This chapter took a little longer to get right. There is a lot of back and forth dialogue, I hope that it reads easily for you.
The chapter was becoming quite long, so I ended it slightly earlier - I think that it's a natural place, you may not agree!
All medical terms and procedures are accurate to the best of my knowledge.
This chapter will introduce a few other key characters to the story.
While the story is written in Australian/British English, dialogue and thoughts are in US English, simply because they are American characters and that is how they would speak/think.
Somethings may not be very clear in this chapter, I only ask for your patience, it will all become clearer soon.
No additional warnings for this chapter.
Beta'd by the truly wonderful Bellegenana - without her, I would still be pulling my hair out over this chapter!
NOTE - The Prologue and first chapter have now been BETA'D and there are some major changes in the first chapter, please go back and re-read because it's important changes. Mostly changed from the point where Kurt is in the ER and a minor change during the attack.
Disclaimer - I don't own Glee or it's characters, I'm merely borrowing them for my own amusement.
Re-Uploaded because I'm a bit of a dolt and mixed up some of the hand squeezes! Thanks so much for the people who pointed that out to me! Hope this is better! :D
Where we left off - Kurt had been attacked outside of his home. Having had enough, he attempted to commit suicide. Burt found him and he was taken to hospital and now Kurt is in a coma.
Kurt thought that perhaps he was wrong about the 'afterlife'. Maybe there is a hell, and he's now in the fifth or sixth level, surely. He didn't know what to expect after he died, his atheist beliefs certainly did not support the belief in heaven or hell, so he certainly didn't expect there to be fluffy soft clouds with angels waiting for him with his harp and long white robe, but he also didn't expect to be in this much pain. If he was being honest, he didn't expect anything, just a sudedensudden change from once breathing to nothing, no more Kurt, ceasing to exist. But this? This was torture.
He felt as though a thousand burning hot needles were being driven into his arms, their fiery tips sitting just beneath the surface, tormenting him. He wanted to scratch them out, but found that his body felt pinned, as though something was forcing him down, preventing him from moving. There were points around his body that felt as though they were being crushed by a house. His wrist and his shoulders felt like someone had encased a giant's hands in concrete and now it was slowly grinding their hands against those parts of his body, trying to crush him into dust. He had to assume this was how poor Nessarose felt when that girl dropped her house on her.
He wanted to call out to someone, wanted to run away and escape this pain, but the pressure on his body was suffocating. When he tried to move, he felt as if his stomach had been wrenched in the opposite direction, as though he was riding the world's fiercest rollercoaster. It was enough that he wanted to vomit. Kurt started to panic, the suffocation, the paralysis; it was all far too reminiscent of the attacks. He tried to struggle, he wanted to throw his head back and scream for help, but the minor movement he did manage only caused a blinding white hot pain that seemed to burst from inside of his head. It felt as if a apocalypse had gone off in his brain, mushroom cloud and all, creating more and more pressure as it was trapped against the inside of his skull.
It was during this unbearable torture that Kurt thought he heard someone speak, but he couldn't be sure, he didn't know what was real anymore. The pain was the only thing on the forefront of his mind.
"Is he having another seizure?" A panicked voice had asked.
Did he know this person? Who would panic in hell for him? He knew his mother would never be here, and no one else seemed to care any longer. Although, he wouldn't care if it was the devil himself, so long as some of the physical pain would just recede for a few seconds. Anything for just a moment's peace.
"Possibly, we won't know until we can get him sedated and in for an ECG." Replied a calm voice, as he felt one of the flaming needles wiggle up his arm, with what felt like a minor fire blazing under his skin.
The words didn't make sense to Kurt. They sounded as though they were whispered on the opposite side of a glass wall while he was underwater. Maybe I'm a fish? Was the last coherent thought he had before he felt himself slipping away as the pain abated to a bearable level.
Kurt didn't know how long he had been subjected to the torture. It seemed to come and go in waves of intensity. When it was at the most severe seemed to be when he also had the most clarity. It was bitterly unfair, but perhaps that's what Hell was all about. He wanted answers, but as soon as he was able to form a question to ask, the pain came ripping through his body, blocking anything else from his senses.
He tried to concentrate; he thought that if he could push the pain to the back of his mind, maybe he would be able to figure out what was going on. So Kurt started multiplying again. It was unbelievably difficult, the last thing his mind wanted to do was maths while he was being tortured, but not Kurt had become an expert of detachment over the years of bullying he'd been subjected too.
6, 250 x 500 = 3, 125, 000; 6, 250 x 500 = 3, 131, 250; 6, 250 x 502 = 3, 137, 500; 6, 250 x 503 = 3, 143, 750…
It took a long time, longer than usual, but then he was in more pain than he'd ever been subjected to before. But it started to work; at least he thought it did. He became aware of sounds around him. They didn't make any sense to him, and again, they were muffled as though he was underwater. It took all of his concentration to keep the pain at bay, keep multiplying and also, try to hear what was around him. He could hear strange beeping sounds and whispered words, he strained to hear them. If he could hear what was going on around him, maybe he could figure out where he was.
"It's quite unusual, the wounds are healing very quickly, much more quickly than we could have predicted. The ECG scans show an increase in his brain wave activity that coincides with the seizures. We are not completely sure what this could mean, but hopefully it means that he is coming out of it."
Are they talking about me?
At that moment, Kurt felt a new pressure on his hand, warmth as though someone was gripping his hand. He clung to it with all the strength he could muster, hoping that whoever or whatever it was would help pull him out of this black pain. He felt more than heard the flurry of movement around him, not knowing if it was a way to inflict more pain, he gripped the hand tighter as though it was a lifeline.
"He's definitely gripping it!" came an excited voice, "Kurt, if you can hear me, please, just open your eyes!"
Kurt thought this was a strange request, his eyes were open and all he could see was the blackness suffocating him. Oh! What if I'm blind? He thought with despair. It was his one true secret fear, blindness. He always knew that he would never be able to cope if his world turned forever dark. With this realisation, he clung as hard as he could to the hand, trying to pull himself out of whatever this hell was.
An undermined amount of time passed, and Kurt could feel himself weakening, his grip on the hand going slack. He tried to fight it, he really did, but he was just so tired. So he let himself drift back off to sleep, promising that he would try again when he woke up.
When Kurt next became aware, it was different again, he couldn't feel any pain, his mind was remarkably clear. He felt a presence wrap around him even though there was no physical touch. In an instant, Kurt felt safe. He didn't hear the words; it was more though they were communicating telepathically. He felt her thoughts enter his subconscious, he clung to them, he needed them.
Baby, you need to go back.
Back where?
Back to your father, he needs you.
I don't want to! I want to go with you! I miss you Mom!
I miss you too darling, but you are still needed by them.
By who? No one cares about me! Dad doesn't even speak to me anymore! I'm invisible.
Baby, your Dad cares more than you know – I promise it will be different.
I don't want to back to that. It's bad Mom.
I know baby, I wish more than anything that I could still be there for you. But there are others who need you now too.
What do you mean?
Things are going to change. It will be hard for you to understand. But you have to trust me when I tell you it will be okay.
Can't I just stay with you? I need you Mom!
I will always be here, I still love you and I watch you ever single day. I'm always with you – know that Baby.
Please don't make me go back! It hurts! I don't want it to hurt anymore!
Darling, physical pain can't hurt you in the long run. Don't let them win. You've been so strong, but now you need to be stronger.
Kurt felt the embrace pulling away and clawed for it sobbing. Mom! Mommy! Please, please don't leave me!
I love you, I've never left you.
Her words were ringing in his ears as the pain made itself known again. This time it felt as though his entire body was on fire. In contrast, he felt like a frigid ice pick had been thrust onto his forehead, it was cold enough that blocked out the fire engulfing him. Kurt opened his eyes with a gasp.
Kurt blinked his eyes against the bright light white above him. If it hadn't been for the noise and bustle of activity, he might have thought he'd truly died this time and was now seeing 'the light'. He could still feel the iciness on his forehead; it felt as though he'd been stuck by a frozen cattle brand. The fire was no long ripping through his body, now he just felt incredibly warm, slightly too warm.
He became aware that he had something on his face, covering his mouth and nose; he tried to lift his arm to remove it, but found that he couldn't move his body. It felt as though he'd been strapped down. Kurt started to panic, his senses were overloaded. He tried to struggle free of his bindings, but it only served to increase the pain he felt in various parts of his body. He heard people talking loudly to him, trying to calm him down. The cacophony of voices proving too much in his panicked state and Kurt found himself struggling to breathe.
It was only when he felt the familiar pressure on his right hand again that he seemed to calm down slightly. He glanced to his hand and saw that indeed he was holding someone's hand. His gaze followed up the connected up to see his father's face. He looked a mess. It looked as though he hadn't shaved or bathed in several days. He'd lost weight and looked as though he was battling exhaustion. But while his face was pale and had tears running down his cheeks, he was smiling. His mouth was moving, but Kurt couldn't hear his words. Whether because he was deaf to his father or he just couldn't make them out over the babble of noise, Kurt couldn't be sure. Kurt felt his father squeeze his hand tightly. Kurt returned the squeeze, taking comfort in the one familiar face in this confusion.
Kurt didn't take his eyes off his father. He wanted to speak; he needed to know what was going on. But he couldn't because of the tube blocking his throat. He tried to ask the question with his eyes, putting all the desperation he felt into that one look. He watched his father step closer so that he was right beside him.
"You're in the hospital Little Jay-Bird. Everything is going to be okay, just stay calm. You have tube helping you breath, but you'll be okay."
Kurt felt an odd sense of longing at the childhood nickname, feeling the grip on his hand tightening again, Kurt did as instructed and took several deep breaths. It hurt, but it cleared his head enough so he could break his eye contact with his father. He glanced around at his surroundings and found that yes; he was indeed in the hospital. He realised that he was lying on an uncomfortable bed; he could feel the IV in the back of his right hand.
He could see doctors and nurses bustling around his bed, checking his body reactions and the multitude of machines that he was hooked up too. He heard someone calling his name and looked around to see a kind-faced woman, who looked vaguely familiar, speaking to him. He focused on her, trying to hear what she was saying.
"Kurt, my name is Pearse, can you hear me?"
Kurt wanted to nod his head, but the pain flashed again when he tried to move it. So he resorted for squeezing his dad's hand.
"He squeezed my hand."
"Okay, Kurt, I'm going to ask you a few questions, I want you to squeeze your father's hand with your answer. Once for yes and twice for no. do you understand?"
Kurt squeezed his father's hand once, who happily played translator, a grin fighting to break across his face. All that truly mattered to Burt was that Kurt was awake and aware enough to respond. While he knew this was only the first hurdle, he was truly overwhelmed that he still had the chance to make this right with his little boy.
"Kurt, do you know why you are in the hospital?"
Two squeezes.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Kurt thought about this vague question. He could remember a lot of things happening. He tried to work out logically what the doctor may have meant. He figured she probably meant something that would be enough to put him in hospital.
He remembered getting home, and the jocks waiting for him. He remembered the attack, and oh, he remembered what he had decided to do once he was inside. He'd tried to kill himself. Obviously he failed, he thought dejectedly. With sadness, Kurt squeezed his father's hand once.
"Okay, that's really good Kurt. Now, I bet you'd like that breathing tube removed, huh? I think we can do that now that you are awake, so long as you're okay and you do well with the pressure support."
What the heck is pressure support? Of course I want this thing out! Kurt gripped his father's hand furiously as Dr. Pearce activated the pressure support on the ventilator. After Kurt demonstrated that he could breathe on his own without ventilator support, she nodded and spoke again.
"Okay, now just relax, keep breathing through your nose, this will feel a little uncomfortable okay? You may cough while this is being removed."
One squeeze.
Kurt felt like he was choking as they withdrew the tube. He tried to keep breathing through his nose like the doctor had told him, but his throat was raw and felt like it had been scratched from the inside. He coughed and gagged when the tube was finally free from his mouth. He took several deep breaths, wincing at the rawness of his throat. He tried to speak, but his throat was too raw and sore, all that he managed was an odd gurgling sound.
"Can you speak?"
Two squeezes.
"That's okay, it's to be expected considering the trauma your throat had."
At Kurt's alarmed look the doctor explained.
"It looks as though you sustained some damage to your windpipe by blunt force. The damage is minimal and there is little risk of scarring. With time it should recover fully. You are very lucky."
Kurt remembered Browning had his arm wrapped around his neck. He winced at the memory.
"Kurt, there are a few people who need to ask you some questions, and it's best if they ask without your father present, at least at first" Dr Pearse added.
Kurt looked alarmingly between the doctors and his father. He saw that his father's shoulders had drooped and his head had hung down looking at the floor. Kurt gently tugged on his father's hand trying to get his attention. He raised his head slightly but didn't make eye contact with Kurt.
"It'sIts ok sonSon, you didn't do anything wrong, they just have to ask these questions. I'll be waiting right outside and I'll come back in as soon as they say it's ok."
Kurt, not keen to lose sight of his only familiarity in all the strangeness felt his eye's well up with tears. He could see the determination on the doctor's face and the resignation on his fathers. Reluctantly, Kurt squeezed his father's hand once. His father offered him a small smile as he squeezed back reassuringly before leaving the room.
Left alone, Kurt watched in panic as a man n orderly came in and set up a video camera so that it was pointing at him but with its focus on his hand.
"Kurt, you are not in any trouble. We just want to find out what happened to you, and make sure that you are safe. Because the police where involved when you were brought to the hospital, this is simply a record for them since they aren't here. We could wait for them, but it's best to ask these questions as soon as possible so your memory is fresh."
A dark-haired nurse stepped forwards and gently grasped his hand.
"Hi Kurt, my name is Nurse Ruth, I think you know my son Noah. I will be asking you the questions, is it okay if I hold your hand so you can answer the questions? I promise that if you get scared, or want to stop, we'll stop. We just want to know more about what happened, to help you get better and make sure this doesn't happen again."
Kurt stared at the woman with large eyes. This was Puck's mom? Kurt gingerly squeezed her hand once and watched as she relayed the information to the orderly man who was now writing what Ruth said.
"Okay Kurt we are going to get started now, don't be alarmed by the camera, it's just to make sure that we don't miss anything. Just answer the questions honestly okay?"
One squeeze.
"Kurt, when you were brought into the hospital, you had many injuries. Did someone cause all of those injuries?"
One reluctant squeeze.
"Did you cut your arms?"
One reluctant squeeze.
"Did you do that on purpose? Were you trying to kill yourself?"
One soft squeeze, followed by his eyes welling over.
"It's okay Kurt; we don't need to talk about that right now. Since you were brought to the hospital, you've been in a coma. Do you know how long it's been?" Ruth gently wiped away the tears that flowed from Kurt's eyes, giving him a moment to regain himself.
After a few moments passed, Kurt's shoulders heaved, and Ruth felt him squeeze twice.
"You've been here for 4 days. You had some pretty bad injuries, and had trouble breathing. That's why you can't talk."
Kurt looked at her surprised, with all the pain he felt, he thought it would have been longer. Ruth decided to continue asking the questions.
"Do you remember what caused your other injuries?"
One squeeze.
"Did someone do that to you?"
One squeeze.
"Do you know who attacked you?"
One squeeze.
"Is that person at your school?'
One squeeze, then two squeezes. Kurt looked desperate to talk, but Ruth put her finger over his mouth to keep him quiet.
"Okay, something was wrong with what I said. Its okay Kurt, remember you shouldn't try to talk. Was there more than one person who attacked you?
One squeeze, followed by a slight nod of Kurt's head.
"Kurt, I want you to squeeze my hand once if the people are adults, like a teacher or janitor, and twice if they are classmates.'
Kurt could feel tears pooling up in his eyes again as he squeezed twice. He felt ashamed and embarrassed by his incapacitation. He wanted to be able to defend himself, explain himself to this woman who reminded him of his mother, supportive and invested in his answers. He could tell that she desperately wanted to take care of him, but for now, he was only able to answer direct yes or no questions. For the first time in a very long time, someone was focused solely on him, and Kurt wanted to let everything go and let her help him.
"This is not your fault Kurt. You squeezed twice, so it was your classmates who attacked you this time. I understand. But, you also have older injuries, some that required medical attention in the past. Did they happen at home?"
The tears turned to that of rage. So that's why they asked his dad to leave! They thought his dad caused his injuries! While he is still angry at his father for his distance and ambivalence, Kurt knew that his dad would never intentionally hurt him. Not physically at least. His choice to remove himself from his life might have hurt deeply, but it wasn't like his dad would ever abuse him. He tried to convey as much in the two strong squeezes, furious eye's glaring at the doctor.
"Kurt, I know this is difficult but we need to make sure you are safe. We need to know if your dad has done something to you, or had done something before. Has your father ever hurt you, ever done something that you know isn't right?"
Another two angry squeezes, and in an effort to get his point across he shook his head slightly from side to side and mouthed NO furiously. He tried to ignore the blinding pain in his head when he moved, but was unable to stop the wince spreading across his face. He felt Ruth's cool gentle hand touching his face.
"It's okay Kurt, we just had to make sure, you don't need to hurt yourself. I understand., I know your dad loves you, but we have to ask these questions with what has happened."
Once Kurt had been able to bite back from screaming with the pain, he felt his heart rate start to slow down, the pain reduced to a dull throbbing. Seeming more settled, Ruth continued.
"Now, the people that hurt you this time, had they hurt you before?"
One squeeze.
"Are there other people who hurt you as well? More than the people who hurt you this time?"
Two squeezes, as Kurt looked down towards his lap.
"Thank you Kurt, we need to know this so we can help you. You said earlier that there was more than one who attacked you this time? Can you please squeeze my hand for the number of students who did this to you?"
Five squeezes.
"Okay, you squeezed five times. Would you be able to name them or point them out from a photograph?"
One squeeze.
"Okay I will let the officers know that. Your neighbour said that she saw some boys walking down the street wearing letterman jackets. Were the people who attacked you wearing those?"
One squeeze.
"Where they all male?"
One squeeze.
"We have photos of all the male students who've received a letterman jacket that are currently still attending the school. If we show you, can you identify them for the police?"
Kurt thought hard about this. Did he want them caught? Yes. But did he want to go through a trial about it? Here he hesitated. He didn't really want to be put in the spotlight about it. If he did, and they were let off, they would come after him again. But if he didn't, they were sure to come after him again anyway. Figuring that he was bound for another beating either way, Kurt decided that the least he could do to fight back was to report them, who knows, maybe they'd all be put away and he wouldn't have to worry about them again. So Kurt gave one strong squeeze to Nurse Ruth's hand.
"It's okay Kurt, you didn't do anything wrong. The police just need to know what has been happening to make sure it doesn't happen again. They'll make sure your safe, okay? Just stay calm, we'll figure this all out when you feel better. We do have something else we need to talk about. Have you ever self-harmed before this? Have you hurt yourself on purpose before you cut your arms?"
Two squeezes.
So Ruth's assistant held up individual headshots of every student from McKinley who received a letterman jacket. Kurt squeezed once for yes at the photos of his five attackers and the doctor held the photos up to the camera and read the names from the backs of each photo. Kurt squeezed the hand once again, confirmed that they were the five boys and hoped that this wouldn't come back to bite him in the arse.
Kurt watched as the assistant packed away the camera and left the room silently. Burt was allowed re-entry, and Doctor Pearse returned to monitor Kurt's state. The doctor and nurse then went on to explain that they needed to check his injuries and run a few tests now that he was awake. Kurt reluctantly let go of Nurse Ruth's hand and tried to keep his breathing even while they methodically and carefully checked his wounds and gently re-bandaged them. They checked his blood pressure and heart rate. They shone a penlight in his eyes and felt around his very tender throat. Then they took some more blood and took care of his other needs, then Doctor Pearse spoke to Kurt again before taking her leave.
"I'll be running some additional tests, just to make sure everything is okay, but at this stage, your injuries are healing very well and very quickly. I'll be back in about an hour to go over everything with you. Now, your dad can stay, and Nurse Ruth will be here if you need anything."
Nurse Ruth had grabbed his hand quickly as the doctor left.
"Would you like some water?"
He squeezed her hand once. She moved away and his father took her place. Kurt watched her soak a clean sponge in water before placing it over his lips and gently squeezing a few drops out it, wetting his dry cracked lips the inside of his mouth. She repeated the motion with a harder squeeze so that a few drops of water trickled down his throat.
He tried to smile to show his thanks, but it came out as more of a grimace, Nurse Ruth however merely stroked her hand across his cheek gently and whispered 'You're welcome'. Kurt saw her move away then to the end of his bed where she fiddled with his chart, making notes and reading, respectfully giving Kurt time with his father.
Kurt felt his Dad gently rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand, mindful of the drip, Kurt turned to see that he had tears silently rolling down his face.
"Kurt, Jay-Bird, God! I can't believe this happened! I can't lose you too! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Kurt averted his gaze so that he was staring at the ceiling. As much as had found comfort at having a familiar face before, now all he felt was hurt and anger at the man who had ignored him for nearing three years. He could see his father wanted forgiveness, but Kurt couldn't honestly give that. He was far too hurt by the continued inactions of his father since his mother's death. So instead, he mirrored Burt's behaviour and ignored him as best he could.
It took Kurt another two days before he regained the use of his voice, albeit a scratchy, hoarse voice that sounded nothing like his normal feminine lilt. The doctors assured him that while his injuries were dire, with the speed of his recovery, they tentatively told him that his body might be able to heal with no lasting damage. During that time, his father very rarely left his side; it was only at Kurt's request for some clothing from home that Burt left the hospital for the first time since Kurt had been brought in. He only left the room at Kurt's insistence for privacy when they were cleaning him and changing his bedpans.
The day after he awoke turned out to be a very busy day for him. Officers Jenkins and Nichols were introduced to him as the investigating officers of his attack. They needed a formal statement from him along with the video of his earlier interview. Again, it was Kurt's insistence that his father leave the room, more out of his own embarrassment and shame than anything else.
So Kurt spoke, he told them all about the day's events and everything from the attack itself. When he got to the part of four of the guys leaving he hesitated. It was not in his nature to 'out' anyone, no matter how heinous, but the threat of Karofsky... It was only with Officer Nichol's prodding that Kurt finally broke down and explained through his sobs what Karofsky had done to him.
Thankfully, Nurse Ruth, a true wonder as far as Kurt was concerned, realised that Kurt was quickly becoming overwhelmed, and shooed the officers out of the room. She insisted that Kurt needed some time and that they would have to come back to ask any more questions. She also paged Doctor Pearse and informed her of the new developments. Doctor Pearse put a rush psych consultation she had requested.
The agents came back the following day and Kurt was able to finish the interview much more calmly. They pressed for a lot of information leading up to the day. They questioned him about school and teachers, any friends and his father. It hurt him to admit to someone that he was alone in all senses of the word. He got word later on that all five boys had been arrested for various degrees of assault and hate crimes. One of the jocks was forced to tell the truth when their parents found out what they had done and the police questioned them, and it seemed like it was over. A trial was still to be held; Kurt hoped that it went quickly.
Kurt was taken for many ECG's and MRI's and any other combinations of alphabet soup that the hospital could possibly think of. While they said his recovery is rapid, he was still in a lot of pain and would often complain about sharp pain on his forehead, even though there was no injury there. All his tests came back as showing normal wave lengths and no tissue damage so it was implied that it may be psychological rather than physiological.
Kurt really thought he'd done something to his brain physically, especially as he found himself answering questions before they were even asked. On a couple of occasions, new people would enter his room and he knew their names before they told him. At first he assumed he must have met them at some point beforehand, and he put down the ability to answer the questions early because he thought it was all so cliché.
But when he started noticing small things, like the time his father knocked over the kidney dish holding the new bandages, Kurt saw it happen a few seconds before it actually did – déjà vu he told himself. When they brought a TV into the room, Kurt conversationally asked if they had put out the fire on Market Street yet. When the TV was switched on, the program was interrupted by breaking news coverage of the fire that started 15 minutes prior. Kurt knew then that something was wrong.
He didn't really want to mention it to his Doctors or Nurses, no matter how much he liked them; he didn't want them to look at him like a crazy person. But when on the second morning he was able to get out of bed, heavily aided, for the first time, Kurt walked past a mirror and saw his reflection for the first time and gasped.
While most of his injuries had nearly healed and the bruising all but faded to a pale sickly yellow, it was the mark on his forehead that troubled him. It looked like a really old scar, just faint white lines, but because of their novelty, they stood out to him like a giant black tattoo. He had stepped closer to get a better look; it was of a conical spiral enclosed in a perfect circle. He scrubbed at it with the back of his right hand, furiously trying to wipe it off, but it wouldn't budge.
Kurt became slightly panicked and demanded from the orderlies holding him to bring Doctor Pearse in immediately. They put him back in his bead and paged the doctor who arrived within two minutes, not used to getting called to Kurt's room. She rushed in but before she could question what was wrong, Kurt pointed furiously at his forehead and wanted to know what had happened to him. The doctor had merely sputtered slightly.
"I don't know what you mean Kurt."
"This! How did I get this? Why didn't anyone tell me about it before?" Kurt demanded, jabbing his finger right over the mark.
"Kurt, there's nothing there… "
But Kurt interrupted his father. "I'm not crazy! I can see it there! I can feel it there!"
Doctor Pearse's heart sank. Putting together all the clues, she was shocked she had not noticed it before.
"Kurt," she began hesitantly, "I'm not 100% sure what happened. I-I'll need to order a – a consultation and another blood test before I can say definitely. I'll be able to have you in by tomorrow lunch time."
Kurt calmed down knowing that he may get some answers about the strange mark, he settled himself further down the bed and started channel flicking. Doctor Pearse meanwhile had motioned Burt that she wanted to talk to him in private.
"I'll be back in a second kid."
Kurt simply continued to ignore his father who sighed and stepped out into the hall.
"What is it? Is something wrong with his brain?"
"Mr. Hummel, as I told your son, I'm not entirely sure precisely what is happening, but I have an idea. I would like to wait for the consultation before I make a diagnosis though."
"So have you seen this sort of thing before?"
"Something like that." The doctor admitted with a grim set to her mouth. "In the meantime, please just keep him calm. While neither you nor I can see what he is referring to, obviously he can. So it's best not to let him get too worked up about it."
Burt nodded his head and returned to his son's room, taking up his silent vigil, waiting for his son to heal so he could be a better father, and hopefully get acknowledgment from him again.
Doctor Pearse meanwhile called up and cancelled her psych consultation request. Given the circumstances, the hospitals staff psychologist would not suffice. While Carole had only recently graduated and had no official affiliations with the hospital, Dr. Pearse knew that this particular case was best suited for someone who had a better working knowledge of the situation. But first, she had to be sure.
The next morning, Dr. Pearse made her way to Kurt's room accompanied by a young slender blonde holding a large arrangement of brightly coloured balloons. Knocking on the door, Dr. Pearse asked Mr Hummel and the on duty Nurse to step outside as it was time for the arranged consultation she spoke about.
Kurt eagerly propped himself up a little straighter, glad to finally get some answers. Burt left the room but threw a surprised look at the doctor when he saw who was standing behind her but left the room and shut the door as requested. Once the three were alone, Dr. Pearse cleared her throat and spoke.
"Kurt, I'd like for you to meet Brittany, my daughter."
Kurt's shock was written all over his face as a bouncy blonde girl dressed in the McKinley High cheerleading uniform stepped around the doctor, holding out a large bouquet of balloons.
"Hi! My Mom said you're sick. Balloons always make me feel better."
Kurt could only gape like a fish, clearly thinking that the doctor must have lost her mind. He'd recognised the ditzy cheerleader from his school, but had never had any contact with her. Just as he was about to question the doctor's sanity, he noticed that Brittany had a mark on her forehead, one he was positive she'd never had before. As he leant forwards to try and get a better look, he was startled when the blonde girl gave an excited squeal.
"Oh look! You're a Unicorn too! We can be Unicorns together!"
Sure enough, there on her forehead was a similar conical spiral, only hers was minus the circle. Before Kurt could even gather his wits, the door burst open and in stepped a tanned boy with a Mohawk.
"I just heard -!" Catching sight of Kurt lying in the bed, Noah Puckerman shoulders dropped. "Shit dude, I'm really sorry."
On his forehead was a circle like Kurt's, but inside was three waved lines sitting on top of each other, not touching. Kurt looked to his doctor with questioning eyes. He saw a sadness in her eyes and he felt himself slump back onto the bed. Whatever this was, it can't be good.
Please don't hate me! More will be coming as soon as it's publishable!
As always -
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Mischievous Gleek