I don't own Glee.

You Got Me If You Want Me: Chapter 2

Dave Karofsky sat on the none too soft bed, hugging his knees to his chest. A white bandage was wrapped tight around his now bald head, hiding away the mark that said he failed.

His father, Paul, was one of the district attorneys of Lima and had been none to put a few dangerous criminals away. For as long as Dave could remember, his father had kept a gun in the top locked drawer of his desk. He wasn't sure how this would help them if anyone ever broke into the house considering the fact that Paul's office in the house was downstairs and the bedrooms were up, but it still made him feel safe when he was growing up.

Dave had come home from school a few days into the new school year. He had mistakenly told Azimio that he was gay over the summer and the boy who had been his best friend since elementary school had turned on him.

"I can have a fag as a friend," he had sneered before shoving Dave off his front porch. Dave, who hadn't been expecting it fell back and sprained his knee. He had spent the last half of his summer on crutches. He spent many days at the wellness center in a successful attempt at getting himself ready for football. Two-a-days had passed with nothing wrong and Dave thought that maybe Azimio had kept his secret.

But the fourth day of classes, as Dave entered the locker room for Thursday Night Run Through before the first game of the season, Dave realized that Azimio hadn't cared enough to keep him safe. His locker had been broken open, his belongings ripped and scattered across the room. When his eyes flicked to his locker he realized that someone had spray painted "faggot" on the door. He took a deep breath to settle himself before bending to pick up one of his cleats by the door. When his head was bowed, someone tackled him and pinned him to the ground.

Dave groaned, looking to see Strando and Martin holding his arms as Coulson stood in front of him, a smug smile on his face.

"So we hear you're a faggot, Karofsky," Greg Coulson said, taking a step forward and kicking Dave in the stomach. "We don't need another fucking faggot on this team!" With that, it was like he had said a key word and the whole team was on him. Dave tried to curl in on himself, to try to protect his face, but his arms were being held tight preventing him from fighting back. He cried out as he felt on of his ribs crack and he tried to take a deep breathe. He wondered if Hudson or Puckerman were in the room; he was sure that they wouldn't allow this. They always stood up for Kurt, right?

Just as Dave was sure the day couldn't get any worse, he felt something sharp start to carve into his arm. He looked down and screamed as he watched Coulson slowly carve 'faggot' into his meaty arm. Dave looked up with wet eyes, noticing Azimio watching from the door with a disgusted look on his face. He met Dave's eyes and the injured boy hoped his best friend would come to his defense. But instead, Azimio tucked his helmet under his arm and left the room.

Finally, the rest of the team hurried out to the field, not wanting to be late for practice. Dave hauled himself to his feet and slowly began picking his things up and putting them in his bag. He limped down the hall to the parking lot, whimpering when he saw his truck. The tail lights had been smashed out and someone had keyed his car. He sighed, hauling himself into the driver seat. He sobbed the entire way home, almost killing himself several times when he'd swerve.

Dave stumbled into the house and ran to his dad's desk. He felt around under the desk, sighing in relief that his father was stupid enough to still leave the key taped there. His hands shook as he stuck the key in the hole and pulled out the gun. He pulled himself out of the desk chair and practically crawled up the stairs to his bedroom. He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out the suicide note he had wrote after prom. The note told his parents that he was gay and didn't want to be. That it was all too much to handle and he didn't want to do this anymore. With a shaky hand he added that everyone knew and his life was just getting worse. He told his mother not to cry and that he loved her and his dad very much. He signed his name before shakily dropping to the floor in front of his bed.

He unlocked the gun and raised it to his head. His eyes roamed the room and he wondered if he should clean a bit for his mother. He decided against it, closing his eyes as he cocked the gun. The last minute he hesitated, the bullet grazing his head rather than killing him. The cut was still deep but not enough to kill him right away or do brain damage. Dave laid there in a pool of his own blood, losing consciousness shortly before his mother returned home from work.

There had been no discussion as to what to do next. Dave had sat in his bed, weak and his mind a little fuzzy as his parents worked out where to send him. Oak Front Hills was the only psychiatric hospital in a fifty mile radius that had had any openings. Dave hadn't even been allowed to return home. He had been transferred from one hospital to another, the doctors keeping him so drugged to prevent him from acting out.

He sat on his new bed, trying to remember if this was all worth it. His fingers slowly picked at the seam of the scrub pants he had been given to wear. He twirled his hospital ID bracelet around his wrist and wondered why nothing ever seemed to work out for him.

Dave jumped when his door was unlocked and an orderly stood there dressed in white. The man, who only appeared to be a few years older than Dave, smiled at him before pushing a wheelchair into the small room. Dave was still a little unsteady on his feet and had been forced to allow someone to push him around. He groaned as he was pulled to his feet, his head swimming.

"We're going to get that bandage changed, buddy," Seth, the orderly said with a grin. "Then there's some group TV time before you have to go see Dr. Rogers. How does that sound?"

Dave didn't say anything, simply staring ahead as he was moved to a treatment room. He hissed slightly as Seth worked with quick, cold hands to clean out his head wound before wrapping it was a clean bandage. He obediently took the medication he was given, not even bothering to ask what it was. As he was moved to the TV room, he was pushed past an uncovered window which gave a perfect view of the forest that was in front of the hospital. He knew that in a month the leaves would start to turn and there would be a cold chill to the air. It was the only Ohio weather Dave actually enjoyed.

He sighed as he tried to focus his attention on the small TV. A group of kids, all around his age and all equally as drugged watched the TV. A blonde girl in a hospital gown sat on the floor in the corner and rocked back and forth. A boy who looked like Kurt's hobbit of a boyfriend was talking to himself. Dave sighed again, knowing he had screwed up big time this time, getting himself sent to a locked ward for God knows how long. Not for the first time Dave wished his life was as perfect as Kurt Hummel's.

AN: I hope you liked it. Please review.