out at his stepbrother, Finn's girlfriend's place enjoying a family meal with her family, Kurt had not been invited because he unnerved quite a lot of people with his nature. Despite no one knowing about his murderous adventures, his attitude towards life scared quite a lot of people. At his age, High School was a breeze, since people were so afraid of him that they avoided upsetting him (and him in general) at all costs. The rather tall, brown haired boy spat on his lifeless victim and strode to the basement, where he found two thick brown sacks. He coughed again, God damn it… he thought. Kurt managed to get the body into one of them, and used the other one to put the first inside, reinforcing the bag in attempt to not make it leak the red that was seeping out of the first bag. A tiny stain had formed at the bottom of the second bag, but it wasn't dripping or that noticeable, so he was lucky.

It was surprising how fast and well he'd cleaned up the mess he'd made that day, but Kurt was so used to it by now that it was an easy job to him. He cleared it and began to drag the bag to the car he'd gotten from his dad for his birthday a year before. Thank God they still weren't back yet. His foot pressured down on the pedal as he sped off down the road, unfortunately the body was beginning to smell bad. The only part of this that I hate… Kurt thought to himself as his nose wrinkled and his stomach churned, he wasn't sure if it would be risky to open a window in case anyone else smelt the same thing. He stomached it and drove on to where he always drove.

The sink pit. It was just next door to the Lima grave yard, and was basically a whole in the ground that slowly sucked everything around it in. The bottom looked like mud but acted like quick sand. He used it for disposing of bodies because he'd be less likely to get caught that way. He'd never once been suspected of killing or kidnapping once, as it mattered, since he had what was known as a 'baby face', and most people thought he reminded them of a 12 year old milk maid. He looked innocent to anyone who'd never had a conversation with him, and around anyone with connections to the authorities he behaved and spoke quite pleasantly, which didn't happen with anyone else.

Kurt got out his car; It was going to rain. Kurt could tell from the angry set of clouds in the sky. They were dark and heavy and huge, and Kurt could imagine their ever-growing angry excitement and anticipation for the coming storm. Kurt knew that clouds couldn't really feel all these things, yet he liked to pretend. A childish glimmer in his blue eyes reflected back at him against the window of his car and he edged his way around to the back of the dark vehicle and unlocked it. He was lucky no one else was here with him or he'd stand the chance of being caught, like he'd nearly been the last time he'd gotten rid of someone here. He remembered throwing the person who'd attempted to call the police into the sink hole alive, and laughing as he drowned in the dark beige sludge at the bottom of the pit. Kurt thanked God that he was here alone and no one was watching him. Or so he thought.

Coughing, he threw Sebastian's body into the pit, curiously wondering what it would have been like if he was still with us, suffering exactly the same fate. It would've been hilariously pleasing to hear his annoying, brittle voice scream then choke and splutter on the mysterious gunk, Kurt wouldn't be able to keep a straight face! Entertained, he smiled to himself. It was a general smile. Kurt always smiled at the creepiest of things, like when a dog died on a movie or when a girl ripped out her own fingernails to save the life of another who died anyway. His dad really worried about his mental health.

As the bag disappeared from view, he turned around to exit the part of land where the sink hole was and decided to head home. He desperately needed to wash his hands, and perhaps pick up a car freshener on the way home, since he felt unclean. Ha, unclean! he thought to himself in amusement, as he began to unlock his car. Then something caught his eye. Something. He didn't know what.

It was the graveyard. Kurt felt a chill come from there, and the young man's curiosity got the better of him. It was a grave mistake, but Kurt didn't know that. He wondered into the dark cemetery, his fingers twitching. Kurt's hands seemed to brush against each gravestone he passed, it was as if he was absorbing each and every soul from the dead people that lay sleeping underground. It was as if they hated his presence, which wouldn't surprise him. He'd killed so many people single-handedly that some of their older relatives or a few that he hadn't dumped in the sink hole were probably lying in the very yard. Kurt felt a chill seize his heart and pull it down to his stomach, yet he kept on walking. There was a noise, but he couldn't identify it.

Towards the far side of the dark necropolis, Kurt noticed something. The grave of Elizabeth Hummel. His birth mother had passed away when he was 9 years old, and he'd always felt like his stepmother had been intruding on his life somehow, like his dad wanted to replace what he'd lost. Kurt saw her as a distraction for his father, and refrained from punishing her like he'd done with so many others that he'd disliked. He coughed again, then Kurt bent down over the grave in which his mother's name was written and caressed the cold stone engraved with the familiar 'RIP'. Only at this moment was he even slightly disappointed in what he'd become.

Kurt shook his head. He decided it would be insane to dwell on such things when his mother was long gone, and there were plenty more to follow. He smirked and stood up. The second shadow was too clear to leave unnoticed. Cautiously he span 'round. In front of him stood a short man. He had black hair in curls, and deep brown eyes, and a tan that made him appear Eurasian. The anger in his eyes was noticeable and Kurt picked it out immediately.

"What do you want?" Kurt whispered. His voice was higher than most normal men, which meant he had a disadvantage in appearing menacing. The man in front of him was about his age, and he looked down and smirked.

"That's a nice car. Shame if something were to happen to it," the boy spoke softly. His voice was quite round and unnerving. Kurt swallowed and glared at the person in front of him before jerking his head in the direction of his car. He didn't see it. Well, he did, but it was the back of it, slowly disappearing down the slope that lead to the sink hole.

"My car!" he yelled. He stood in a stance as if he was about to run to it, but decided it wasn't worth it since he knew too well that he couldn't get it back. He stood straight once more, and took a few steps forward, past the boy next to him. "What the hell did you do?"

"That's not even half of the pay back…" he said to Kurt, who was still refusing to look him in the eyes. Something in Kurt's mind clicked. He knew this man, of course he did. Usually he never bothered remembering the names of victims since he never spoke to them afterwards but this… This was bizarre.

"Blaine Anderson?" Kurt had his back to the other. He heard the Blaine laugh, as Kurt had identified him correctly. The taller of the two froze. There was no way this could be happening, right? He began to silently panic.

"March 29th, 2011. I remember it well. The anger we shared for one another. The other guys on the football team told me that it was a stupid idea to upset you, because it would only end badly. I remember thinking how weak you looked, like you'd never be able to hurt anyone, that frail body of yours. You're not that strong, otherwise you would've conquered the school by then! How wrong I was about you… But that moment when I annoyed you just a little too much…" he sighed. Kurt could feel his guard was lowered, and coughed again.

"I made you mad… I guess the biggest mistake of my life, huh? I remember when you left me that fake note in my locker. That a friend of mine wanted to meet me after school near the Brightman brothers' acres, I went all the way into the forest, thinking he was gonna just jump out and we'd laugh it off like he would usually… But it was you instead. You didn't even give me a chance to react! I walked past and like a click of a finger there was metal on my neck and I could no longer scream. Everything went black, and it was all because of you…" Blaine was shaking slightly. Kurt clenched his fist and eyeballed the back of his head.

"Why are you here?" he said, rather terrified. This man shouldn't be here, he shouldn't at all.

"You left me in that forest to die, to be eaten by the wildlife around me! The maggots, I assume, enjoyed feasting on the open wounds that you left? You must have wanted to satisfy them, as the other gushes weren't necessary at all!" Blaine screamed at him. He'd turned to face Kurt, who still had his back to him. Kurt coughed.

"What can I say? I like it when red hot blood seeps from another… Sometimes even myself, if I'm desperate…" Kurt looked around nervously, "That doesn't explain why you're here!" he became parallel with Blaine, furrowing his brows, trying to hide his fear.

"Isn't it obvious?" he looked at Kurt with the slightest hint of pity, "Someone has to teach you a lesson." Blaine's smile returned to his face. His eyes started to change colour from a dark brown to an eerie tone of red. Kurt's own eyes lit up with the sudden terror that he often saw in someone who was about to die. Realising this, he was even more scared. Kurt began to run to the gates of the cemetery in panic; they were locked. Blaine had started slowly walking towards him. So slowly it was as if he wasn't even trying. Did he have to?

The brown haired boy was panting. From his mother's grave to the gates was quite a distance. He tried rattling the gates, but it was no use. There wasn't even a lock on them, the gates were literally just sealed shut. In a frenzy, he sprinted to the wall perpendicular to the gates and hopped over it, now in the land where the sink hole was, and tried the exit from there. Thank god! It was clear, since there were no gates. He ran, closer and closer to the exit, panting and somehow managing to let out a sigh of relief as he did so. As Kurt approached it, he was blocked.

A lightning bolt flew down out of the sky and struck down the huge oak tree that had been standing a few feet thick for about 20 years, so Kurt's father had told him. Why it had to be struck down now, at times like this was completely beyond him.

"Just stop this madness!" he clutched his head and screamed to the heavy clouds. It was raining. His hair was sticking to his face and a harsh wind blew, making it even colder. Clutching his sore throat, Kurt returned his gaze to Blaine Anderson, his murder victim from last year. He appeared different, and rather close now. He'd only been walking slowly, however that was all he needed to do. A step every second was all it took to scare Kurt senseless. He noticed something. Blaine no longer had that tan he'd been so familiar with from years ago, his skin was a harsh grey and wasn't quite as smooth-looking as he'd remembered it being a few minutes ago. His dark hair had somehow started thinning, and the reddened eyes were glaring at him with vicious intent. Kurt took a step back as Blaine took one forward. It was no use running, yet he did so anyway. Curving, Kurt sped away from the tree and was stood, trying to breathe, at the point in between the graveyard and the sink pit's neighbouring path. Blaine had turned around and kept coming towards him and Kurt found himself no longer able to move. Panicked, Kurt felt a weird amount of tears beginning to fall down his red cheeks. He hadn't cried since he was 4 years old, he remembered so.

Blaine was about a foot away, and Kurt could smell him. No, he didn't smell any kind of aftershave or deodorant, but he smelt rotting flesh. Just like Sebastian in his car, he cringed. He saw the bleeding scar on his neck where Kurt remembered slitting his throat. The blood coming out was infinite, and it scared him. Blaine wasn't even alive, how could he be bleeding? Never mind that, how was he standing!? Kurt eyed up the rest of him, it appeared that his clothes were torn in every place that Kurt had stabbed him. Every single mark was there, and all of them were seeping blood as Blaine glared into the pale eyes of his murderer. A few more bolts of lightening came down far away somewhere, and Kurt saw the ground in the cemetery being turned up, arms emerging from the soil. Grey, just like Blaine was.

Creatures arose from the graveyard, almost all of them groaning for the flesh they craved: Kurt's. Shamefully, he let out a rather girlish scream in utter terror as all of the undead beings turned to face him and slowly dragged their feet (or in some cases, just their torsos) towards where Kurt and Blaine were standing. Kurt directed his worried face to Blaine, his eyes pleading for some form of help. The glowing red eyes that he was greeted with showed absolutely no mercy for it's killer.

"You're pathetic." Blaine said, his voice seemed to echo around Kurt's ears and brain, to make sure it was planted there alright. The dead bodies came closer and closer and closer, grabbing at Kurt no, clawing at him so his clothes tore and so did the flesh. The boy let out a cry for help, but no one heard it obviously. Kurt made another noise, but one of the countless zombies covered his mouth, smothering him in rotten flesh. Kurt nearly vomited, it was the most vile thing he'd ever been forced to taste. Muffled screaming and struggling, Kurt found himself being dragged away to the back of the graveyard, out of public view, behind a tool shed. A few of the less brain-dead creatures smashed the windows of the shed and grabbed as many tools as they could. Blaine watched and laughed. He went into the shed, but Kurt couldn't see what he was doing very well. All he knew was that he'd found a medicine cabinet inside the storage.

Kurt kept on screaming. He was barely breathing and what he was feeling was too painful for real words. The more he struggled, the more the zombie claws dug into his now bloody skin. He yelped as a dead man pulled from the shed a rake, and another brought out a hack saw. WHY ON EARTH WOULD THEY HAVE THESE IN A CHURCHYARD!? Kurt internally questioned, the zombies wouldn't care.

"These zombies in the park, they're looking through my heart, ooh.~
The black world aches for a splash of the sun, ooh."

Kurt's jaw pained at the amount he tried to scream, but it was no use. It was too difficult to make a noise and it wouldn't even be heard. He continuously struggled and struggled, and then the gardening tool came down on his chest and raked it from upper torso to his hips, and his screams weren't so muffled anymore. He had perfect straight cuts from top to bottom of his chest, which he could now see because his shirt had been ripped. He was crying, crying so hard now. Kurt wailed, desperate for the dissolving faces to disappear and to see the bright sun again.

"Please, please stop! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…!" he begged the pack leader, Blaine, who was unresponsive.

"You'll never learn, will you?" Blaine's voice was quite calm. Kurt didn't understand it, but he blocked all the other moans out to listen to his past victim's sound. He was the only one who wasn't being ridiculously violent, it made Kurt wonder. He closed his teary eyes and just listened. Blaine was softly singing.

"One last spoon of cough syrup now, woah. One last spoon of cough syrup now, woah…" it was as if nothing that was currently happening, and he was sat in his bedroom, listening to his iPod, after a normal day of school. That's what Kurt should've been doing now. Yet everything had changed. If only he'd spared one life, one heart, one soul. Maybe this wouldn't have happened? Don't be stupid, Kurt. This was coming to you.

Blaine approached him, gesturing the zombie with the rake to step aside for a moment. He had in his hand a dark bottle with some liquid inside.

"What's that?" Kurt looked, worried.

"Cough syrup, what did you expect? You seemed to have a sore throat before, I thought I'd help out," Kurt stared at him, confused. "Unlike you, I have a little mercy…" he unscrewed the bottle lid.

"… You're not going to let them kill me?" he looked hopeful, his heart thumping against his chest, breathing faster. Blaine laughed at him.

"Of course I am, you idiot. An overdose of cough syrup will numb your mind, perhaps even make it less painful to go through. You probably won't feel a thing, plus your throat will feel better." Blaine smiled unpleasantly and forced the bottle into Kurt's mouth and basically made him chug down the whole thing. Dizzy, Kurt let his head fall back, unaware of the events happening around him. The zombie with the hack saw held it up over his head, Blaine moved to the side, and came down on one of Kurt's legs making a loud thwack as the blade went through the bone in his calf with much ease. Silent tears fell from Kurt's blue, foggy eyes, but he no longer made a noise. He knew he was in pain, but couldn't respond to it. Kurt just let it happen, crying without any other complaint. The zombie hacked away at his other leg before the other creatures dropped him so all of them could have a go. A few knives were brought out and they mercilessly stabbed, sliced and severed the body as if it were a piece of wood being cut up for an old-fashioned fireplace.

Kurt felt his body numb. He couldn't see properly, but Blaine was still visible. That's all he wanted to see; Blaine. It made sense to stare into the life that he'd ruined as he died quietly. Said person, however, was staring at him in disappointment, no longer anger. Kurt blinked a couple of times, and Blaine seemed to no longer be a zombie, but exactly the same as he had been when he'd first laid eyes on him as a young man, just trying to make his way through high school. Blaine looked at Kurt as if he was seeing the exact same thing, a hint of sadness in his eyes. It was unusual. As he felt a sharp kitchen knife beginning to sink into his neck very slowly, his mother appeared from behind Blaine, she'd obviously been watching this whole time.

"You should've stopped when you had the chance…" she said softly.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…" Kurt whimpered pathetically as he lay on the ground, a blade making it's way through the many layers of skin a human has. He closed his eyes and continued crying, muttering his apologies almost soundlessly. Blaine knelt beside him and shook his head.

"As a sophomore, I looked up to you…" Blaine stared at him. Kurt cried harder at this remark. God will never forgive me for this, will he? See you in Hell, Satan…

As his view became hazy, Kurt gave up. It was over. He saw Blaine transform back into his zombie state before the last thing he ever saw was yellow and black teeth digging their way into his flesh and being torn apart, piece by piece. Luckily, he was already dead before they consumed his whole body.

"If I could find a way, to see this straight,
I'd run away, to some fortune that I,
I should have found by now.
I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down.
To come down.

I'm waiting for this cough syrup to come down."