Here's another chapter! All of these will be a bit short, but they'll be out more frequently than I did with the other stories. Enjoy:

The Karofsky Diaries

Two

[Rec.]

2010/10/28

Camera shakes again. The image on the screen is blurry until the camera settles. The image begins to focus and turns out to be the pattern on Dave Karofsky's shirt. The boy sits down on a bed, the room around him tidy; the posters on the wall depicting different hockey players and half naked women, most of them in beach scenes. The curtains were drawn, but a slit of light cut through the darkness of the room like a knife. Dave's face was dimly lit by the light from the computer screen.

00:01:00

[Clears throat]

So, I'm trying this again… I… kind of freaked out last time. I'll probably delete it or something. Shit… I… oh who the fuck cares? No one's gonna see this shit.

Dave moves closer, sitting on the edge of his bed. He stares straight into the camera, his eyes bright and watery.

00:02:05

I have no freaking clue why Hummel gets to me so much. I know what I said, but it was bullshit. I. Do. Not. Love. Kurt. Hummel. I can't… I'm not gay, I'm just… I'm confused. It's a fucking phase. I just probably got too close to him or something. I heard you could catch it… gay, I mean…

He shakes his head and pauses. His eyes drop their gaze for mere moments before they're back on the camera.

00:05:01

He thinks he's so great –walking around like he owns the place… like he's a fucking piece of art. That's why people hate him. Doesn't he know it's not cool to be a … f- fag… Meanwhile, he goes and wears those ridiculous clothes and fucking boots! Who the fuck does that? Even the girls don't do that kind of shit, but Princess Fancy-pants Hummel thinks he's such a fucking diva! I can't wait until he gets his. Fuck I'd love to…

[Sighs]

I just wish he'd stop. He's a fucking joke… and shit… I can't even say enough about how stupid he was for joining that fucking homo club. Who the fuck wants to listen to a bunch of losers sing fucking show tunes? He's only making it harder on himself. Damn… why can't I stop talking about him?

00:07:16

Lopez should be head cheerleader. She's hotter than that Fabray Girl… Fucking Hudson thinks he's the shit and his girl's such a bitch. Or is he with that Berry girl? She'd be cute if she didn't open her mouth. She's got two dads right? Fuck.

The large jock slams his fist into his mattress; the thump was muffled, but still audible. He rubs his eyes and puts his head in his hands. He's huddled over breathing hard.

00:09:15

[Chuckles]

Can't fucking get the queers out of my head… Maybe I am a homo after all…

The boy shakes his head and gets up, walking toward the screen and with a click, turns off the camera.

"Kurt," a voice behind him says. "Are you hungry?"

He shakes his head and continues to stare into the speckled ceiling tiles. It's like he's searching for some meaning; some kind of sign from them.

A phone goes off at the front desk and Kurt turns his attention to the receptionist; a plump blonde with too much makeup on for a place like this. He can't even understand what she's saying. He just watches her lips move, fascinated by the clicking of her teeth and wondering if they clean the phones off?

"Kurt," says the voice, he can't tell who's; it doesn't matter anyway… "I know you're going through a rough time, but I think you should eat. I haven't seen you finish a meal in days."

"I'm fine," he says without so much as glancing away from the blonde. Nope they don't… he thinks as she hangs up the germ-coated receiver and clicks her teeth before resuming her perusal of a home and gardens magazine.

"That's disgusting…" he says faintly.

The person beside him sighs and gets up. He can hear the footsteps fading away as the person crosses to the other side of the room. He can't feel right now; not even hunger. Dave is…

Why did he start watching those videos? What good were they doing him now, after so much time? What good were they doing Dave? He sighs and finds new interest in people's shoes. He used to like shoes. A lady across from him is wearing white flats with an ambiguous geometric pattern created from holes in the toes.

Kurt looked down at his own Calvin Klein Barker Boots, neatly polished and reflecting the stale light of the small waiting room. His eyes snap to the door when he hears the handle click. It's no one. He sighs and looks across the room. Who had been talking to him? They were all talking to each other: Rachel, Finn, and Mercedes; Azimio with Puck; Burt with Paul Karofsky.

Dad with Paul Karofsky... Dad with Paul… Paul… Karofsky… David…

I know it's a bit boring right now, but it'll pick up! (I hope) Please let me know what you think! XOXO

~Jay