Wow. This took longer than I expected, I'm so sorry.

The thing that really kicked my arse into gear to complete this was a shopping trip a week or so ago. I've lived where I live for 21 out of the 25 years of my life, yet until that week I've never noticed this before: But I went into the city and randomly looked at one of the main roads in the very centre of my town and noticed the road was called 'Dalton Way'.

I swear, I have never noticed this before! But I took it as a sign to update urgently :)

I hope you enjoy this installment x

"Kurt, honey... are you alright?"

Kurt was sat at the desk in his bedroom, his homework laid out neatly in front of him ready for him to complete, though he had spent the last half hour staring aimlessly at his revision books while the screen on his laptop remained wordless and blank. Thoughts had been running through his mind at a million miles an hour and it made him feel like his head was going to explode. He couldn't concentrate on a single thing, and he wasn't sure how much more of this shit in his life he could take. But he looked up into his mother's anxious eyes and managed a small, watery smile at her question.

"I'm fine," he replied. His heartbeat quickened and stamped against his chest as he saw the recognition in his mother's eyes that said she didn't believe him. She was so worried about him, it wasn't fair. It was bad enough for him to have to deal with all of this, but at least his problems were his and his alone. It wasn't fair that she had to be dragged into all this. He couldn't do this to her. Not to his mother.

"Really mom, I'm fine," he repeated, giving her a wider smile that he hoped was more genuine. "I'm just stressing because my exams are coming up. Once they're out the way I'll be fine."

She didn't look convinced - with good reason, as she produced a black book from behind her back. "Kurt, I found this -" Before she could get any more words out, Kurt had leapt up and snatched the offending item from her in an instant.

"How dare you read my diary," Kurt snapped. He never raised his voice to his mom, she was the sweetest, most kindest mother in the whole world, but even so, he was mad at her right now. Probably the maddest he had ever been. Okay, so he hadn't hidden his diary in the best hiding place in the world (under his pillow) but there was still no way she would have found it unless she had been snooping. Or cleaning. And really, when Kurt had decided to hide his diary there, wasn't there a small part of him that secretly hoped it would be found? In the small hope that someone would put a stop to this? Or at least be aware of it to unload some of the burden off of him? Even so, he was slightly trembling at that moment and he didn't know whether it was from anger, nervousness or relief.

"Kurt, I'm sorry, I truly am," she replied earnestly. "But I have read it and there are things we need to talk about, sweetie. You can't just -"

"Mom, stop," Kurt said abruptly. "I know that you're trying to help and be understanding about all of this and I appreciate it, really I do. But you've invaded my privacy and I really can't talk to you right now." He placed the diary on his desk next to his laptop before he sat back down in his seat and rested his head in his hands. A long, uncomfortable silence hung in the air at that moment and Kurt closed his eyes, wondering whether he should take back what he said. But he felt vulnerable and exposed at having someone read his innermost thoughts and secrets and it put him at a mental disadvantage. He simply couldn't bring himself to apologise. Because an apology would lead to talking about things and talking was really the last thing he needed to deal with right now. He remained silent and with eyes still closed, he heard a shuffling of footsteps before his mother slowly made her way out of his room and shut the door behind her.

Kurt opened his eyes again.

"Do you remember your first day here, Hummel?"

Principal Lowry had been gazing thoughtfully out of the window of his office for a while, leaving Kurt alone with his thoughts and shifting uncomfortably in the uncomfortable seat Principal Lowry had nodded him to sit down into. Though after he asked this question, he focused his attention back to Kurt and smiled. His smile was not a pleasant one; it looked dangerous and calculating and fitted well on the mans twisted, aged face along with his beady little eyes and large hook nose. He raised his eyebrows indicating he was awaiting an answer, as he lowered himself into the comfortable looking seat behind his desk, opposite to where Kurt was sitting.

"Yes, sir," Kurt replied.

"And do you remember the assembly I gave on that morning, Hummel?" He asked, leaning forward and linking his fingers together in a business-like fashion. There was an almost playful yet ultimately dangerous tone to his voice as he asked this.

Kurt did indeed. The car journey from Lima to Westerville had been a long and silent one. Kurt had stared out of the window for the entire journey, watching the scenery whiz by, and it didn't go unnoticed by Kurt that as they left Lima and headed towards Dalton, the surroundings went from a fresh green to a dull, concrete grey. His dad had made no attempt at conversation and Kurt didn't bother to strike one up either. Pleading and bargaining had not worked and he had been made sure that in no uncertain terms, he was going to be attending Dalton. All because of what he did. All because of what had happened...

Principal Lowry had been standing at the main gates awaiting his arrival, and his mouth had broken into a grin when he spotted the car pulling up to the school grounds, and he had given them a jaunty wave. He was standing next to a large, menacing boy that Kurt would later come to recognise as his mentor, Dave Karofsky.

There had been some awkward small talk between Burt and the principal, the latter reassuring the former that his son would find an outstanding education here, that the firm but fair regime of Dalton would set him straight and that he had absolutely nothing to worry about, though Kurt privately thought that his dad was not in the slightest bit worried about that. He had looked up into his father's eyes for a final time but Burt couldn't and didn't meet his gaze. He hadn't been able to look at him properly ever since... that day. Burt nodded a goodbye before he got back into the car and drove off without a backwards glance. A heavy hand had rested on Kurt's shoulder and he looked up to see Karofsky sneering down at him meanly. His Dalton nightmare was about to begin...

"HUMMEL!"

Kurt snapped out of his daydream to find the principal looking at him in slight disgust.

"So it seems that not only are you insolent, but your stupid brain is unable to focus on a single thing for more than ten seconds. You've been here a month and yet you still haven't seemed to learned the Dalton way." He gave a little smirk then. "It seems we may have to 'up the ante', so to speak, to ensure that Dalton will make a fine man out of you." He stood up from his seat and walked slowly around to the other side of his desk where Kurt was sitting.

"A real man," he added as an afterthought, before he commanded: "Remove your blazer and roll up the sleeve of your shirt."

Kurt stood up on shaking legs and began to take off his blazer, not liking the fact that Principal Lowry was in such close proximity. He had been summoned to the principal's office a couple of times and although Kurt could safely say that he was not as bad as some (or even most) of the other staff at Dalton, the fact that he was the one who was running the school and behind this entire hellhole left an uneasy feeling in the pit of Kurt's stomach when he was left alone with the man. He rolled up his sleeve and waited further instruction. The stinging slap across the face that followed this action made him realise he had done something wrong.

"Are you stupid boy?" The principal snarled. "I want to see your other arm. The damaged arm."

Kurt swallowed thickly and he felt his cheek burning up from the assault. He hadn't done that on purpose; though in hindsight it was obvious that Principal Lowry would be requesting to see the damaged arm courtesy of the 'experiment' done in science class. But subconsciously, though the pain in his arm had started to die down now, it was still burning with an itching raw soreness that had kept him trying to keep his arm as still and as level as possible, in order not to enflame any further pain. Even the material on his school uniform brushing against his tender skin was almost enough to make him cry.

Waking up from the chloroform had been a huge shock.

Firstly, because waking up from being forcefully knocked out was both alarming and disorientating. He'd had no idea where he was and for a horrible, heart-wrenching moment, he had even forgotten all about Dalton and had just been looking around at his surroundings in confusion, wondering why he didn't recognise this room in his house. The realisation, when it hit him, had hit him harder than any of the staff at Dalton ever had and he had slowly started to cry bitterly at the injustice of everything.

Secondly, because when he had finally gathered his mind together and had re-resigned himself to a life at Dalton, he had noticed his arm. He actually noticed his arm before he felt the pain that had been administered to it. True to his word, Bickerly, the science teacher, must have used his lifeless body for further demonstration and poured whatever concoction he had brewed up all over his arm as he lay there unconscious and oblivious to what was going on.

When he had regained his senses and had looked down at it for the first time, he had gasped. There was a somewhat thick and clear white coating adorning most of his forearm where the mixture had been poured but underneath, Kurt could see the raw flesh on his skin, stripped away and looking red and sore and somewhat mutilated. Kurt felt physically sick when he looked at it and felt sick now as he complied with the principals request and held out the damaged arm for him to inspect.

Principal Lowry's eyes gleamed in delight and he grabbed Kurt's wrist and used it to pull him towards him. Kurt bit back a gasp at the harsh contact. The principal let go of his wrist and motioned for Kurt to sit back down, which he did, while he walked over to one of the shelves in his office and pulled out some thick, leather straps. Kurt began to shiver with fear. As shaky as his bravado in Science had been that morning, it had at least been there. He had made a stand and refused to give into the Dalton way. But it had come at a price and without Joseph and Wes here joining him in making a stand, he felt defeated and utterly frightened.

But not frightened enough that he wished he would have just joined in with the punishment of Joseph. He was not that far gone. Yet.

Principal Lowry began to wrap the first strap across Kurt's wrist, bounding him to the arm of the chair he was sat in. Kurt knew full well that had he been taller, or looked more tough and menacing, that he would not have been left alone with the principal in his office. The principal would have certainly called in some Mentors as a backup had he felt the need and the fact that he didn't feel the need to do this was both humiliating and distressing to Kurt.

The straps were an old favourite of Dalton and had served the school well in its years; when Principal Lowry had finished attaching the first strap, it was so tight that it was almost cutting off Kurt's bloodstream and there was no chance Kurt could pull his arm away. Principal Lowry smirked, as though he could read Kurt's mind and he started to attach the strap that would bind his other arm to the chair.

"If I recall," Principal Lowry pondered, as he began looping the strap against Kurt's undamaged arm and tying it to the other arm of the chair, "You were late for your first assembly that morning."

Kurt didn't respond, even though the principals words were not true. He hadn't been late for his first assembly. He had been twenty seconds late for an assembly a couple of weeks later and had been punished for it, but there was no way he was late for his first assembly. Blaine, who had taken an instant liking to Kurt, had made sure he was early so he didn't face a reprimand for it.

"You were made to write an essay of the importance of timekeeping, yes?"

"Sir."

Again, this was not true. And just in case Principal Lowry realised this and was just choosing to fuck with him, Kurt chose to answer with neither an affirmative or a negative and instead just acknowledged the question that had been imposed upon him. In actual fact, the time he was late for assembly, he had been summoned to this very office after the assembly had finished, ordered to pull down his pants and underwear and had proceeded to be caned twenty times - once for each second he had been late by.

Either the principal had a lousy memory or had given out so many punishments to so many students that he couldn't keep up, but mercifully he did not bring up the discrepancy as he finished attaching the second strap. Kurt had his eyes on the floor, staring at his plain, black shoes that all the students at Dalton wore, as identical and soulless as the rest of the schools uniform. Even though he wasn't looking at Principal Lowry, he could feel his self-satisfied gaze radiating onto him and he suppressed the urge to shudder in disgust.

"But it seems that after this little... outburst..." The principal said this last word as though it was vulgar as he walked around to another shelf and started to rummage through it. "...That the task of merely writing an essay is clearly lost on the likes of you. The words need to be ingrained into your mind. And the best way of doing this, I think, is for you to have a permanent reminder of the mindset of this school." Kurt's eyes dared to flicker upwards and they widened as they saw the instrument that Principal Lowry was holding. Such behaviour would have usually resulted in a disciplinary, but perhaps it was the pure shock and fear in Kurt's eyes that the principal got off on that allowed that little mistake to slip by. And Principal Lowry sure looked like he was getting off on it. There was a spiteful gleam in his eyes that only seemed to glow more as Kurt subconsciously tried to move his restrained arms even a tiny bit, to no avail at all.

"Yes," Principal Lowry repeated thoughtfully, as though talking to himself, though the way his voice was raised it was though he was not only talking to Kurt, but to an imaginary, adoring audience too. "I think that a message closer to home will do wonders for your much needed attitude adjustment if you're going to thrive from Dalton's fine institution." He walked over to Kurt and crouched down slightly so they were face to face. An instruction hadn't been given, but the way he was positioned in front of him, Kurt knew he was expected to meet the principals gaze, and so did. He wished he was more brave, but the glinting light bouncing off the metal in the principals hand caused a nervous tremor to run through the entire length of his body and he felt a sheen of sweat form over his forehead.

There was no warning. And had there been one, it wasn't like Kurt could do anything to get out of it. The chair he had been ordered to sit in was set firmly to the floor, perhaps in anticipation of any potential attempts of escape. It was so solid that Kurt doubted even a brute like Karofsky would have been able to rip it from the floor through the restraints. So when Principal Lowry took the scalpel and began slicing it into the raw coating of his injured forearm, all Kurt could do was scream. The principal seemed to relish his screams and proceeded with his punishment.

"You may think that we are doing this to merely torture you, Hummel," Principal Lowry said, as he busied himself with the task at hand and continued to mark small incisions into Kurt's arm. The pain was more than enough for Kurt, who kept his eyes away from the scene as he continued to scream as tears flowed unashamedly from his eyes. He certainly felt the outcome though; the metal slicing into his raw, burning flesh was a pain he had felt like no other and there was a churning pool of vomit swirling in the pit of his stomach at what he was being forced to endure.

"But that," Principal Lowry continued, "is simply not the case." He attacked Kurt's arm with the blade from a different angle now, and Kurt's heart was drumming against his chest so hard he honestly thought it might burst out from his ribcage. He was screaming so loud it sounded like a relentless siren and though it seemed to feed the principals sickening desires, Kurt couldn't help it. "We are here to help you, Hummel. To help you become a better man. To help rid you of these disgusting and unnatural desires you choose to accept. This is for your own good, you'll thank Dalton one day."

Kurt had always been bullied. At the time he had thought elementary and middle school was the worst he could experience at the hands of his tormentors... that is, until high school had opened his eyes and he had realised that worst was yet to come. But even so, he had always been true to himself, had always walked with his head held high and though it might have affected him deeply on the inside, he tried never to let it show on the outside. But Dalton was a different experience altogether. And right now, he knew that should he look in a mirror, the result of his terrorising would be blatant: He was crying, he was sweating and he had snot running down his nose in a most unattractive way. But this is what Dalton did. This was the Dalton way.

"P-Please," Kurt stammered. He knew this wasn't allowed but what else could they do on top of this to make him feel worse than he already did? In the back of his mind he knew that this reasoning was foolish - there was plenty the staff at Dalton could do to sink him lower but right now he wasn't exactly thinking rationally. The only thought in his mind was getting the hell out of this situation. "Please, sir, stop it," he begged weakly.

Principal Lowry was not one for begging and Kurt knew this. Yet when he paused from the task of engraving into Kurt's arm from the metal and walked away, a flicker of hope ran through Kurt's heart. As quickly as the flicker came, however, it certainly vanished as the principal returned to where Kurt was forced to be seated, with a gag in his hand and proceeded to force the steel ball into Kurt's mouth and then wrap the strap around Kurt's head to stop his pleading. Kurt unleashed all the pain he was enduring into the gag and though the steel ball that rattled against his teeth was restricting, at least it provided a temporary barrier that he could grit his teeth into and let it out as an outlet - not that it stopped the hot, painful tears cascading down his cheeks.

"Dalton is just trying to help you, Hummel," Principal Lowry said soothingly. He continued with his practice of making the sharp cuts into Kurt's raw arm and the sharp action mirrored against the supposed-to-be calming words of the principal resulted in a serious head-fuck. If he could have budged an inch to escape the pain, Kurt would have done, but the attempt was futile. He was bound to his position and there was to be no let up before the principal decided it so. His teeth were vibrating against the steel ball in his mouth.

"Just a little more," the principal added, as though trying to placate him. The final slices into his flesh felt as painful as the first ones, yet Kurt couldn't help feel a wave of relief wash over his body as Principal Lowry stepped back and looked down at his own handiwork admiringly. "There, all finished." It was like the conclusive words of a doctor who had just administered a disgusting, yet helpful medicine to a small child.

It took Kurt a while to regain his senses. Yet when he finally calmed down enough to look at the quote that was now engraved into his injured arm like a scalding, permanent tattoo and the words were sent into his brain, it almost sent him into a new state of nauseous panic:

The staff here is severe, yet so altruistic

The bathroom in dormitory thirteen was disgusting and Kurt was sure that even if he showered a hundred times a day from now until forever, he would never be rid of the mouldy, grimy smell from his skin. Yet he was grateful for the free space he had right now. The small bathrooms that were situated in the back of each of the dormitories consisted of nothing more than a dirty toilet and sink, but were considered safe havens amongst the Dalton boys. Had it been earlier in the day, he would have been forced to resume normal service and had he needed to go to the bathroom to clean his wounds, it would have been to a communal one led there by his mentor, Karofsky, who would have certainly taken the opportunity to beat him. As it happened, it was nearing eleven o'clock in the evening and after Principal Lowry had administered his punishment, he had been forced to go straight to bed without supper. Karofsky had walked him back and had shoved him around a little bit but had generally left him alone. Kurt was not entirely happy about this, fearing that Karofsky's going easy on him would surely result in a harsher punishment in the next few days.

But for now, he was alone and he was grateful for it. After he had quietly changed into his bedclothes, he had slunk past the other boys in his dormitory who were all in bed (apart from Wes and Joseph who had not yet returned from wherever they had been sent to after Science class earlier that day) and made his way to the dingy bathroom. The lighting was harsh and there was a smell that was overpoweringly gross but Kurt had perched himself on the edge of the toilet seat and forced himself to look at the etching on his arm.

The staff here is severe, yet so altruistic

What a lie. Yet it was permanently engraved in blood red against his pale skin now. Whatever chemical Bickerly had poured onto his arm had almost vanished, leaving the quote blatant and ugly and scarred. Kurt shuddered, and then immediately stiffened when he heard a bed creak. The door to the bathroom had no lock on it, of course, and was so flimsy it could easily be booted in, and it opened slowly. Kurt's breath hitched and his heartbeat began to quicken before he sighed in relief as the figure of Blaine shuffled in.

Blaine couldn't meet Kurt's eyes and though Kurt thought he knew the reason why, he wanted to tell Blaine it wasn't his fault, yet couldn't form the right words. So they remained in silence while Blaine wordlessly made his way over to the tap and turned it on as unobtrusively as he could. The water pipes were old and rusty and made a hell of a lot of noise and though they were permitted to use the bathroom, should a mentor catch both of them in here at the same time, they'd have a lot of explaining to do.

He held Kurt's wrist and gently pulled him into a standing position over the sink. Blaine ran his free hand under the freezing cold water and proceeded to wet Kurt's arm as softly as he could. It didn't do much, but the kind action was almost enough to bring Kurt to tears.

"How do we survive this place?" Kurt whispered, after a while.

Blaine looked up and met his eyes for the first time. "Courage," he whispered back. "Hope. And the belief that we'll get out of here." He wavered uncertainly for a moment and Kurt looked down to the floor. He wanted to believe Blaine, but each day he was stuck here sucked the life out of him more and more. Even in the slightest chance they did escape, would they ever really escape from the nightmares and torture they had been put through? The emotional scars may never fade.

Blaine turned off the tap and then sighed. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

Kurt looked up in surprise. "What for?" he whispered softly. Blaine was averting his gaze again and looked like he was clearly struggling.

"For what happened in Science," Blaine explained quietly. "You were so brave. All three of you. And I did nothing."

Kurt shook his head. "Yes you did, Blaine. I saw the look Bickerly gave you. He had to stare you down for ages. I remember thinking you weren't going to do what he said and I was so scared for you. I was willing you to get up so he wouldn't punish you."

"You didn't do what he said. And he punished you."

Kurt sort of half-shrugged, not knowing what to say, and Blaine fingered the quote on his arm gently. "The staff here is severe, yet so -"

"Don't, Blaine." The words came out harsher than he meant them, causing Blaine to flinch a little. "I'm sorry," Kurt added. "But I had to feel it, endure it and have it be a part of me forever without having hearing you say it to me too."

Blaine nodded once, indicating that he understood. There was another silence for a moment, before Blaine spoke up hesitantly. "At school... before I came here, I mean, I... there was an incident with these guys who were causing me trouble. I tried to brush it off, keep to myself, but one day, I'd just have enough. I snapped. I tried to stand up to them. And for a while, I thought it had worked. And then..."

Blaine sniffed, and Kurt reached out and squeezed his shoulder soothingly. Blaine gave him a weak smile. "...And then one evening, just as we were all settling down, we were watching TV and someone... those guys, they... they threw a brick through the window. My sister... she was seven months old... she was lying in her crib when the brick smashed the window and the glass... it smashed and..." Blaine was sobbing silently, his whole body racking with tears that he couldn't release properly in case someone would hear, but Kurt had heard enough and pulled him into a tight, comforting hug. They stayed like that for a while, Blaine using Kurt's shoulder as a muffler as his grief poured out of him. The thought that they would be put through The Ring every day for the rest of their being here, or something even worse if they were caught in this position didn't even cross Kurt's mind. At that moment, Blaine needed him and Kurt was going to help, even if all he could do was hug him to let him know that he was there.

"Were the police involved?" he whispered, so softly in case Blaine didn't want to answer and could ignore him if he wanted. Kurt felt Blaine shake his head against his shoulder.

"No," he sniffed. "Well, they were, but there was no proof who did it and they didn't follow it through. My parents blamed me, blamed me being gay. They sent me here. My sister still bears the scars... she doesn't even know I exist." He eased himself from the embrace and looked at Kurt earnestly. "But Kurt, I wanted to make a stand earlier with Joseph. I wished I had, I really do. I was just scared. It just bought back memories..."

Kurt nodded, his own unwanted memories of his mother and the events that led to his arrival at Dalton rushing to his brain. "I understand, Blaine," he replied softly. And he really did.

Just then, they heard the main door to the dormitory being opened and they jumped away from each other in a shot. Kurt was staring at Blaine through wide, horrified eyes and Blaine looked like he was going to be sick from fear. They heard slow footsteps coming towards the bathroom and just as Kurt thought that they were both done for, the bathroom door swung open to reveal the shaking figure of Wes. He looked terrible, like he had been through a war, yet all Kurt could see was Wes' own etching scratched into the dark skin on his arm. Even from the distance between them, Kurt could read what Wes had had to bear:

Forget the things you thought you knew, we'll make a very good boy of you

"Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt, who had been tending to Wes' wounds in the same kindly yet futile manner that Blaine had tended to his, threw him a tired smile, and remained focused on cleaning the scarring with cold water. "It's nothing."

They had been in the bathroom for almost twenty minutes together now. Blaine had made a departure at the arrival of Wes, who did not look best pleased with him. Kurt wanted to explain why Blaine had given in, but did not feel comfortable at telling Wes something so intimate, something that Blaine had obviously had great difficulty in revealing to him, and so instead he had changed the subject, gently probing Wes as to what his own punishment detailed. It was pretty similar, though Wes' 'tattoo' had been given by a bunch of mentors who had apparently not been as delicate as the principal had been with his.

Wes shook his head. "Not for this. For what you did." Kurt met his eyes for an explanation. "The way you stood up for Joseph earlier, it was so brave. For the first time since being here, I had hope. I've got hope. It's the first time I've ever felt alive, like we've got some chance of getting out." He gestured to his arm. "It hurts, but that's all. I'll endure hurt if it means a chance at escape. I'll do anything to get us out of here, Kurt, I promise."

Kurt nodded hesitantly. "Same to you."

Wes shifted for a moment, as though he was going to say something, but then the boys heard the telltale noise of the dormitory door being opened again. They waited warily, both staring at the door to the bathroom and as Kurt half expected, it opened slowly and in walked Joseph. His hair looked matted and his eyes wild as he closed the door behind him and leant his back against it. Kurt's eyes flickered down to Joseph's inscription:

The new boys are tender, the old ones sadistic

"I have to get out of here," Joseph announced, worryingly calmly. He moved away from the door and advanced to Kurt and Wes. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes," replied Wes as Kurt asked, "With what?"

Joseph looked back at the door and then back to the boys, before beckoning them to come closer, which they did. His words were barely audible now. "I need to get out of here," he said. "I can't do it alone but if we work together we can all escape. I think we should make a break for it."

"What if they catch us?" Kurt asked fearfully. "We'll be in deep shit."

"We'll be in deep shit anyway," Wes replied, to which Joseph nodded hurriedly. "For something or for nothing," Wes added, "they'll find any excuse to make our lives hell."

"We need to do it now," Joseph interjected anxiously. "It's almost midnight. Tonight's our best chance."

"Our best chance for what?" Kurt asked. Joseph motioned towards the bathroom door.

"I'll explain on the way," he replied. He turned to Kurt. "Change into your clothes and put your shoes on as quickly and quietly as possible from the second I open this door." Joseph had not changed into his bedclothes yet. "I'll be waiting by the dormitory door."

The doors to the dormitories were not locked at night. Should any staff enter the dorms at night for a visit to check that the students weren't engaging in immoral acts, they wanted the element of surprise and the sound of a deadbolt being slid open or a key being inserted would have given the game away. And locked doors were the least of their worries. Dalton was so heavily guarded and watched that there was no need to keep the boys confined by locks in their sleeping place. Kurt wanted to know what Joseph's plan for getting out of the highly-observed school was but Joseph had already opened the door and padded silently back into the bedroom and gestured to Kurt and Wes to follow him.

They complied with Joseph's order and Kurt tiptoed back to his bed. The full moon was glinting through a small slit in one of the windows, casting a makeshift stream of glow across the room. Kurt cast his eyes over the various beds to see if the others were awake, but his eyes were still adjusting to the dark away from the harsh lighting in the bathroom so he couldn't see properly. It took him quite a while to get changed. Wes, like Joseph, had not changed into his bedclothes from his return and had joined Joseph by the dormitory door and they were both alternating between watching Kurt's progress and pressing their ears against the door to try and hear if anyone was coming.

Kurt had changed into his pants already and was now pulling a sweater over his head before he stepped into his shoes and bent down on one knee, proceeding to tie his shoelaces. He looked up over to Blaine's bed but all he saw was a lump under the bedcovers. He silently willed him to wake up. He tied the final knot in his shoelace and then began to work on the other one. Come on, Blaine, wake up. It didn't work, and Kurt stood up shakily, realising, for the first time, that his heart was hammering against his chest at a million miles an hour. He was sure that it was loud in the dark silence of the room but nobody seemed to be stirring. He crept quietly over to Joseph and Wes.

"What about the others?" Kurt whispered.

Joseph shook his head hurriedly. "There's no time," he whispered back urgently.

"But -"

"No!" Joseph hissed harshly. "It's now or never." He grit his teeth, wincing, as he pulled open the door, squeezing his eyes shut as the hinges on the door creaked loudly in the dead of night. He pulled it open enough so there would be enough room for them to sneak out and then motioned for them to go outside.

"I'm not sure about this," Kurt whispered warily, as Wes brushed past him and crept silently out of the room and into the corridor. "Joseph, what's your pl-"

Kurt didn't manage to finish his sentence because Joseph had pushed him hard right in between his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling full force into Wes, causing them both to fall onto the stone floor of the corridor. The thud the push caused would no way go unnoticed by whichever staff was on night duty. Wes groaned loudly as he fell on the floor, but he couldn't help it; his injured arm had been crushed by landing on it, along with the full weight of his own body and Kurt's as well. Kurt didn't check if he was alright for the moment, instead turning back to the dormitory door angrily, just in time to see Joseph's malicious, triumphant smirk and that fresh, raw quote on his arm:

The new boys are tender, the old ones sadistic

Kurt stood up and threw himself against the door, pushing all his weight against it, but it was no use. He turned back to Wes and helped him up. Wes was nursing his injured arm but all the same helped Kurt trying to open the door back up by ramming his non-injured shoulder into the door. But the slight scuffles they heard on the other side of the door indicated that Joseph was trying his hardest to keep it shut. Harsh whisperings from Joseph that awakened the others in the dormitory confirmed that he had roped in some of the other boys to help keep them out. If Wes and Kurt got caught, it'd keep the heat off of the rest of them for a while for sure. If Wes and Kurt had to be sacrificed in order for that to happen, then so be it. That was just the Dalton way.

Of course Ralph and Scott would have jumped at the chance to do this, and William too, for he was that scared of everything that Dalton had to offer. Joseph may have managed to bully Anthony into doing it as well and though Kurt knew there was no way Blaine was joining in on ganging up on Wes and Kurt, he was only one boy against five of them. Their only hope now was that nobody had heard the commotion and the staff wouldn't bother doing their routine night checks.

But of course it was not to be. Kurt's heart plummeted as he heard slow, calculated footsteps making their way towards them. Wes looked at him anxiously and Kurt just half-shrugged in defeat, before bracing himself for whatever was coming.

The corridor was dark and though the footsteps had grown louder, the person who the footsteps belonged to still remained to be seen. It was only when the figure was a few feet away from them that they were revealed, and the twisted smile of Karofsky was enough to send a revolted shiver down Kurt's spine. Karofsky looked like he had struck gold.

"Out of bed after hours, boys? The principal won't like that. He'd be furious to be woken up at this hour because of your late night antics."

They just stared, unable to say anything, rooted to the spot with fear. There was a flash of inspiration as Kurt was lost in thought for a second, imagining his fist driving right into Karofsky's jaw. But he knew it wouldn't do shit. It would only drag him down further.

"Which is exactly why I'm taking you both there. Right now."

I hate what I'm doing to these guys, honestly. I can't even say it'll get better, because I don't know if it will yet.

A short authors note: This fic was started maybe like... five years ago? It was originally based in the Harry Potter fandom. So the punishment in regards to the 'tattoos' that were put to the 'miscreants' of Dalton was actually based on the punishment created by Professor Umbridge in Harry Potter book 5 when she had that special quill that forced inscriptions into Harry's hand (those who have read it should know what I'm talking about) :)

Please review! Your reviews keep me going! And please let me know your ideas and thoughts and questions etc.

I hope, and sincerely will try to not let the next update go as long as this one took.

Until next time,

Johnny xx