I'm really sorry about not updating for a long time. I've just been REALLY busy, but I'm going to update a whole lot in the next few days, 'cause I start school on Thursday, and I want to get as much in as possible. Okay, so the Hevans is coming in this chap! Look forward to it! Sam's POV…

I'm a good liar, alright? I am. Over the years, I have learned.

"Sam!" It was that light, airy voice I loved. Kurt. My Kurt.

"Hey!" I think I jumped about a foot in the air, but I couldn't tell if I was just making myself think that, of if it was real.

His brows furrowed. I was confused. "Are you okay? You seem a little… jumpy…"

Apparently, yes. I inwardly cursed myself for it, too.

"Well… it's sorta been the backlash from that girls' bathroom thing," I lied again.

There was this thing about Kurt. He was harder to lie to. I don't know if that's because I love him and I hate lying to him, or if it's because he sees right through most of them.

He smiled a little. "Yeah. Girls on the right. Guys on the left."

I laughed, for real. It was so easy with Kurt. Even if he didn't know I was lying before that, he knew I was being genuine right then. "I could say that they were both boys' at my old school, but I've been here for two years so…" I pried a smile onto my face. A smile kind of felt weird, a real smile, that is. It was like trying to open something that's been closed for too long and it's long since rusted shut.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're taking this lightly." He jokingly punched my arm, and it wasn't hard at all. Just barely a touch, and I was nearly on the floor writhing on the pain. But I couldn't. Not in front of my boyfriend.

"Y-yeah…" I managed to say, both the laugh and the smile gone.

The clear, resounding bell cut the moment. I was…Kill me if you want for saying this but… saved by the bell.

"Hey, come over and we'll work on that Spanish homework!" Kurt called, swept up in the crowd that nearly carried him to his next class.

I wouldn't come over that night, and when he offered to come to my house, I'd have to say no again. Maybe I was compromising a world of things that I could've loved, but it was too risky to just go gallivanting across the countryside with my boyfriend while my father was at home waiting for me with another one of his 'toys'.

I shuddered, and walked back into the cafeteria. It was empty. Not even the dishwashers lingered. But there was a terrified blonde girl who sat at the table in the exact middle. And I sat next to her.

She wasn't crying, she was smiling actually, but I think she was close to tears. So close. "We need to tell them, Sammy." She choked. Through this whole thing she'd been stronger than I was, but now I felt like I needed to help her out. She was trembling. Fast. Hard. Whimpering like no tomorrow.

"Britt, calm down. You're okay." I reached to rub her back, but she quickly flinched around and swatted my hand away.

"Don't you see I'm not?!" She yelled, and for some reason I wasn't scared, nor was I offended. "This is happening to me, and on top of that I'm keeping this secret. It's just… debilitating!"

Okay, I never thought Brittany would use a word that I didn't know the meaning to. Wow.

"But we're going through this together, Britt, c'mon. you promised you'd…"

"I know what I promised, but I'm on the edge right now! Sam, I need to tell her." She peeled her teary face from her hands and looked up at me. I reluctantly nodded.

The lying had gotten easier and harder at the same time. It was becoming easier and easier to tell Kurt I had football injuries, but harder to have the weight of it to carry around. So, Brittany Pierce was right—another thing I never thought I would say—and I needed to get this out of my system.

"Trust me, Sam, Kurt'll understand. Trust me. And I know Santana will, too." I was skeptical, and I think she caught that look in my eyes. "She's not from Lima Heights. It's just a joke." Britt smiled a bit and shook her head. "She just took karate or boxing or something, and she keeps razors in her hair for no reason."

I nodded, not really following, but oh well. "Okay. Fine. I'll do it. On one condition."

She groaned and banged her head on the table. "I'm not making out with you Sam."

I looked at her in confusion. "Umm… No, I was just gonna ask if we could do it together, you know, we tell them at the same time." And besides that, I was pretty sure—no absolutely sure—that I was gay.

"Tomorrow's good then?" She asked it nonchalantly, too, as if we were planning to go get falafels or ice cream or hot dogs or something.

I nearly threw up at the thought of what I was about to do. "I won't be here tomorrow. I'm going to Kurt's tonight. And that's…" I trailed off.

"Grounds for punishment?" I was shocked. My father's exact words. I couldn't believe it. "Yeah, my dad says the same thing."

"When I get back," I said finally, after staring at her for at least five minutes straight. I mean, even I didn't know how long I'd be locked in the closet that time. Especially if he knew that I was out with Kurt.

I don't know why I did it, but I think I do.

I love Kurt an awful lot. Even more than I hate my father or hate being punished. So, I did that for him. He may never know my sacrifice, but all that's important is that I was there with him, for him, letting him help me. I need to hold up my end of the relationship too.

Spanish words swam in my head the first night in the closet.

Abusado-Abused

Golpear-Hit

Cinturòn-Belt

This is absolute freaking crazy.

And Kurt, my Kurt, he doesn't even know.

Wow I am going to bed now. I was shopping with my buds all day yesterday, and now I am tired! We stayed up until like 2 am talking (not that I don't normally stay up that that) and I had barely any sleep the night before. So, as I like to say to bffs and fam:

Please do not hold me accountable for anything I do under the influence of sleep deprivation.

Please review, and thanks for reviewing! I try to respond to the people the people that do. If I haven't, I'm sorry… I haven't been on FF.N in like two whole days which is a lot for me 'cause usually I'm on like every two hours.