Kelly came in with a needle full of morphine. She flicked it, popped off the cap, squinting the liquid aimlessly before stick it into Kurt's IV.
Just the sight of the needle made Puck's mouth go dry. And when Kelly tossed the needle into the bio-hazard bin, he was able let out a sigh of relief
"You're going to be really high and drowsy for about two minutes and then out like a light." Kelly nodded and left leaving them behind.
As Kurt whole body was going under, numb and buzzy. And his mind was going places it never really gone before.
Kurt's now floppy head rolled in Puck's direction, "God, you have nice eyes."
Puck raised his eyebrow, no repose to that.
"They're the only thing I'm truly envious about you." Kurt's intoxicated head rolled the other way. "They're like Caramilk, chocolaty and caramelly." Kurt gave a wanting grunt and a hungry growl, "It's been so long since I have had Caramilk."
"My eyes? Wouldn't you be jealous of my guns," Puck smirked, flexing for comically emphases.
Kurt's word slurred together, "No, no, no! Guns attract girls. I don't want girls. I want guys!" Kurt's eye lids became heavy. , "Want...I wanted.." A drunken cry hiccupped its way through.
Puck frown as he watched Kurt grate his thighs against each other, "Dirty," His voice cracked as it chanted the same word over and over again. His thighs moved harder and harder, his whole body getting in on the self destructive movement.
Puck grabbed at the tiny teen's shoulders, "You are not dirty!"
Kurt whipped to face Puck, his eye cloudy yet so clear with pain, "It feels like I got slushied down there." Kurt continued to rub his legs together, "All sticky and tacky" Kurt's movements become slower and weaker, "I just wanna get clean." His eyes screwed shut as a few shuttered cries left Kurt.
Puck brushed away a tear that was sitting on Kurt's pained wrinkles, "Shh, I'll clean you up."
Kurt moved into Puck's palm, "Thank you Puck..." his words were heavily slurred, then he was out. His eyes drifted shut and his neck weak in Puck's hands.
And Puck felt like crying again.
Why did he say Essie. Essie was gone. How was he going to answer, "Who's Essie?" Better yet how's he going to answer, "Who's Eli?"
Everything inch of Puck's body was flaring, pricking from bad memories, his eyes itching from blame.
Puck walked out of the Kurt's curtained off-ed room, and headed straight for the bathroom.
A good thing about a hospital's emergency room's men's bathroom, it's full of teary guys who had just lost loved ones. Puck fit right in.
Puck splashed cold water into his face, the freezing temperatures keeping the clarity of said memories away. Puck hunched over the counter, his knuckles stretched white.
Puck stared directly into his reflection's "caramilk" eyes… Why did he have to look so much like him?
Puck couldn't look away for the life of him, he just glared at himself, bitterness polling in his mouth.
Puck started to pant, dangerous huffs. His hot breath formed clouds of the mirror.
They grew bigger and bigger, his anger raise to the point were he spat at the mirror. Right into his reflection's face. Globs on saliva ran down the smooth 2D mirror as Puck hated his 3D self.
The teary men stared at Puck and Puck just walked right by them.
Puck was going to walk right past the memories.
If only that would really work.
*
Puck asked the nurses for a wash cloth and bucket. They gave him a terry cloth, and a bedpan full of soapy water. It would work. And with his supplies Puck went out to do something he had done countless of times.
He had a blank expression on; he couldn't feel while doing it. It would break him to feel and remember.
Puck made sure the ugly ass yellow hospital curtain was drawn tight before he turned as faced the drugged out Kurt. He looked so peaceful now. You won't think he had been viciously raped just a few hours ago.
Puck clenched his teeth together and pretended he felt nothing. As he pulled up the hospital gown till it came to Kurt's knee. Puck bit the inside of his cheek gently pushed the teen's thighs apart.
The air was knocked out of Puck as he stared at the blood, the crusted and dried blood. It was like Puck was staring directly into his disgusting past.
He rung out the terry cloth and brought it to the inside of Kurt's legs. It wasn't coming off as easily as Puck remembered. But he hadn't been Puck when he last did this. He wasn't Noah either. He was Eli. Eli did this job.
It was Eli's, the boy's, job to clean up the blood.
Puck fought to control, to remain himself. But the harder he had to scrub to wash the blood away, the more Puck crumpled away leaving Eli.
Eli wiped and scrubbed, doing his job. His vision started to blur because he was crying. He sobbed silently with his lips pressed together. His shoulder's shook as he rinse out and re-rung the wash cloth. The water splashed dully back into the pan making the water murkier and murkier.
Kurt's thighs and groin tinted pink because of the force Eli had to use to clean him. But Kurt was so far under he felt nothing.
The rag as red when Eli was done. He gave a dry heave before falling to his knees. His elbows held him up on bed; his head was in his hands. He pressed his palms in to his red itchy eyes till it hurt. But even then he didn't stop. He cried, so silently that his body trembled violently.
His fingers dug into and pulled at his short Mohawk.
The hairs ripping out.
Eli stared at his work, Kurt's now clean thighs. His once caked legs were spotless. His job was done.
Eli didn't see Kurt. He saw Her and he remembered Him. He was scared of Him. He cried harder. He fought so hard not to. Blocking them by biting on his huge hands. Choking them by not breathing himself.
Eli was little boy, but he was shaking this grown body.
This short shrill cry broke out and he clamped his hands over his mouths. His eyes were wide, horrified that he made a sound. But they soon screwed shut as he cried harder.
Kelly stood on the other side of the ugly ass yellow hospital curtain, "Do you need any help?"
Eli gasped and shot up in to full height, "No!" His voice was a lot deeper then the last time he used it. It scared Eli because that wasn't his voice. That was His voice.
The nurse pulled back the ugly ass yellow hospitals curtain, "Are you sure? I know this can be hard…"
Puck looked at her, the little boy gone, "Yeah, I know." Puck grabbed the bedpan and the rag. "Where's a washroom where I can clean this stuff."
Kelly gave him directions; he ended up in the men's bathroom again.
Puck stared at the dried spit gobs as he pounded the blood out of the terry cloth.
He returned to Kurt with a clean everything. But his soul.
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Hey guys I hope ur still reading. Review if you like it, or hate. I totally accept flamers…. No pun intended.
Puck… I really fucked with his past. And his mind. All three of them.