A/N: I love you all so much for the support you're all giving me. My updates now are quite frequent but you'll find that when the school opens and this story is still ongoing, there will be a specific day of the week that this story will be updated. Probably every Friday. I don't make any promises. I'll make a deal with my parents on the day. Hopefully it'll work for them.
To Half a smile: I'm sorry you had to go through what you did when you were younger. I hope you're okay now and thank you for your support.
To sugarskull85: I know exactly how you feel.
To EverlastingMuse: I will, don't worry
To ronnyangel88: I just laughed at that for like 3 minute straight and I'm not even sure why. Thank you for that review.
To Azaelia67: I swear your reviews are the best. Yes Blaine will appear again. He will play a huge part in Kurt's life. They are cute aren't they? Don't worry something will happen to Uncle Charlie, I'm not sure what yet.
Warnings: Dark content that may trigger. Mentions of child sexual abuse. Self-harming and eating disorders. Abuse will not be graphic neither will it be explained in detail. This story is not for everyone, if you feel uncomfortable with the content, please refrain from reading.
Disclaimer: If I owned Glee, Klaine would be kissing every chance they got so that's a no on ownership. Bad news is, I own Uncle Charlie
Age 8
It was Kurt's eighth birthday and his parents weren't home. His father was in the garage and his mother was out shopping. It was pouring outside. Uncle Charlie was home babysitting him again and he promised Kurt a birthday present he would never forget.
That was how he found himself naked on Uncle Charlie and a "male part" in his mouth. He didn't know what he was doing or if he was doing it right because all he could focus on was the burning pain he felt in his throat. There were tears in his eyes as Uncle Charlie guided him up and down. His uncle didn't pay any attention to the pain Kurt was in, too focused on his own pleasure to even care.
It was more of a birthday present for him rather than Kurt.
The more Uncle Charlie pushed himself inside, the more Kurt's throat burned but he didn't say anything. He simply continued the way Uncle Charlie wanted him to.
"You're such a good boy, Kurtie. Look at you, not even gagging on me. Such a pretty boy when you suck," he had barely heard his Uncle over the pain he was feeling but beamed nonetheless.
What he hadn't expected was for his bedroom door to be pushed open to find the one person they had never expected.
"Mommy."
Kurt never talked about his mother, not much anyway and he didn't like to. He didn't like unwanted attention, he hated being looked at with pitying, calculating eyes and he most certainly didn't like anyone meddling in his business. He remembered his mother's funeral and how people kept giving him one of those looks and he hated it. He hated that his mother was dead. He hated that it was his fault.
He never talked about his mother because he didn't want those looks directed at him again. It wasn't worth the trouble.
A lot of his friends thought that his mother had died of cancer when he was 8. The only truth in that statement was that Kurt was 8 when his mother had died. It wasn't cancer that killed his mother but he was fine with them believing that story. It was less troublesome to explain. He had caused his mother's death. No one knew. No one needed to know.
What he found thoroughly amusing was that he had these solid walls built up around him and yet no one noticed it was there because they never thought for a second that someone so confident, so sure of himself could be so guarded. He supposed they underestimated him acting skills. The walls were right there, his constant companion. If no one knew it was there, no one would try to break it and that was perfectly fine for Kurt. He was better alone anyway.
Alone protects me, he thought constantly.
He would just keep himself locked safely inside those four walls he had built for himself, fully equipped with his iPod, his endless collection of DVDs, his razors and whole lot of diaries filled with hate.
Hate for the world, hate for the people in it, hate for Uncle Charlie, but most of all hate for himself.
It was the kind of hate that he could suppress in the outside world but let out his frustrations here in the comfort of his four walls that wouldn't crumble or crack.
His friends were clueless and his teacher was even more so.
What they didn't know couldn't hurt them. In this case however, what they didn't know couldn't hurt Kurt.
He hated birthdays, especially his own. He didn't see a point in celebrating it when all it did was bring back painful memories that Kurt wished he could bury forever. His father had tried over the years to get Kurt to celebrate his birthday. He had ordered cakes, planned birthday parties, bought him presents but Kurt pushed them all away. After a while, his father simply left him alone on his birthday, knowing Kurt needed the time to himself.
His friends were no help. How do you forget one of the worst days of your life when your friends keep reminding you of the day you so desperately want to hide away?
Every year on his birthday, he would visit his mother's grave, sit down on in front of her and simply cry, which was exactly what he was doing now.
He traced his mother's name with his fingers and let the tears fall as he remembered the anniversary of his mother's death.
"I'm sorry mommy, I'm so sorry I killed you. I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry...
"It was my fault. It was all my fault. Mommy, please come back, I need you."
He hated himself every day for what he did to his mother.
He spent over an hour in front of his mother's grave, crying his eyes out, his head in his hands and scream out muffled, "It's not fair. It's not fair." into the palm of his hands.
He got up after a while and walked to his car, hitting his head on the steering wheel the moment he stepped inside.
He drove home silently as he thought of all the ways he could mutilate himself on the day he hated himself the most. His father would be working late at the garage, knowing his son needed time to himself. What he didn't know was how Kurt was going to spend it.
He rushed up to his room the moment he entered the house, not even caring if he closed the front door properly. He headed for his bathroom, took off all of his clothes and reached desperately for his facial box. He had never been more relieved to see his razor. He sat on the floor, his back leaning against the wall as he brought the razor blade to his arm and pierced his flawless alabaster skin.
He had been cutting for a while, enough times for it to hurt. All up his arms and some down his legs when he found he didn't have enough space. He went over his old scars that were starting to fade, reopening the wounds so they wouldn't close all together.
There was so much blood on his arms and legs, on his body and dripping on the floor. He felt so much pain yet relieved at the same time. He felt like he could black out but made sure to keep himself awake. He couldn't let his father find him like that. He would have to explain why and he just couldn't do that to his father.
He watched for what felt like an hour more as his arms and legs continued to bleed, his cuts still aligned neatly no matter how messy it looked. He got up from his position on the floor and ran the water from the tap over his cuts, hissing in pain as they stung, just like a paper cut, in his opinion. He dabbed the remaining blood left on his legs with a moist towel, making sure the cuts stopped bleeding before he turned his attention back to the floor.
He quickly rinsed the towel and wiped the blood from the floor before it dried up to leave a permanent mark that showed proof that it had been there, which he couldn't allow.
He was still naked when he entered his bedroom to look for new clothes. He hadn't heard the front door opening and closing. He hadn't heard the footsteps coming up the stairs and he hadn't noticed his bedroom door being pushed open to reveal his Uncle Charlie with a boner in his pants.
He hadn't noticed until his Uncle Charlie had practically attacked him and pushed him onto the bed. His pushed his weight on top of Kurt, almost suffocating him as he leaned down further and whispered in his ear.
"Happy birthday, Kurtie. It's time for your birthday present."
Kurt shuddered in fear as he tried to recoil into himself but was stopped when Uncle Charlie pulled him up with him, grabbed his hair roughly and pushed him to the ground. He kept a hand in Kurt's hair as he instructed the boy to undo his pants and 'get to work'.
He had given Kurt the same 'birthday present' every year, something Kurt didn't look forward to. He had learnt over the years that he didn't have a gag reflex which pleased Uncle Charlie even more as he pushed more of himself down Kurt's throat.
Kurt hated his birthday so much.
Maybe he deserved all this. Maybe it was pay back for his mother. Maybe his mother wanted him to be in this much pain. He wouldn't blame her if she did.
Kurt was 8 years old when he gave his first blowjob.
Kurt was 8 years old when he lost his mother.
Kurt was 8 years old when he started hating his birthday.
And Kurt was 8 years old when he realized he was afraid of thunder.
A/N: Why do I do this to Kurt? Why can't I just leave him alone?! Why can't Uncle Charlie just leave him alone? Poor Kurt. You will find out how his mother died later in the future Chapters. Not now.
10 points to the first person who can spot the Sherlock quote. The next Chapter will be for you. May the odds be ever in your favour. I just watched Catching Fire today, don't judge me.
Thank you so much for your support. REVIEW Please. They help writing go faster and they inspire me. I love you all.