A/N: I wrote half of this at 4:00 in the morning because I have been too sick to sleep, and the other half while hopped up on flu meds. Let's hope it's coherent. And I just bought the Warblers' CD (and got the funniest look from the cashier because I also picked up some symphonic metal albums I'd been meaning to buy) – so much awesome.

And I want to thank you guys for the awesome comments – it's good to know that this is turning out okay :)

~?~

Mind spinning, the horrible image still blazing behind his eyes, Kurt's legs go weak, sending him stumbling into the wall of the hallway. As he slides down to the ground he feels hands guiding him gently, easing his fall.

Curling his knees into his chest, Kurt feels shock blurring his thoughts. "I don't understand," he whispers. "Why would he do that?"

Burt kneels down, one hand still holding on to Kurt, and shakes his head. "I don't know." Outrage laces his words, and Kurt notices the shaking of his dad's hand. "But he's not going to get away with this."

Kurt watches as his dad's face burns red in fury, his lips pinched and his jaw muscles bulging. A wave of worry overrides his own feelings, and Kurt grabs onto it.

"Dad – " Kurt starts to say, but is cut off.

"I'm going to find him and skin him alive," Burt growls, muscles tense and trembling from his fury.

"Dad, you have to calm down."

"No – that bastard – he –" Burt's words are chopped by emotion and the tendons in his neck are standing out from the strain. "There is no way in hell I'm going to calm down."

"Dad, please," Kurt almost begs.

"Why?" Burt demands, gesturing vaguely toward Finn's room with one hand. "Aren't you angry? Jesus Kurt, I want to kill the little fuck."

Kurt wants to yell "of course I am," wants to show his dad just how angry he is. But that anger is buried so deep under a plethora of other emotions that it is weighed down; it is at the back of a queue filled with shame and sorrow and sickening disgust.

Sweat is starting to bead on his dad's forehead, the little droplets shining in the light of the hall. This kind of stress, the way it is affecting his father, scares Kurt. He never wants to have to watch his father lay prone in a hospital bed again.

"Dad, please," he repeats. "You are so much more important to me than this – than him. I need you." Lips trembling, Kurt continues, "And you can't help me if you're in the hospital."

Burt stares at him, his nostrils flaring with his angered breathing, as the words sink in. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he gives a tiny nod. "Yeah – yeah, okay. But we're going to the authorities with this. Now."

Kurt nods in agreement even as a throng of doubts cloud the back of his mind. More people are going to see this, are going to see that happening to him. It shouldn't, but it makes him feel disgusting, like he's done something wrong.

Both Kurt and Burt look up to Finn's doorway when they hear the other boy shift awkwardly and make a little noise like he wants to say something, but he doesn't know if he should. The look on his face, the confusion and the worry, reminds Kurt that neither Finn nor Carole know about what had happened the night before.

"Finn?" Burt stands slowly, keeping close to Kurt as he does so.

Finn opens and closes his mouth a few times before he starts to speak, everything in his posture reflecting the horridness of the situation. "The video came in an email." He shifts to the left, one hand rubbing at the side of his pants. "He sent it to all of us."

"Us?" breathes Kurt, chest clenching as he remembers his phone. There had been so many texts and calls all at once, just before Finn had yelled, and he knows that at least Blaine and Mercedes had called. They knew. They all knew, all saw, what Ian had done.

Nausea builds in his stomach and he feels numb. He can't deal with this.

Stumbling to his feet as quickly as he can, Kurt pivots and walks swiftly into his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. With only thoughts of being alone in his mind, he picks up a chair from beside his bed and jams it under the doorknob. Just in case.

"Kurt? Kurt, what are you doing?"

Kurt backs away from the door as his dad twists at the doorknob and then knocks loudly. "Go away," he says, not quite yelling.

Hearing the sound of another call coming through his cell phone, Kurt whirls around and grabs the small device, turning it off and hurling it in the direction of his bed where it lands between his pillows with a soft 'whump'.

"Let me in." The door shakes from the force of the pounding. "Kurt? C'mon buddy, unlock the door."

"Just leave me alone! I need –I need to be alone right now," he trails off, his voice barely a whisper as he finishes.

A sigh can be heard from the other side of the door, and then Kurt hears a soft 'thump' as though someone has leaned into the door. "Okay. But Kurt – you come get me if you need me."

Kurt doesn't reply, turning away from the door to sit on the edge of his bed facing out the window. He's been sitting there for a moment when he hears shifting on the other side of the door, and he turns his head in that direction, waiting.

"Please." The word is strained. "Kurt – promise me you'll come to me if you need anything."

Licking his lips and trying to keep his face composed even though he is alone, Kurt answers, "Yeah, dad. I promise."

He knows he won't, though. His dad has been so supportive, so understanding, and Kurt couldn't wish for a better father to have. But he doesn't want to talk about it with him, doesn't want to be exposed in that way.

Just knowing that it happened, having it in his mind as an abstract thought without any concrete reality beyond the marks on his body, was enough to deal with. But seeing it, seeing himself being violated like that, it makes it even more real somehow.

He's already had to deal with waking up in his boyfriend's dorm room with no memory of the night before, his body covered in marks he can't remember gaining and the horrifying feel of wetness between his legs. The ache of stretched muscle twinging with every movement.

Then there had been the exam in the hospital, where the nurse had combed, swabbed and probed him. All with an officer who he doesn't think he'll ever see again watching.

Clenching his fists into tight balls, Kurt leans forward until he is bent over his knees, breath coming in harshly.

And then there are the blood and urine tests.

He's heard all about STIs in school, read the stories in the newspaper. And now he has to face the reality that he might have contracted something, been given an infection by the asshole who had – had raped him.

He's been avoiding the thought, but he's scared – afraid that in three months when he goes in for that test, the one that no person should ever have to worry over, he'll test positive.

He barely knows Ian. He doesn't know if the man has a history of unsafe sex, if he's been exposed to infection. They didn't get far enough into their relationship – if that's what it was – to have had to ask those kinds of questions.

He thought that Ian had been so wonderful, a great first boyfriend to have. But now he can't stop wondering how much of that was a lie, how much of a fool he had been to believe what they had was real.

He should have seen the signs, known better then to go over to Ian's dorm. Known not to take that drink.

If he had, then maybe he wouldn't be sitting here thinking about the possibility of having HIV.

He doesn't know how long he has been sitting, mind consumed by thoughts, but when he looks up his eyes wander in the direction he threw his phone. He doesn't want to deal with that right now – it's too real, too close and personal. Instead his eyes find his computer, sitting with the screen blank. He has to check at some point. Making his decision, Kurt walks over to the machine, takes a seat and turns on the screen.

There are over 200 messages in his inbox. Kurt's eyes widen as he takes in the names of the senders, some from McKinley, some from Dalton, but almost every person he knows, and some he doesn't, have sent a message.

As he's skimming the list, one in particular catches his eye – it's from Ian.

Kurt's heart starts beating hard in his chest as he brings the cursor to rest over it, and he wonders if maybe he should leave it alone and let the police handle it. But he realizes, as he clicks on the email, he has to know what Ian has sent.

There is a simple message and a file attachment.

You're fuckin' fine, Kurt. Just look at you. I know how self-conscious you are, how you think you aren't sexy, but damn you are amazing. Just watch – you'll see.

Love,

Ian

P.S. I had a great time last night.

The words make him feel dirty, used. They also ignite anger in him, a slow smouldering that makes him want to put his fist into the nearest surface, makes him want to kick and scream.

Clicking back out of the email and to his Inbox, Kurt evens his breathing as best he can, skimming the list of names again. From what he can see almost every person in McKinley and Dalton were sent a copy – he tries not to think of what some of them will do with it.

But some names are missing; a large portion of the Warblers haven't sent a message, and maybe they are too nice to, but Kurt is guessing that they haven't checked their emails yet.

Idea forming in his mind, Kurt stands up fast and crosses the room to where his phone is laying. He doesn't even look at the number of missed calls and text messages when he turns it back on, just dials Blaine's number and waits for him to pick up.

"Kurt! What's going on?"

No 'hello', no attempt to beat around the proverbial bush, just straight to the point. Kurt kind of wishes that Blaine had at least tried.

"I need your help," he says, propping his cell phone between his shoulder and ear as he sits back down at his computer.

"Do you know what –"

"Yes," Kurt says tensely. "I know."

"Are you okay?" Blaine's voice has gone soft, his inflection losing its previous intensity.

Kurt shakes his head minutely as he answers. "No. But I need you to do something for me."

"What?" Blaine asks, and Kurt can hear some other voices in the background.

"Are you in the common room?"

"Yeah," Blaine says, voice drawn out. "Kurt, what is this all about? I mean we get this email and – "

"Just – just do this for me first, okay? And then – and then I'll tell you what you want to know. Okay?"

"Yeah, sure. What ever you need."

Kurt inhales a deep breath, and says, "I need you to do some damage control. Just – can you try and stop people from watching it?"

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine sighs into the phone, his tone sending a wash of ice over Kurt. "I'm sorry, but there aren't many people who haven't. Maybe a few of the guys who don't check their emails often, or who have already gone to bed, but…"

As Blaine's voice trails away, Kurt bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut. Any hope that he had built up falls away, and it leaves him bare.

"I understand," he says. "Can you try, though? Please?"

"Of course. I'll get David and Wes to send out some mass texts while I go around to those who board."

Kurt sniffs lightly, saying, "Thank you."

"Kurt," Blaine begins, hesitation clear, "do you want me to come over? I mean – I don't know what this is all about, but I don't want you to be alone. You're my best friend and I hate it when you're hurting."

Smiling slightly, Kurt closes his eyes and dips his head forward. "Thank you, but – maybe tomorrow?"

Disappointment is almost a tangible entity through the silence on the other side of the line, and it both reminds Kurt of how much he cares for Blaine, and how much Blaine cares for him. "Blaine?" he asks after a moment.

"Yeah. Sure, that's fine."

"Thanks Blaine."

"It's no problem." Before Kurt has a chance to say goodbye, Blaine quickly interjects, "Kurt?"

Opening his eyes and switching his phone to the other ear, Kurt focuses his eyes on his Dalton tie, which is coiled on his dresser. "Yeah?"

Blaine clears his throat. "Call me if you need to talk?"

Huffing out a little breath, Kurt allows the smile on his lips to widen slightly. "I will. Thank you, Blaine."

"You're welcome."

As he hangs up, Kurt realizes that Blaine never pushed to know what had happened, and it makes him even more grateful for ever having met the other boy.

~?~

About half an hour after he gets off the phone with Blaine, Kurt feels the anger and irritation flair in him again, filling him with a kind of nervous, shaky energy. When pacing the short length of his room doesn't do anything to help, Kurt pulls the chair out from under his doorknob and opens his door.

Walking into the kitchen slowly, Kurt looks around to see if anyone is home. He can't decide if it is relief or disappointment that washes over him when he sees Finn sitting at the kitchen table, and he doesn't have a chance to retreat before Finn spots him.

"Hi," says the taller boy. "Burt went to pick my mom up from her shift at the hospital. They should be back in about half an hour."

Kurt nods at Finn and walks to the fridge, opening the door and looking inside without actually seeing. He doesn't really want anything, isn't hungry at all, but he needs something to do. The handle is cold in his palm, and he feels irrational irritation overcome him suddenly, its presence a frustration in itself. Slamming the door closed, Kurt spins around and starts to pace back toward his room, but then sharply turns back around and grasps the edge of the kitchen counter in his hands, hunching down over the expanse of it.

Kurt usually tries to dampen his anger, setting it low and smouldering to direct it toward something productive. But this feeling that is ravishing through him is like a wildfire in the heat of summer, so intense that it makes his limbs tremble.

"Hey man, you okay?"

Kurt spins around at the sound of Finn's voice and leans his hip against the counter. Finn is looking at him with wide eyes, head tilted up toward Kurt.

The power of Kurt's rage shows through in the broken quality of his reply. "No." Short, terse, sharp.

Finn shifts uncomfortably as he watches Kurt. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No," he says again. "I'm pissed, Finn. So angry that I would like nothing more than to scream right now."

"Oh," says Finn, looking away. The bigger boy is silent for a couple of seconds before he turns back toward Kurt. "Why don't you?"

Rolling his eyes in irritation, Kurt asks, "Why don't I what?"

Finn shrugs and says with a hesitant smile, "Scream."

Kurt stares at his stepbrother like he's just proposed something completely insane.

"Go on," says Finn encouragingly. "No one else is home – and, I mean, I can put my head phones in or something. I bet it'll make you feel way better."

Kurt hesitates, but the open and honest way that Finn is trying to help pushes his doubts away. "Okay."

Finn smiles at him largely, his eyes brightening from just knowing that he's done something to help. "Great. I'll just go – I'll just be in the living room." And then he turns and leaves, glancing back twice as though to make sure Kurt is staying behind.

Alone in the kitchen with fury rising and uncoiling in his gut, Kurt is uncertain. It feels stupid to just scream at nothing, almost laughable, but his chest is tight and something powerful is caught in his throat.

Pacing a few steps toward where the fridge is, Kurt breathes in slowly, filling his lungs so completely that they burn. And screams.

The air is ripping through his vocal cords fast and hard, the tension of his throat, the anger, turning the sound high and rough. And God it feels good, like the noise, the way his chest is deflating steadily and his stomach is clenching from the effort, is all working to throw the anger out of him.

When all of his breath has gone he gasps in another and screams again. The way it tears at his throat, causes his face to flush red, is invigorating.

As he is finished releasing his frustration one last time, Kurt gasps in a breath and brings a hand up to touch his cheek. Tears have tracked their way down his face and neck, their paths running wild and slick over him.

Taking in one shuddering breath after another, Kurt shrugs his shoulders to relax the tension there, and straightens his back. As good as it felt to let that out, Kurt knows that it was only a temporary fix, and that soon he'll have to deal with his emotions all over again.

But it worked for now, and considering the circumstances, Kurt will take anything over nothing.