Hi everyone,

Chapter three is here!

Glee is not mine...like you didn't know :)


"Blaine?"

He was lost. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was dreaming, and that someone from the real world was calling his name, but he couldn't wake up.

He continued, stumbling down the hall, past distorted doorways and peeling wallpaper. As he came to the last set of doors, realization sunk in and he sighed with relief; his destination was on the right, he could feel it in his veins.

His feet inched forward, as if under weights, and time suddenly slowed. "No!" he screamed, but he could already feel his body ripping away from the nightmare.

One more step and he would be able to push the door open! He reached, straining and gasping, his breath coming in short pants, but someone called him again.

As if under water, he surfaced, blinking back his dream and staring at a nervous Kurt.

"Are you okay?"

Blaine rubbed his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. "I couldn't reach it."

"Reach what?"

"The door."


One Month Ago

All these tests were sure to put a damper in his days. He had less and less time to spend with Kurt, and that was just not okay. As it was, the only thing he had time for were coffee runs before or after school, and well, there's only so much you can do with coffee. He wanted more, maybe a trip to the movies, dinner…he paused mid thought, that sure wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

He shook himself, and continued studying the Civil War, his finger running down the page as he read.

Twenty minutes later, there was a loud crash from the kitchen. History test forgotten, he poked his head out the door to listen.

"How many times do I have to remind you that you have to stack the pans according to size!" His mother yelled. There was another loud crash, followed by a sharp swear, and he chose that moment to duck back inside his room.

His parents didn't normally fight; in fact, they probably had one of the healthiest relationships with regards to married couples. He should know, they always reminded him that fifty percent of marriages ended in divorce, and he should be thankful that they were an open, caring family.


After one long week, Blaine was finally allowed to leave the hospital. He would be living with his maternal Aunt for the time being; something that terrified and comforted him, all at once.

He was currently laying in his bed, tracing the patterns that dotted his ceiling. He still couldn't remember much of anything, but sometimes he wondered if he couldn't remember or if he wouldn't.

He closed his eyes, and rubbed his temples in a furious attempt to remember something, anything!

"Blaine. Are you almost ready for your appointment?"

He sighed and pushed himself up off the bed. No he wasn't ready to sit in a psychologist's office for an hour, and talk about his feelings on an incident that he didn't even remember thank you very much!

As he ran downstairs, he glanced at his phone and saw a text from Kurt that had been sent over an hour ago.

He stood on the lawn, and felt his heart melt. He kept his eyes glued to his phone as he slowly walked to his Aunt's car.

"What's got you smiling like a kid in a candy shop?"

He glanced over at his Aunt, "Oh nothing."

She remained silent, but her raised brows told a whole other story, as she backed out of the driveway.

Blaine looked at his phone again, "I miss you too Kurt."


"Kurt, turn that off."

Kurt leaned forward on his bed, confusion apparent on his face as he watched his dad walk into his room.

Burt strode to the TV and turned it off, the silence ringing in the room. "I'm serious, it will only mess with you."

Kurt decided to agree, "Okay."

"What have you been up to kiddo?"

"Texting Blaine (who seems to have fallen off the face of the earth), doing homework, and attempting to watch the news," he replied leaning back on his hands.

Burt rolled his eyes at his son's last comment but asked, "What do you mean, Blaine seems to have fallen off the face of the earth?"

"Well, he hasn't answered my text." At that moment, his phone vibrated on his dresser, "Until now," he added with a smile.

"Good, I'm glad."

As Burt turned to leave, Kurt opened his mouth, the words rolling off his tongue like he would be sick if he didn't voice them, "It's a double homicide investigation."

Burt looked at him, his eyes dark, "I know."


Most people in the western world don't like to talk about death; the D-word is swept up under the rug, as they walk out the front door. It isn't mentioned, and is one of the greatest fears that people have; where will I go? What will it be like? Until one day, it hits you, unexpected and unappreciated as it puts everything else in your life at a standstill.

This is how it was for Blaine. Imagine, dealing with the death of a loved one, and then not remembering how they died.

The reality sunk in amidst a sea of black; two shiny caskets lay side by side, and he realized suddenly that their hearts were no longer beating, their lungs no longer taking in oxygen.

The world around him changed, slowed, and his entire focus was on the freshly dug graves in front of him. The earth was wide, gaping, ready to swallow his parents into it's depths. It looked, greedy; if the graves had hands they would have scooped the caskets into their waiting mouths without a second thought.

His eyes stung, and he thought, "their going to suffocate." his fists clenched and his abdomen burned with hatred. He wanted to yell, scream and throw a fit like a child, but his face held no emotion.

The only betrayal was the hot tear that swam down his cheek; free with abandon, it traveled like a freeway, racing across the surface of his skin to new worlds and foreign ideas, until it reached it's demise, and falling from his chin to the matted green below, was silenced in one instant, one second in time.