Everything Will Be Okay
Chapter One- Blaine Anderson
Blaine was a dapper young man that was very popular with everyone. He was openly gay, a straight 'A' student, athletic, as well as the head soloist at Dalton Academy private school where he attended. To everyone he seemed to have the perfect life, but behind that bright, million watt smile, his sparkling hazel eyes, and extraordinary vocals and dance moves was a broken boy. There was a boy who was bullied and abused for being gay. Even though Dalton had a zero tolerance bullying policy it never stopped the outside world from the taunts and the bashings. Home wasn't much different than the outside world. It was always cold and dark, filled with people who hated him.
There was Thomas Anderson, Tom for short. He was an international business man and travelled often, but not often enough in Blaine's opinion. His father used to be so supportive and loving, taking him to football games, playing in the backyard, and actually caring of his well-being. That all changed when Blaine came out. His father had yelled and screamed saying it was a phase, or defiance because no son of his was to be gay, no son of his would be a faggot. The day Blaine came out was the day he lost his dad, his pal. It was the start of the abuse.
Then there was his mother Amelia Anderson, Amy for short. She was stay at home housewife. She was always in a state of perfection and beauty. Every blond hair on her head was in place, her dresses were always ironed and starched and fit her body perfectly, hugging all of the right places, and her shoes, always heels, sensible of course and polished to a shine. She kept the house immaculate, everything in its place, not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere, and every night meals were cooked from scratch, five-star worthy meals that had every woman asking 'how does she do it all?' She was the perfect mother, the perfect wife, and a perfect neighbor always. When Blaine came out she smiled at him and promised to find him help for his condition. She poured a glass of Brandy and downed it quickly, never faltering her "Stepford" persona. She stepped out of the room and cried, shattering, in private. She loved her son, but knew his coming out meant bad news. So, she started drinking and turned her cheek to the abuse, because what could she do? That same day Blaine lost a father, he also lost his mother, his world. She couldn't stop the abuse if she tried so she didn't. She helped Blaine secretly for awhile when she could, kissing his hair and whispering that everything was going to be alright, but when Tom started hitting her for helping Blaine instead of him, defying his punishments, Blaine's one and only piece he had left of his mother was gone.
Lastly, there was Cooper Anderson, though his friends called him Coop. He was the oldest and was always there for Blaine, helping him with his bullies and doing whatever he could for his little brother. He went off to college, more liked shipped off, when Blaine was a freshman in high school and left Blaine to fend for himself. He felt as if Cooper had abandoned him, and it only felt more like abandonment when the abuse started not only from his peers, but now his own parents, and he had no one. Cooper had no idea about the abuse, but was suspicious. Blaine never opened his mouth about it, he just had this tone of unhappiness, uneasiness that just screamed something was wrong to Cooper. Blaine never opened his mouth about the abuse. He felt like the reasons for the beatings were justifiable in a way. Plus what could Cooper do?
So, Blaine just covered the bruises under his blazer, plastered on a smile, and pretended like everything was perfect, never faltering. His conversations with his brother were filled with tales of him and the Warblers, his plans for the weekend, and lies about how everything is great and wonderful. The only time he ever let the façade fall was when Cooper told him that he loved him, missed him, and teased him about how he better be hearing about a boyfriend soon. Blaine would tear up at this because the one person in his family who accepted him and loved him was thousands of miles away and was clueless about the abuse, their mother's alcoholism, and his father anger issues, or so he thought.
This is his family; this was the secret no one knew, the perfect life that everyone is envious over, if they only knew. Blaine wanted to tell the truth, tell someone, but he knew it would just make everything worse. He told himself that he was fine, coping, and had only two more years before he could get away and go to college, but even that was a lie, only it was worse somehow with it being a lie to himself.
He went to school and was everything everyone wanted to be, everything everyone wanted him to be. He went home and took the abuse, the hits, the names, the look of pure rage in his father's eyes, the pure look of sadness, and helplessness in his mother's eyes, and ended the day, crawling to his room, to his bed where he would loathe himself, his parents, his life, and would cry himself to sleep. He would always dream of ending it, ending everything, but he never could make those dreams a reality, he was too scared and that only caused more self loathing.
It wasn't until he woke up one morning to his father stumbling into the house, drunk at three in the morning that he found an ounce of courage, which was all he needed. He went downstairs after hearing glass shatter and instantly regretted it when his father looked at him and sneered. He had black eyes and it terrified Blaine to the core, making his whole body stop cold, frozen.
"YOU!" Tom screamed before pushing himself off of a table and lunging for Blaine who was standing on the bottom step, "You worthless piece of shit." He grabbed Blaine by the collar of his pajama shirt and pulled him close to his face.
"Why after all the beating, all the names, are you still a faggot? Haven't you learned by now? Have I taught you nothing?" His father gritted out.
Tears filled Blaine eyes, he was scared, his father would usually just hit him, call him a fag, and throw him to the ground, but tonight Tom snapped.
"Answer me you son of a bitch!" He screeched.
Blaine just stood there letting his tears fall freely, staining his cheeks.
"Men don't cry fag." Tom threw his son to the ground.
"Why can't you be normal? Why can't you be like your brother Cooper? Why can't you be straight?" Tom kneeled and began punching Blaine connecting to his face, his chest, his head, and wherever he could.
Blaine screamed and cried out in pain as his father beat the breath out of his chest, the vision from his head, and making everything go to black. The last thing he remembers is a high pitched scream before nothingness.
He woke to a bright light and a loud ringing in his ears. He swallowed hard before sitting up. He groaned in pain as the memories of last night flooded into his mind. He screwed his eyes shut at the brightness, realizing it was the sun coming through the windows. It must be morning. He opened his eyes, letting them adjust as he started trying to move. After an awful time he was finally on his feet.
"Oh sweetie, you look horrible. Have a bad night?" Amy came in and frowned at her son.
Blaine just grumbled, his throat too dry and sore to speak. He looked at his mother who was pretending as if nothing had happened last night. He would have maybe thought it to be all a dream if his body didn't pulsate with pain.
"Where's dad?" He finally got out.
"He's at work. I have breakfast for you in here. You better get a move on before you're late for school." Amy cheerfully croaked as she walked back into the kitchen.
Blaine stood there dumbfounded. How could his mother just ignore all of this? Was she that afraid? Blaine knew that her cream was the high pitched one he had heard before he fell unconscious.
Blaine became angered. He was finished with the beatings, the names, the pretending, the uncaring. He stormed through the kitchen door.
"How dare you!" He screamed.
"Sweetie?" Amy looked scared as she turned around.
"No, how can you pretend like nothing happened? I mean with him here is one thing, but even after he's gone you still pretend?" Blaine asked.
"You know it's better if I stay out of this between you and your father-"
"Better? Since when has it ever helped in bettering anything?" Blaine asked accusingly.
Amy just started crying and Blaine couldn't find an ounce of sympathy for her. It's as if he didn't matter. As if the bruises, the pain, nothing mattered to her. He felt as if he was nothing to anyone. That's when he snapped and the ounce of courage flooded through his veins. He screamed and in a daze ran to his room where he went to the top shelf in his closet. He had been saving it for months, staring at it in the worst of times, contemplating its use whether it be on himself or on his father. He had stolen it from his father's night stand, a beauty. A small hand held gun his father had kept for security reasons.
Blaine took it from its box and held it in his hands not afraid of the gun anymore. He stared at it playing the past few years in his head. As last night came into view he raised and pointed the gun to his head. He was breathing heavy, gritting his teeth, fire in his eyes. He gave a scream with the one in his memory and pulled the trigger.
Whiteness. Silence. Peace.