A/N: This is a story about what happened to Blaine before Kurt came along; this is the first chapter, and I know it's been done before, but please take a look at it anyway and drop a line to tell me what you thought. Thanks!

Rated for violence and some homophobic slurs; I hated writing it, but I wanted it to be realistic. Don't read it if that's bad for you.

I don't own Glee. xx :)

BK: Before Kurt

"I actually had a good time tonight." I said shyly, gently swinging our hands together where we stood on the curb.

"Me too. Can you believe how quiet people were about it?" My date Joshua said with a grin and I shook my head. It all felt a little too good to be true as it was.

"It's honestly made me feel so much more positive about the whole thing." I confessed. "Maybe not everyone is as narrow-minded as we think they are."

"Just the football team, huh?" Joshua retorted, and I shrugged, embarrassed at my naïve view. He was a very cynical person, and although on the plus side, that meant he usually gave good advice, I tended to feel like a stupid kid when I was around him sometimes. Maybe that was true; I was two years younger than him. Just a freshman, while he swaggered around our decidedly average high school like he owned the place; even when people sneered at him and called him names for daring to wear skinny jeans, and anything more fashionable than a scarf.

We stood where we were outside the school gates, my hand warm in Josh's, waiting for his father to come and pick us up. Almost everyone else had gone home: the only people I could see other than us were a few hulking boys several yards away drinking beer out of the bottle and talking loudly. I tried my best not to listen to what they were saying, as there was a good chance it would be about us. It generally was when either of us were nearby- and just as bad for my friend Kayla, who was also out.

For some reason, all the losers who picked on us thought she was going to make out with any girl who walked past her, that she was some sort of slut who would get with a cheerleader because they yelled at her to in the hallways. Each time they yelled something degrading, I could see her opinion of herself sinking lower and lower than it already was, and- considering she was more of a member of family to me than my actual sister-I felt like launching on our tormentors and punching them until they cried. She was gradually being broken down, and as soon as I got home I was going to call her and tell her about how well tonight had gone. She hadn't bothered to ask anyone, but I knew she would want to know that I'd had a good time.

"Hey, queers!" The slurred shout rang out across the empty street we were on, and I tightened my grasp on Josh's hand, refusing to turn around.

"D'you have fun tonight?" Another voice said mockingly, and I let out a little gasp of shock. That was my brother's best friend's voice; a boy who I'd known all my life. He'd never shown the slightest bit of interest in teasing me before; he hadn't exactly ever stopped the bullying, but then who had?

"Leave us alone." Josh said loudly, but we knew they wouldn't listen. He put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me slightly closer to him, but the reassuring gesture didn't stop my heart rate increasing slightly in worried anticipation of what was about to come. I heard the group of about six guys approaching, stumbling into each other and laughing raucously. The ringleader (a boy I recognised as being on the hockey team) strutted forwards, a bottle clasped in his hand and a stupid grin on his face.

"Hey lady-boys." He sneered. We didn't say anything. "What're you still doing here?"

"We are waiting to be picked up." I said, trying not to let my voice shake. For some unknown reason, this made them angry. The hockey player moved forwards, cracking his knuckles threateningly as his friends nudged each other's shoulders and muttered to themselves. Josh took his arm away from me and raised his hands in a surrender position.

"Ok, back away." He said steadily. "You don't have to hit us, just leave us alone."

"Please." I added in a small voice, fully aware that it wouldn't make the situation any better. I was already the weak one.

"Aw, little the little girl's scared." One boy laughed, reaching forwards and shoving me slightly.

"Hey!" Josh shouted, marching forwards and pushing him back.

"That's it." The boy snarled, launching himself at Josh and crushing him to the ground. I heard myself cry out, then someone's fist collided with my stomach and I fell down beside him.

"Blaine!" Josh's voice yelled from somewhere to my right, but my vision was suddenly filled with the football quarterback bearing down on me. He started punching me everywhere he could reach, the breath being knocked rapidly out of me. I wheezed out Josh's name in between whimpering for them to stop, but soon speech was impossible. He hit my face and I let out a loud yell, which he seemed to enjoy. He did it again. And again and again, until my whole face had swelled up and I could taste coppery blood leaking into my mouth from my torn skin and a cut lip. I was crying in agony and the quarterback backed off for a moment to take a swig of beer, before coming back to me and beginning to kick my ribs.

I was starting to go numb from the pain, and barely even noticed when I heard rather than felt one of my ribs give a loud crack. I glanced up from the ground when the blows stopped, and cried when I saw one of the boys smashing a bottle on the ground so that it had a jagged split all around the bottom. He bent down over me, laughing, before lifting me into a sitting position and plunging it into my leg. I yelled and yelled, begging them to stop at the top of my lungs, but the boy with the bottle just laughed and dug the ragged edge into my shoulder before releasing me. My head slammed into the ground and I saw stars as I continued to scream, my voice starting to go hoarse.

The attackers all left me, and gathered around Josh, bearing down on him instead. Through a gap in between their bodies, I saw the bottle edge being dragged across Josh's shirt. It would rip through his shirt and then his skin, I knew it, and there was nothing I could do. I waited for the scream I was sure he would give as I wept and yelled, but it didn't come. The small part of my brain noted that as strange while the rest of me couldn't forget how much my leg and my ribs and my head and my shoulder hurt.

I shut my eyes and willed it to stop, willed myself to pass out or something, anything to stop the pain of my ripped flesh and the sharp stab in my chest whenever I took a breath. I coughed as I struggled to get my breath, but spluttered over the excruciating jab I felt run through me. I began to shake and realised that it was very cold. A light swept over my closed eyelids and I heard the boys scattering, stumbling over their feet and still laughing like maniacs. There was the sound of an engine shutting off, and a door opening, accompanied by my sobbing over which I no longer had any control.

"Help me." I rasped, ignoring the pain that shot through my chest. But no one came. I heard someone talking to Josh, but he didn't answer. Why didn't they come to me? I would answer, I wanted to answer.

"Please, help me." I said again, and this time I think the person heard me. I heard someone hurry over, and kneel down beside me.

"Blaine." Muttered a man, and I recognised him as Josh's father. He tried to move me, but I moaned in pain. "Sorry." He muttered, and I heard the sound of buttons being pushed on a cell phone, just three beeps. Then the pain became too much and I blacked out.