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Here's chapter four, it follows directly after the last one:

Kurt didn't remember falling to sleep after Banks' punishment last night for having a nightmare, but he must have done, because the next thing he remembered was being in a huge, green field with Blaine. The air was pure and the flowers that adorned their surroundings were as beautiful as they were plentiful. Kurt and Blaine were free of the restrictive Dalton uniform and were wearing their own clothes and for the first time in a long time, Kurt felt like himself again. The sun was shining bright and their eyes were shining brighter. Blaine turned to Kurt and took his hand. They walked in amicable silence, the only interruption being the harmonic sounds of nature playing out around them peacefully. Kurt heard an angry shout from behind him and turned around. The majestic and haunting building of Dalton lay behind them, but Kurt didn't feel any fear. It was in the far distance. He was a long way away from all that now.

Kurt saw himself turn to Blaine and smile, and Blaine returned a shy smile back, before he leaned in so close, Kurt could smell his scent and he smelled delicious. And then Blaise yelled, "FINAL CALL!"

Kurt felt a pinch on his arm and he flinched - in the dream or in real life he wasn't sure - and he awoke in an instant to find Blaine staring down at him anxiously, willing him to get up through a thousand unspoken words that he shouted through his eyes. Another day at Dalton Academy was about to begin.

Before arriving there, Kurt was not used to being awoken in such an abrupt manner but he had had to learn to deal with it very quickly. Incurring the wrath of whichever staff was on wake-up duty was bad enough to experience once but going through it each day was enough to wake him up at the crack of dawn every day if necessary. They were all as bad as each other.

The eight boys in Kurt's dormitory marched down the corridors neatly and sombrely and bringing up the rear was Bronson, a thick-necked, thick-jawed piggish-looking brute of a man who looked much older than Kurt reckoned he actually was. Bronson was directly behind him as Kurt was the last student in line, and he could feel his stare practically burning a hole in his ass, he was staring at it that hard. He was the English teacher, though Kurt had gotten straight A's in English at McKinley and it was plainly obvious that Bronson was not qualified to teach the subject. The only thing the students learned in English class was that if you said something that Bronson didn't approve of, or said something in a tone or manner that Bronson didn't approve of, you'd be punished thoroughly for it.

Kurt continued to march robotically down the corridor with the others, his gaze mostly on the floor, but occasionally glancing up and staring at the dark curls on Blaine's head in front of him. The lack of communication was driving him crazy. Blaine was only a few feet in front and Kurt could have easily whispered an idea, a plan, even a normal and innocent comment into his ear had he not been so afraid of the consequences. Fear ruled those at Dalton Academy. Fear of extreme punishment, fear of extreme isolation, fear of anything. And so dormitory thirteen marched, marched left, right, left, right in strict timing, as they made their way to the showers. Mentors were waiting for them at the showers and when dorm thirteen had reached their destination and were suitably supervised, Bronson left to get some breakfast, leaving Kurt alone with the mentors and the other boys. He hated being called a boy but that's what the mentors called them. The mentors were men and the students at Dalton were not only boys, but little boys. Little boys that couldn't stop giving in to their own disgusting and perverted urges and so couldn't be trusted unsupervised with their own cocks.

There were seven other naked guys, mostly his age, all showering alongside him but Kurt didn't feel the tiniest bit aroused, even though some of them were quite cute. But he couldn't, really, not knowing that he would be thrashed to within an inch of his life should the mentors spot his 'inappropriate behaviour.' And not whilst he was standing underneath the ice cold showers with ice cold water that hit his skin like knives being sliced into his bare flesh.

The showers were grimy and Kurt often felt more dirty after showering in them than he did beforehand. Make no mistake about it, Dalton was indeed a grand institution and the brochures certainly made it look as impressive as it was, on the outside. But the thing they didn't tell the parents was that those were just the facilities provided to staff. Immaculate and utterly presentable the uniform may have been, but the same couldn't be said for the student's amenities. The showers were filthy, the dormitories were less than basic and the food was one step up from gruel. Of course, the staff were well cleaned, well accommodated and well fed (they ate three course meals every evening cooked by whichever students were on kitchen duty.) Kurt suddenly shuddered violently and wrapped his arms around his waist in the vain hope of warming himself up.

"Come on, Hummel!" Karofsky roared. "If you just stand there like that you're going to catch pneumonia. Try handling me kicking the shit out of you when you're feeling that rough! Soap yourself up!" Karofsky, along with the other mentors, of course, were fully clothed and warm.

Kurt could barely move from the coldness but he managed to raise a trembling hand to his chest and rubbed the soap against his chest weakly. Karofsky muttered something inaudible to Kahn, another mentor, who laughed hard before he shook his head and nodded towards William. Kurt was a terrifically observant person to still manage to take this exchange into account despite the freezing cold water raining down around him and turned his head slightly towards William to see what they were talking about. Unfortunately his nosiness was about to cost him.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, Hummel, you sick fuck," Sayeed Kahn yelled loudly. He too looked like a clone of everyone else in his Dalton uniform, the only difference being a Dalton-coloured turban he always wore on his head to cover his hair. "Crewe doesn't need you creeping on him. He's trying to get back on the straight and narrow." Karofsky, and two other mentors that were supervising with him and Kahn sniggered at Kahn's comment.

As if to prove his point, William turned away slightly and Kurt flushed angrily at the accusation of trying to snatch a peek at his cock. He lived through hell every day at this school and the last thing on his mind right now was anything sexual. It was the mentors that were leering at him. Still, leering wasn't as bad as to what was going to come…

The mentors were definitely worse than the teachers, Kurt had decided a while back. The teachers, though sadistic in their own right, never outwardly showed anything other than disgusted contempt for the students placed in their care. Sure, it might be plainly obvious that when they made them strip, or spanked them as 'punishment', that they were getting off on it, but they never set up scenarios and participated in them like this, not like the mentors did. The teachers seemed to hold an air of dignity (for lack of better word) about them that suggested that though they would take to punishing the boys of Dalton, it was ultimately through selfless motives; that they were only doing it to help. The mentors, however, revelled in their power and took gleeful delight in subjecting them to humiliation for their own twisted amusement. The bulges in their pants confirmed this every time.

They weren't allowed to towel themselves off after the mentors announced showering was over and abruptly cut the water off; that would have provided them with temporary warmth and that just wouldn't do for the little game the mentors were about to play with them. They were ordered to stand in a horizontal line, arm-width apart from each other. Kurt was third from right, which meant the mentors had five other boys to get through before they reached him because they always started on the left and William always got jostled into that spot as he was the smallest. This morning was no exception and Kurt made sure he was looking straight ahead as the mocking tones of the mentors rung around the dirty shower room. They were circling William like hungry sharks in a bloodbath.

"So you haven't suddenly had a growth spurt then, huh Crewe?"

It's why they played their game straight after the cold showers - so they'd all be considerably smaller from the cold water and the mentors could emphasise their manliness over their boyishness. Everything about the place was a mindfuck. Kurt hadn't ever thought of himself to be easily influenced by things but he was becoming seriously affected and accustomed to the ways of Dalton.

There was a whimpered cry and Kurt reckoned one of them had probably grabbed William's balls and squeezed them hard. William let out a further series of choked sobs before he bit back an anxious cry mixed with a slight hint of relief that signalled to Kurt that they were done with him for the moment. Kurt continued to stare straight ahead.

"Good things don't come in small packages, Adams!" Jason Tierney, an ugly rat-faced mentor snarled. The noise that the slap made echoed around the shower room like thunder, though Anthony Adams didn't make a sound as usual. It was bad enough when one of the bigger mentors treated them in the way they did, but it was insulting to have to take it from a small, pathetic nobody like Tierney. Kurt often thought that if for some reason the two of them ever found themselves in a fair fight, even he would be able to beat him up.

Because Anthony didn't react to the slap in the face, he was awarded nine more, one right after the other. Kurt's cheeks burned for him. Anthony was a very thin and very tall guy, who always had his neck bent. Kurt was amazed when he witnessed him looking up at the sky dolefully one afternoon on one of the rare occasions they were outside - he hadn't thought him physically able to. He concluded that Anthony simply thought that the best way of escaping his Dalton nightmare was by not looking at anything but the floor.

He supposed everyone had their own ways of coping, and yet he wasn't sure what his was. Was he actually coping? Would he ever cope? Did he want to cope? If he began to get used to the ways of Dalton, though easier the whole experience would be on him, it would also signal that this was his life from now on and until the staff deemed it so, his departure from here would be non-existent. McKinley seemed like such a long time ago. It hurt to think about it, but sometimes Kurt made himself anyway; maybe to have some sort of control over the pain he was being subjected to. He couldn't stop the physical and emotional abuse being inflicted on him every day in this hellhole, but if he tortured himself mentally with his own memories, it served as a temporary distraction and blocked out some of the other pain being heaped upon him on a daily basis.

Of course, when he went all melancholy like this, there was only usually one path that his mind led him back to and it hurt, it hurt so badly, but he was hurting so badly all over these days anyway, and the fact that thinking this thought might just cause him to snap and push him over the edge was slightly comforting. At least if he went crazy he'd be oblivious to what was going on around him. Dutifully, he thought of McKinley, which in turn led to his removal from there, which in turn led to the reason, which in turn led to the day his mother died.

That day was a bit of a blur. The most vivid memory he had over the whole thing was screaming hysterically in the hospital as doctors and nurses bustled around him busily, shouting out instructions to each other down white, clean corridors in white, clean coats. His father had been there, alternating between pulling him in close for reassuring hugs and holding him at arms length, shouting, screaming in his face, demanding to know what happened; silent and angry tears streaming down his cheeks. Kurt had tried to talk, but nothing would come out. His mouth was frozen solid in a shocked, small 'o' shape and although he had a million things racing through his mind and he felt as though he would burst if he didn't get any of them out, he just simply could not talk. He was too numb from the shock. There had been lights shone into his eyes as doctors stuck torches in his face to see whether he was still fully conscious. Plastic cups of water were pushed into his hand but Kurt didn't move his arm once to take a sip and they had been taken away, untouched, only to be replaced by a fresh cup by a fresh nurse ten minutes later. The police came. They stared at him suspiciously and jotted things down on notepads. They didn't talk to him, but they talked to Burt, and occasionally they would all turn and look at him as he stared back through dull, deadened eyes. Psychiatrists had given him the once over, before he and his dad were ushered into a private room that smelled like strong medicine. A psychiatrist, two policeman and a doctor were waiting. And then, the questions had begun…

"What the FUCK, Hummel?"

Kurt's eyes shot open. When had they ever been shut? When had it gotten to his turn? His whole body was suddenly racked with nerves and an anxious flush caused him to burn up and begin to get very hot, despite his chilly surroundings. He was staring straight into the eyes of Karofsky and he did not look happy at all. Kurt cried out as Karofsky roughly grabbed a fistful of his hair and twisted the arm that held onto it. Kurt lost his balance and tripped onto his knees, keeping a tight grip on the wrist of Karofsky to sort of hold himself up, as Karofsky wrestled him this way and that, apparently determined to rip some of his hair out by the roots. He squeezed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth as his scalp began to itch with burning pain at the assault Karofsky was delivering to him. The other boys remained silent and stared straight ahead as though nothing was going on around them. Karofsky eventually let go of the hold he had on Kurt's hair and Kurt slowly staggered to his feet.

The solid backhand was a favourite of Karofsky's and he had mastered it down to a T. He shifted all his weight behind his arm, and used the full strength of his body to deliver the blow, right across Kurt's mouth and cheek. The sheer force of the hit was enough to send Kurt spinning a full 360 degrees before he fell backwards onto his ass in a complete daze. His bottom lip felt hot and he knew it had been split from the smack, but knew better than to inspect how bad the damage was with his fingers or tongue until he was in private. Karofsky began to boot him in his ribs and Kurt curled up on himself as much as he could, though not so much that Karofsky wasn't able to hit him and would get frustrated, therefore make the beating more prolonged.

Mercifully, a bell signalled that morning classes were due to start soon and that the game had to come to an end. The mentors hadn't had enough time for Wes and Blaine, who were last in line, and had to settle on a couple of punches to Wes' gut and slamming Blaine's head roughly against a wall, whilst Karofsky's attention remained on Kurt.

"Don't. Fuck. With. Me. Again. Hummel. Understand?" He spat each word viciously but the kicks after each one were more vicious, by far.

Kurt nodded weakly, though he wasn't exactly certain what he was meant to have understood.

Hmmm. I'm not too fond of the abrupt ending of this installment, but I had to cut it short because of the way the next chapters are set up.

It seems that there's a split down the middle as to whether I should include the Warblers or not. You guys gave me some good arguments for and against, as well as some ideas. And after all that, I'm still not sure of whether they will be part of the story or not! It's pretty much writing itself as it goes along, while I hover in the background =]

ANYWAY. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and please, please review. I love getting them. Like seriously, I have such a goofy grin on my face when I check my inbox, it's great. :D

Next chapter up next week. Please review if you liked it! Or hated it, i don't mind :)

Johnny =]

xx