Disclaimer: I don't own anything!
A/N: I do not represent TWLOHA or their views. I tried my best to represent what I know them as, though. I can only hope that this chapter mildly does this subject or anything else justice. Again, if I approached anything wrong, please let me know so I can correct myself or fix the chapter. Thank you for all of the feedback that you have given this story. I hope that you like this chapter.
Chapter 11: Left Behind
Monday afternoon, Kurt picked up the phone with the intent to call Mercedes Jones, but the phone felt like deadweight in his hands, his arms shook violently, and he was nauseated at the thought of calling someone to reveal his current self.
Monday night Kurt boy laid on his back in bed and starred at the ceiling for several hours, lost in his own thoughts.
In the distance, he could hear a scream and see the blue emergency lights flash in the hallway.
He rolled over onto his stomach with a deep sigh and wished that he could simply fall asleep. His eyes felt heavy and his throat felt dry, but every time his body began to feel like it was floating on a cloud, he jolted himself awake.
He briefly wished that the sleeping pills worked as well as the bottle claimed they did, but the boy brushed off the thought, because it was hardly a new one.
He wondered if finding the words to say to Mercedes would allow him to fall asleep. Finding no other option, rolled out of bed, as he suddenly felt wide awake, and went into the bottom drawer of his dresser. He pulled out a notebook and fine-tipped marker and sat down against the wall, not turning on a light because he didn't want to alert and any of the night nursing staff of his late night.
He sat on the edge of his bed and wrote with his exquisite handwriting:
Dear Mercedes and Tina,
You've probably been wondering where I went.
Kurt ripped the sheet out of his notebook and started a new letter/
Dear Mercedes,
Years of bullying added depression finally got to me, and last November I attempted suicide for the first time. In an instant, I became a survivor and was taken Lima Genera Hospital, where l was in urgent care for three days. Later, I was moved to a psychiatric hospital where I am currently in treatment for a variety of different reasons.
I am sorry that I did not contact you sooner. I wanted to, but I would not be able to deal with your response if it was not was I wanted to hear in the moment that I heard it, before now. I am not sure that I am prepared to respond- but if I don't tell you now, I don't think that I ever will. This is entirely my fault and I will try my hardest to accept your response if you are not able to forgive me, but I hope that you will.
Last weekend, I left the facility for the day with a new friend and ran into Rachel and I told her what happened. I asked her not to talk to you about anything, because I wanted to tell you myself. Please do not blame Rachel.
Also, please do not discuss this information with anyone else (besides for Rachel and the McKinley High School faculty, who already know). This is something that I need to deal with on my own and without gossip, drama, and judging eyes.
I would really like to talk to you.
RSVP, or don't, but if you do, please respond with your phone number, so I can call you (I can make calls out, but not receive them here).
Sincerely,
Kurt
The next morning, Kurt met with Dr. Jackie.
"Please don't read this letter." Kurt said as he bit his lip, "It would be awkward if you did."
"I'm sorry Kurt, but Green Meadows procedure says that I have to," Dr. Jackie replied. "If there's anything in there that will lead us to suspect something, then we need to see it. There could be something about running away or talks of more suicide attempts. I know that you're a Level One, but we can't risk it."
Kurt hated the "we" statement- it made it sound like he had some sort of control, when he felt like he had none.
The teen winced, but his will to send the letter was greater than his anxiety.
"In the past, there have been talks of giving away prized possessions, happiness after long bouts of sadness, telling someone their plans to attempt suicide, telling an important person goodbye, and general tones of how a person is doing emotionally. You know that these are signs that someone might be contemplating suicide," Dr. Jackie paused. "Also, there could be talks of meeting up with someone, messages to previous drug dealers, bad influences, people patients should not be talking to, etcetera. I know that these probably do not apply to you at this point, but I cannot ignore the potential that there might be."
Kurt bit his lip again, but nodded anyway.
"What made you write a letter to you friend?" Dr. Jackie asked, changing her tone.
"Mercedes," Kurt offered his Glee club mate's name.
"What was going on inside your head when you wrote this letter to Mercedes?"
"I couldn't sleep again last night," Kurt admitted. "It's not like that too much, anymore, I promise." The boy added quickly before the doctor could suggest a change of medicine regiment.
"I ran into Rachel, from Glee Club at the Lima Bean and I told her some things. I don't want to put pressure on her to keep my secret of being here. And I've been talking with Blaine. That's been helping a lot…" Kurt began to talk, while Dr. Jackie listened, asked questions, and took detailed notes.
After her session with Kurt was over, Dr. Jackie looked over the letter from Kurt to Mercedes.
Tuesday, Kurt regretted sending the letter. How could be so stupid? How could he tell someone everything about what had happened to him? How did he know that Mercedes wasn't going to tell everyone? How did he know that Mercedes wasn't going to open her big mouth?
Kurt didn't know. And he squirmed with anxiety due to the uncomforting thoughts.
Wednesday, Kurt thought about the letter, but he had a long homework session in the morning and an art therapy session in the afternoon.
Lilly slid into a plastic chair next to him.
"Hey Kurt," Lilly said.
"Hey Lilly," Kurt looked up from the paper tablecloth and markers scattered about it, "I haven't seen you in a few days."
"Yeah, I've been in intense therapy with my parents and therapists deciding what to do after I leave here."
"I hate having that conversation."
Lilly sighed dramatically. "Tell me about it."
"So what's the top contender?"
"A group home for 'girls like me' in West Virginia." Lilly made quotation marks with her fingers.
"That's not even the bad part. It's like, I don't have any say in it."
"It's like we screw up once and we're stripped of all our rights, locked up like children at a day care, where we live by a specific schedule, have no choice in what we're fed, and we're just waiting for our parents to come and pick us up when they're done with the job and other family that they like more than us."
"Exactly!" Lilly agreed. "I'm not a child. I have Bi-Polar Disorder."
"The two are not synonymous for each other." Kurt agreed, as a knobby brunette woman with hair that was in dire need of a hair salon, bottle-cap glasses, a mismatched skirt, and knitted sweater walked into the room.
"Good evening everyone! I hope you brought your creative thinking caps, because today we are sculpting with clay!" The woman announced as she set down a large block of clay.
Thursday, Kurt called Blaine.
"Hi Blaine, it's Kurt."
"Hey Kurt."
"How are you?" Kurt asked.
"Not bad. Relieved that this midterm is done with and that next week is spring break. I need it."
"I bet." Kurt agreed.
"So are we still on for Saturday?" Blaine asked. "We can go to the bookstore that I was telling you about."
"Absolutely." Kurt confirmed, his chest actually aching that the thought of seeing Blaine and being able to breath fresh air again. He hadn't felt an ache to be out of here before. Maybe, it was because he hadn't realized what he was missing.
The conversation fell into a calm sense of familiarity, as the two teens lost track of time.
Friday, Kurt was eating lunch in the cafeteria, when a nurse in salmon scrubs came up to him.
"Kurt Hummel?" the nurse asked.
Kurt turned around. "Yes?"
"You have a letter," she handed the boy an opened purple envelope addressed to him in glowing, lime green jelly roll pen in Mercedes' big, bold, all-caps handwriting.
Kurt set down the plastic utensil in his hand carefully pulled the letter out of the envelope. Slowly, he pulled out the letter and took a deep breath before opening it.
The letter read:
Hey Boo,
I get that bullying was really bad, but I wish that you HAVE talked to us. We could have helped you. I know that we don't really talk about the bullying much, but that's because it hurts to think too much about, but obviously we SHOULD HAVE TALKED ABOUT OUR FEELINGS MORE (AND SHOULD IN THE FUTURE).
I know that New Directions was always hypothetically a good place to confront everything, but we were never as open as we said we were or wanted to be. We said that we were a place to be who you were, but we judged all of the time. We all judged.
With your permission, I would like to talk to Tina about this. I think that she would have some helpful INSIGHT. Would that be okay?
Love and hugs,
Mercedes
Kurt finished his food at a speed that would put Finn to shame and dashed to his room.
Mercy,
Please do not talk to Tina yourself. Like you and Rachel, I wish to tell her what happened myself.
When I tell her and if she responds reasonably, I will try and listen to her incite.
How have you been? How is McKinley?
Hugs,
Kurt
Kurt put the letter in an envelope and dashed to Dr. Jackie's office with hope that she had not left for the day. He wanted to get it to Mercedes as soon as possible.
Despite the yells of the hospital staff to slow down, the boy had succeeded- the doctor was just walking out of her office for the day, briefcase in hand.
"Another letter?" Dr. Jackie peered over the brim of her glasses.
Kurt nodded. "Yes."
The doctor's faint smile made the boy smile faintly too.
"That's good. I'll be out tomorrow, but how about you research and think about alternative ideas for when you leave Green Meadows and we'll talk about it on Sunday. Then, when your dad comes in next Tuesday, we can discuss options together."
Kurt nodded again. "Have a good weekend, Dr. Jackie."
"You too, Kurt. Remember to be patient when explaining your circumstances and not running at the first sign of trouble- some people need to warm up to these ideas, they need to know the situation to understand it."
Kurt looked down at his shoes, then back up at the doctor, "Thanks," he offered the doctor a smile as she turned and walked out.
Saturday morning, Kurt found himself on The Dalton Academy's website on the patient computer, boxed beneath layers of protection and under the careful watch of a guard. It felt weird, using a keyboard again, but it was like riding a bike, and he picked it up quickly. He avoided email, but it was inevitable that he would think about it, being on a computer.
Glancing at the time in the top, right corner, the teen closed the Internet and dashed to the front lobby, where his friend was waiting for him.
"Hey Kurt!" Blaine smiled.
"Hey Blaine," Kurt smiled back.
Blaine held his arm out and signaled to the desk in front of him to Kurt, who signed out and was handed the standard patient's phone.
The two boys made their way to the front lobby and checked out, before getting in Blaine's car.
"So you know that I have been studying like crazy this week- what have you been doing?" Blaine glanced over at Kurt with a grimace and then goofy grin and quickly glanced back at the road.
"I wrote to my friend Mercedes, back at McKinley this week." Kurt confessed. "I explained to her what happened and asked for her forgiveness. She wrote back." Kurt said
"That must have meant something," Blaine replied, the words sinking in upon realization that a response must have meant something to Kurt.
"I know." Kurt agreed.
"Anything else?" Blaine asked, as he turned down a road that looked familiar, but Kurt could not quite place. Blaine turned into a crumbling driveway with a dark, polished, wood building with new windows and yellow lamps and bookshelves visible from the front window.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking about where I want to go when I finally leave. And I have no fucking clue." Kurt said, even though in the back of his mind, he might have.
"Kurt, I hope that I don't sound too forward, but have you looked at Dalton? I know that it has a hefty price tag for most families, but Dalton prides itself on having the best financial aid packages in the state. I really think that you should check out the website and maybe take a tour."
Kurt took in the words, but decided to step out of the car and up to the bookstore door, so that he would not have to respond.
"Where are we?" Kurt blinked and pulled the door that said 'push' before grumbling and pushing the door open.
Blaine followed the chestnut- haired boy in.
"Just outside Columbus." Blaine replied.
Kurt's eyes widened, "We drove that far?" he asked.
Blaine nodded. "We're pretty close to Westerville, which is why I know of this place. And as it turns out, we're not that far from Green Meadows, either."
Kurt nodded.
"This place is awesome." Blaine looked around, like he knew the place and was contemplating where to look first. They have an amazing coffee bar in the back and the best selection of used books in Ohio."
"It looks amazing, but you're biased." Kurt teased.
Blaine shrugged with a goofy smile. "So what if I am?"
Kurt looked around and spotted a copy of a book that he had wanted to read. Then, he spotted another book. And another.
Blaine smiled at his excited friend. "How about we each look around and meet at the coffee bar in a half hour for drinks?"
"Sounds good." Kurt mumbled as a side-thought and wandered around a towering shelf of books.
Kurt looked up. The two story entrance walls were lined with built-in bookshelves lined with old books. There were old tables and desks with featured books. Above, there was a railing on the half-second floor of the building with giant, green leather chairs and a children's story area.
Kurt spotted painted wooden signs handing from the ceiling and hanging in appropriate places, labeling the different areas.
Kurt spotted 'Gay Literature' and curiously made his was over. He didn't consider himself an expert in the subject, but he had read a couple of books. Mostly, he didn't touch them. He didn't know if he could handle someone finding them and having more ways to judge- he felt like a coward.
Crouching down, looking at titles, and gliding her finder along the books, an Asian girl with a blue screak in her hair, and Kurt did a double take before gasping the girl's name. "Tina?"
The girl turned her head around and blinked. "Kurt?"
"Yes, hi."
"You're- oh wow- you're here! You're alive! You're- um-" The girl stood up and wrapped her arms around the lean boy. The boy shrugged at first, but then became comfortable and hugged the girl back.
"I am."
"What're you doing here?"
"Look at books, obviously. What about you?"
"Lima doesn't have this kind of selection. Seriously, Lima had a ban on like 50 of the must read 'Gay Literature' books. I mean, I don't think that I'm full-on Bi, but I'm definitely questioning and I want to know about this culture and these people and their history. It's almost like my history, you know? And don't get me started on the classics and manga that they've ban." The girl sighed. "I order online a lot, but nothing can replace a good bookstore."
"That's Lima and I agree." Kurt sighed.
"I know." Tina agreed. "So narrow- minded."
Kurt nodded. "You're telling me."
"Find anything good?" Tina asked curiously.
"Tons! I don't even know where to start! Besides, I have six months worth of un-touched allowances." Kurt cupped his mouth.
"Kurt, you don't have to answer me, but I am curious about where you have been- everyone is. For being gone and so frequently rejected, you sure know how to be the center of gossip. I mean, it's faded, but you left a gap in- I can't say in everyone in Lima- but for Mercedes, Rachel, Finn, Carol, your dad, and me."
Kurt took a deep breath and prepared to tell the story that he had told. With a swallow, he told his story.
The Asian girl watched the boy with great intensity and listened to the story without saying a word. Upon finishing the story, there was a moment of silence before the girl spoke.
"I used to cut myself." The girl said quietly and in to the air.
The boy's eyes widened. The confession or the girl it was coming from didn't shock him, but rather that someone at McKinley could even marginally understand where he was coming from or what happened to him. Maybe, he decided, it was based off who the girl usually hung out with at school.
The boy did not respond immediately. Instead, he took a few moments to assemble his words. He couldn't bring himself to find the words that he wanted to say. Instead, he asked. "How long ago did you stop?"
"Five months ago." The girl looked down at her shoes, then up into the eyes of the boy, as if remembering to make eye contact when talking about something serious. "You can ask about it, if you want."
"How did you stop cutting?"
"I- I kept having breakdowns in the girls bathroom. After many missed classes, news of them made their way to Ms. Pillsbury via Quinn and the gossip chain. Ms. Pillsbury recommended that I start seeing my psychologist again, whom I stopped seeing after I stopped stuttering and joined Glee club, but then he sent me to the psychiatrist and started me on anti-depressants. A few months ago, one of my online ShowChoir! Fan fiction friends talked about this organization To Write Love On Her Arms or TWLOHA on her Tumblr. I don't know how to describe the organization, but they say that help exists and hope is possible even in the dark- they have bands and young adults who support them- you should really go on to their website and read their vision and story."
(A/N: If you have not read or are not familiar with the TWLOHA 'vision statement' or 'story', please take the time read them! Links are on my profile.)
Kurt nodded and another moment of silence fell upon the two teens.
"Kurt?"
"Yeah?"
"There's this guy in a Dalton Academy sweatshirt who keeps looking over here at us. I don't know what to think."
"Oh." Kurt blushed. "That's Blaine, my friend, who I came here with."
"He's cute." Tina smiled, but not in the 'I want him way', but in the 'if he has a good personality, you should date him' way.
Kurt looked down into his friend's eyes. "I want to."
"Then what's keeping you from making a move?"
"We're getting there!" Kurt protested with a playful smile.
"Kurt? I don't want to keep you from Blaine, but can you promise me something?" Tina shifted nervously.
Kurt didn't want to make a promise that he couldn't keep, but he found himself saying that he would anyways, "Sure."
"I can't lose another person to suicide. I know that asking you to keep a promise probably is pointless and that mental illness is serious and can control even the strongest people, but please know that you are an amazing boy, and even though I'm sometimes just a shallow teenage girl, I do want the to help my friends when they're hurting- and Mercedes and Rachel do to, okay?"
Kurt nodded and leaned in to give Tina a tight hug.
"Also know that more people are affected by mental illness than you think- one and four people are- and deny it all you want, but people at McKinley high school are too. This is a human condition- not a gay one- but bullying because you are gay might be an external factor- 'you are meant to love and be loved', Boo."
"Thank you," He murmured into his friend's melon scented hair.
"No problem." Tina hugged Kurt back, before releasing him. "See you later Kurt," she turned around and wandered out of the bookstore.
Blaine approached Kurt.
"Was that a McKinley girl?" Blaine asked.
Kurt nodded. "Tina," he supplied her name.
Blaine nodded. "Ready to get coffee?"
"G-d, yes." Kurt agreed, at the two friends hurried to the café section of the bookstore.
"I'll order for you, if you want to go get us a table."
Kurt raised an eyebrow; secretly giddy that Blaine already knew his order. "Okay."
Kurt claimed a table in the corner and looked around the café, at the menu on the wall, and the covers of various books signed by authors who had visited the bookstore hanging on walls.
Blaine made his way over with two coffee mugs and set one down in front of Kurt, before dashing back and returning with a small plate with a large, buttery croissant cut in half on it.
"Try some." Blaine nodded to Kurt, who hesitantly picked up a piece.
"I've always wanted to go to France." Kurt admitted as he took another bite, "Call me a romantic, but the thought of dinner in France makes me swoon."
"France is beautiful, especially the countryside." Blaine agreed.
"Hey," Kurt said into thin-air, "Your phone has internet, right?"
"Yes." Blaine confirmed.
"Can I borrow it?"
"Sure," Blaine pulled his Blackberry from his back pocket and typed in the passcode before handing it to Kurt.
"Tina told me to check out this website called 'To Write Love On Her Arms', an organization that supports depression, addiction, healing through merchandise, music, etcetera. She said to read the 'vision' and 'story', as well as look around the website."
"Do you mind if I read it with you?" Blaine asked.
"Not at all." Blaine moved his chair next to Kurt's chair, their elbows bumping, and their cheeks turning fuchsia as they moved and settled in.
Together, the two boys read the stories, slowly but steadily, and took everything in.
"You are not alone, and this is not the end of your story." Blaine whispered the concluding line to Kurt.
A single tear streamed down Kurt's cheek. Blaine took his thumb and whipped it away.
"Give me your wrist," Blaine said as he reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a navy blue Sharpie.
"W-what?" Kurt asked.
"Can I please have your wrist?"
Kurt considered Blaine's request for a moment, before complying and gently setting his wrist on the table.
Blaine carefully rolled up Kurt's shirtsleeve up to his elbow and then carefully pushed the gauze up a couple of inches.
Kurt winced, not from pain, but from what Blaine's reactions might be to his scars.
Blaine did not see the scars covered by the bandages, but he did see two thick, bumpy scars across Kurt's wrist. They were still dark and had not healed. Doing the mental math of the timeline in his head, Blaine realized that the cuts must have been deep, because they were still not healed all the way. Even though blood was absent, Blaine could imagine it.
"After the second suicide attempt in the hospital, my wrists got infected and the infection kept coming back, which is why they look the way that they do." Kurt admitted.
Blaine pulled the cap off the sharpie and stuck it on the other end, before carefully picking up Kurt's wrist and in large, upper case cursive wrote 'LOVE' on Kurt's arm.