A/N: Just a warning, this is appearing to be the beginning of a very, very, screwed-up "let's torture Kurt!" story. And, for those of you waiting for an update on Can't Do It Alone, I'm just warning, that isn't happening soon...I seriously don't know where to go with that story. But, here's a different story. Hopefully you'll like it just as well?

Rachel Berry sat curled between her two dads as they watched the news, half-reading the book version of Wicked. Bits and pieces of the latest story to trickle into the Lima Ohio News Room reached her ear. "February 26, 2011…" Noah Puckerman was sprawled across the couch in his house, too tired from football practice to change the channel from the news to a better show. "6:30 P.M…" Finn Hudson was collapsed in a chair at the Hummel-Hudson household, biting savagely at a grilled cheese sandwich, the news blaring at him from the tv. "…at Dalton Academy…" William Schuester sat at his kitchen table, partially-graded Spanish tests spread in front of him, taking partial notice of the name of the school that had popped up suddenly in the news from the television. "… in Westerville, Ohio…" Artie Abrams tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest of his wheelchair, waiting for his mom to stop watching the news and let him play Guitar Hero. He casually noticed the name of the school, remembering his once-Gleemate that now went there. "…was the last place the missing teen was seen…" Quinn Fabray, bent over her homework, glanced up in interest as the statement from the television in the next room over reached her ears. "…if anyone has any information on the whereabouts of Kurt Hummel, please contact the Westerville or Lima Police Departments." Burt Hummel, sitting next to his suddenly-frozen stepson, let the television remote drop numbly from his fingers.

Kurt Hummel woke, eventually becoming aware of a lulling motion and the noise of a growling engine. He lay very still a moment, the blackness that obscured his vision confusing and terrifying him. Then his head throbbed unpleasantly, a sort of repetitive stabbing feeling, and, in a frightening rush of clarity, the memories came flooding back.

"Hey, you're Kurt Hummel, right?"

Kurt turned, straightening his Dalton jacket, squinting against the late afternoon sun. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

The two men that stood before him exchanged glances.

"That your boyfriend over there?"

Kurt glanced behind him at Blaine, disappearing into a nearby building. "No," he said, a growing sense of unease settling in his stomach as the two men took a step closer. "What do you want?"
"You might know my cousin." Kurt stumbled back as the taller of the two folded his arms threateningly. "You kissed him in a locker room, when he was alone and defenseless."

"…Karofsky…" breathed Kurt in sudden realization, a sense that was swiftly followed by fear. He moved to run, but before he could, two sets of hands grabbed at him, successfully keeping him still.

"Interesting you don't deny that." Sneered Karofsky's cousin.

"I didn't." He stammered.

"Its funny; I don't believe you." His struggles were no use against the chloroform-soaked cloth that was pressed roughly over his nose and mouth.

Kurt could feel every single bump the car raced over, each smallest imperfection in the road jarring him uncomfortably. The bag over his head made the air stuffy and hard to breathe, and the walls pressing against him on all sides made him fairly certain he was currently in the trunk of a very, very small car. A trunk that, undoubtedly, would run out of air sooner then later. He shifted, struggling against the bag that obscured his eyesight and breathing, but all the good his movements did him was to make him aware of the throbbing pain in his wrist, which he instinctively clutched to his chest, a sick feeling of dread tugging at him as he felt the lump that indicated it was broken. With each second that passed, his breathing felt more and more labored. He could hear his ragged breaths in his own ears, feeling as if he was attempting to suck the oxygen out of water, until, eventually, he gave in to the cool, blissful nothingness that was beckoning him.

A/N: I'm hoping you didn't totally hate my pathetic, short beginning? If you want it continued, review please :) Love ya!