A/N: Sorry this took so long to update! I was at college orientation Tuesday and Wednesday, and Wednesday night I broke my foot and had to leave orientation early to go to the ER. Then yesterday I had to go to an orthopedic specialist and was told I'd be in a boot cast for 4-6 weeks. I worked all morning on this so I hope it's good!

February 15th, 2016

Blaine left for class early in the morning. He didn't know that I'd be calling in sick today, or how numb I felt; too numb to go to class and pay any attention. I just laid in bed for a while, before contacting my professors, staring at the unpainted ceiling and trying to remember and forget at the same time. I didn't want to think about what had happened in the park last night, but I needed to figure out what exactly had happened.

From what I'd heard from female friends, when young women come to college they are warned about the dangers of men. They're told how men will take advantage of and hurt them. I remembered a similar speech, but us males were told how wrong it was to take advantage of and hurt women. I zoned out at the time, so I wouldn't know if maybe they'd told us that sexual harassment and assault is not something only women are subjected to. Maybe they didn't tell us that. Maybe they thought it could only happen to girls; that if a man was hurt like that -by a man or a woman- then they were still wrong. "Girls don't just come onto men who don't want it," I could hear some stern lecturing voice saying. "If you don't want it, there's something wrong with you. If it's a man, you can fight back. If you don't fight them off, you wanted it."

Granted, I had never actually heard that from any speaker at orientation, but I feel like I've heard it all the time on TV, on the news. You never hear of men getting raped. It's always a woman. You hear about how rapists are rarely brought to justice, but when they do, they always raped a woman. Where are the male on male attackers? Are they supposed to be subjected to the same sentence as someone who attacked a woman, or are we just expected to suck it up and move on? Where's their help, their support, their justice?

I had a friend at the bakery who'd done an two-year sentence for marijuana possession -a little excessive, if you ask me. He had something to say on the matter to anyone who would listen. I did gladly. He was a good kid, my age, a strong build he said he'd gotten behind bars. He was nice to me, something a lot of guys outside a few at school weren't.

"Guys in prison get raped all the time," he told me as we worked a slow shift. He was wiping down a counter, I was refilling the napkin dispensers. "You never hear about it, though. We're just expected to take it; they think we're all scum anyway. But it's not just in jail. I have a buddy who was attacked when he was sixteen, and when he tried to tell the police, they didn't believe him. They never even looked for the girl who did it. Yeah, a girl. Girls assault guys too, but when the dude tries to say anything about it, they're not taken seriously. I helped him through it. He cried a lot -he had nightmares almost every night, and worried that they were right and that it was his fault. I'd tell him that was bullshit. He was attacked and whether or not the police were gonna do anything about it, that didn't change the fact that she had done wrong. Too many people believe men can't be raped, and that women can't be rapists."

But Blaine was a man. More than that, he was my boyfriend of almost five years. I was supposed to keep him sexually satisfied, wasn't I? That's what he'd told me. I guess that part was in the fine print of the metaphorical contract we'd signed when we'd gotten together, when we moved in together, or whenever. Maybe he'd added that in later and I never would've noticed. That was probably my fault, for not acknowledging his needs. With all he'd done for me, I owed him, maybe..?

I thought back to Nicky, my formerly incarcerated friend. Shortly before I quit the job at the bakery, I tentatively asked him what had happened to his friend. He had sighed and told me that he'd been treated like he was a horrible person for "trying to get a sweet girl in trouble." His parents had shunned him, and he'd lost all his friends besides Nicky. All that, combined with the lingering nightmares and the knowledge that his attacker was seen as a hero in all of this, had become too much.

Nicky had invited me to visit his friend's grave with him. I wanted to say yes, but Blaine said no. I told him another time. That other time never came.

I got up to get a drink of water. I grabbed a cup from the counter with shaking hands and filled it up at the sink. I gulped it down and let out a loud breath once I'd finished. I braced myself on the counter and let my head fall. I stared down into the drain in the sink. I wondered how far down it went...

I remembered the card that Dr. Calvin had given me. It remained in the pocket of my jacket for over a year now, and I only really ever thought about it when I was wearing it. It felt much heavier than a little business card would be, and when I had it on me, I was always well aware of it. I felt sort of guilty when I had it with me when Blaine was around. It felt like I was betraying him by just carrying something around that could imply he was abusing me.

But right then, Blaine wasn't home. He'd hurt me on Valentine's Day of all days, but insisted that it was entirely justified and I should stop being a prude. But it had hurt, physically and, to a degree, emotionally. Blaine had hurt me before, but never like that, and never in that spot.

I slowly moved to my closet and took the jacket down. I slipped my hand carefully, as if disabling a bomb, into the right pocket. I pulled it out and looked it over.

It must have been an hour that I debated whether or not to call the number given. I didn't wanna betray Blaine like that, but I needed to know what had happened. I didn't know what I would think if I were to find out that Blaine -the love of my life- really had sexually assaulted me, but ignorance is not bliss, it's torture.

The woman who answered the phone was very nice and understanding. She was patient with my timid voice and listened to whatever I needed to say. After I mentioned about five times how I didn't want to be making this call, I finally mentioned sexual assault. "Okay, sweetheart," -I secretly did appreciate when strangers used pet names with me, when they genuinely meant it, even though Blaine hated it- "I'm gonna redirect you to an organization that deals exclusively with sexual assault and abuse, okay?"

I nodded, as if she could see me, but she must have seen it in her mind's eye since she told me things would be okay, and all of a sudden the phone was ringing on the other side again.

"Hello hun, you've reached Oasis, how can I help you?"

The voice was male and strangely familiar. "H-Hi, I... I don't know if I should really be calling this number. I'm not sure what happened to me, and I don't wanna take time away from people who are certain they were assaulted-"

"No, hun, don't be like that. I'm here to help you -I want to help you. Can you tell me what happened?"

I took a deep breath against the constriction in my chest. "Um... Well, last night, my boyfriend took me out for Valentine's Day. We went to a fancy restaurant and went to the park. He... He said I don't satisfy him often enough, and that I should.. let loose and st-stop being a prude..."

"It's okay," he assured me calmly, soothingly, so I guess he heard me start to cry on the other end. "It's not your fault. You aren't a prude; it's your body, and only you get to decide what to do with it. He assaulted you, and tried to play it off like it was your fault. It is not your fault, it's his fault for hurting you."

I didn't know what to think hearing that what had happened was assault. I could've been either relieved to not have to wonder, or felt ten times worse hearing that Blaine would do something like that to me.

"Is this the first time he's done something like this?" His voice was cool, and it cooled me down, too.

I sucked in a breath and shook my head, again, as if the person on the other end could see it. "No... Um, well, kinda, I guess.. yeah. But... back in Lima, we were at a gay bar one night and after he spent the night dancing with another guy, he got me in the car and tried to make me lose my virginity to him then and there.. Then he told me that he was just trying to be spontaneous and fun, and was unable to see why what he had done had hurt me." That was the first time I'd ever spoken about that. I'd never told anyone -not my family, not my friends, not anybody.

There was a long pause. I thought for a moment that he had hung up, and was about to throw my phone across the room in frustration, until ".. Kurt?"

I froze up. How did he know my name? Did they have caller ID and the numbers to everyone in the city? Wasn't this supposed to be confidential? "Y-Yes..? Who is this?"

"It's Dave. Dave Karofsky."

My eyes went wide, and this time I was lucky my reaction couldn't be seen over the phone. "Dave? W-Wow, you... you work for a sexual assault hotline?"

"Yeah. I'm working on getting a degree in counseling at City College. This is a sort of internship-slash-volunteer project. I... I can't believe it's you... Blaine's hurt you? He's hurting you?"

His voice sounded a bit frantic now, as if he wasn't genuinely concerned before, now I guess he was personally invested.

"I... yeah..." I hated saying this. I'd never told anyone I actually knew.

"Oh god..." He sounded almost devastated now.

I heard the door open and panicked. "I-I'll call back, okay?" I hung up before he could reply.

A/N: Another familiar face! Please review and I'll have the next chapter up soon -I promise! - xx Litsy Kalyptica