Hello! I am overwhelmed by the amount of people who read my story. It's seriously the greatest feeling to know that people take the time to read my silly fics, so thank you for that!
WARNING: This chapter could be classified as triggering for anyone who has been involved in some way with self-harm. If it makes anyone uncomfortable I do apologize now. Also, if anyone does need someone to talk to about any problems they may have, you can message me on here, or even on my Tumblr. I help a lot of different people and I love making others feel like they matter and that they know they are important and loved.
I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. It was emotionally exhausting to write and I hope that I've accomplished what I've set out to do!
xoxo
How did this get so wrong? Blaine asks himself as he lies in bed a few nights later. His tear stained cheeks have gone pale, his swollen red eyes tired, body too weak to sit up. Blaine couldn't help but feel responsible for everything that has happened over the past few days, as he should.
"Quinn?" Blaine sticks his head in her room, knocking on the door frame.
The blonde girl sits on her bed, scribbling in her sketch pad. Her head stays down, eyes focused on the drawing. There was a silence, a very uncomfortable silence. Not the easy silence of her drawing while he watches peacefully.
Blaine tries to once more, clearing his throat, "I didn't see you during lunch."
"That is correct," Quinn answers, her voice empty. That emptiness is what worries Blaine. He could tell the difference between her normal monotone speech and this terrible vacant one.
Taking a step in, Blaine rubs the back of his neck, "Why's that? I mean, I know you don't really eat as it is, but-"
"I just wasn't in the mood," she interrupts him, still not looking up from the paper. "I mean, could ya blame me?" She adds, tainting her words with a bitter taste.
Blaine looks up at the window in his room, wincing slightly at the pain of his cramped neck. The moon was high, shining brightly into his room. He begins to smile slightly, thinking of how much Quinn would admire the beauty. It's then instantly taken away as the memories over flow him.
Quinn sighs, squinting her eyes at her work, "Why are you in here, Blaine? Don't you have somewhere to be? With Kurt? Maybe sneaking out?"
"Stop that," Blaine begs, taking a seat next to her, "I told you that I'm sorry for not saying anything to you. I wasn't going to leave anyway. I couldn't do that to you."
"But you were going to."
"No, I wasn't. I care about you too much."
"Stop," she says as she places down her sketch, drawing side first.
Confused, Blaine reaches out a hand to place on her shoulder, "Stop what?"
"Stop acting like you care about me!" Quinn finally snaps, shouting in Blaine's face, "You don't care about me. No one does. And no one will." Blaine is taken aback, opening his mouth to speak but she starts again before he has the chance, "I know you're all about making people happy and being everyone's friend. I bet you feel so proud of yourself to make Kurt go from this heartless mean person to this in love and happy boy. But I'm not Kurt. I'm not stupid enough to let myself be fooled by some boy who I've known for not even a month. It's been nineteen days, Blaine. Nineteen."
Hearing the precise amount of time is a little unsettling, but what's worse is how she was talking about Kurt in such a harsh way. "Don't bring Kurt into this," Blaine shakily tells the angered girl, "He did nothing wrong."
"Are you joking?" Quinn glares at him, crossing her arms, "You're just as bad as him. Trusting someone after such a short time together. It's insane." She pauses, looking Blaine right in the eyes, "Maybe you should be here, Blaine. Because whatever is it that's going on in the pretty little head of yours isn't normal."
"I'm perfectly normal," he frowns, voice barely a whisper, "There is nothing wrong with me."
"Oh?" Quinn raises a brow, leaning over as if to tell him a secret, "Is that what Kurt tells you?"
His stomach hurts, hating the words running through his mind.
You're not normal.
There's something wrong with you.
You're sick.
You're insane.
Blaine clutches onto his sides, trying to relax himself in some way. He couldn't do this to himself. Thinking about Quinn and their situation was painful enough. He doesn't need to bring back all of the haunting words that cause his stomach to churn.
As his wrist rubs against the fabric of his shirt, Blaine winces. He pulls out his arm and looks down at the bandaged wrapped wrist.
"Don't," Blaine's teeth grind together, wishing that he hadn't come in her room at all.
Quinn stands up and walks over to the other side of the room. She stands in front of her sink, washing her hands, "It's true, Blaine. You're sick. Just like the rest of us."
Getting off of her bed, Blaine stands a few feet away from her, "I'm not sick. And neither are you. Quinn, you're perfectly fine. I promise you that nothing is wrong with you."
"You're not a doctor. Don't tell me what's not wrong with me," Quinn sighs, seeming as though she's bored with the conversation.
Blaine runs a hand through his hair, trying to think of anything that will make things better. "Listen, Quinn," he reaches a hand out to place on her shoulder.
Shutting his eyes tightly, Blaine holds onto his wrist. It all happened so fast that it almost seemed as though it was a dream. But as the bandage shows signs of a brownish red tint underneath the layers, it just reminds Blaine how terribly real all of it is.
Blaine is on the floor holding onto the pained area on his arm. He has his eyes closed, biting his lip to stop from screaming. As he opens his eyes, he can see the warm red liquid running up his arm, dripping on the floor. He looks up panicking. All he sees is Quinn standing tall in front of him, holding a razor in her hand.
The life from her eyes is drained, there is no sign of Quinn to be found. That is until her eyes advert down to the injury on Blaine's wrist.
"Oh gosh," she mouths, voice hardly audible.
"What's going on in here?!" A loud voice booms from the door way.
Blaine looks over and his heart drops as he sees the warden. As he looks back to Quinn, he notices that Quinn hasn't looked away from his arm. All Blaine sees is a scared, regretful girl. But all that the warden sees is a bleeding boy with a girl holding a razor in front of him.
"That's it Fabray," the warden starts, stepping out of the room for a moment, "I need a few men over here now! Got a loose one." She comes back and walks up to Quinn, grabbing her wrist, "Give me that."
Quinn snaps out of her trance, noticing the warden had taken the razor out of her hand. "Wait, no," Quinn tries to talk, but gets cut off.
"Let me see here," the warden pulls up her sleeve, revealing cut marks all up her arm. "Just as I thought. Well, can't say I'm not surprised."
Blaine's mouth drops open at the injuries on her arm, tears forming in his eyes.
A few tears fall down his cheeks. Blaine is surprised that he still has tears left after all of the crying he's been doing. He wasn't crying for himself. He was crying for Quinn. His friend that he hurt in one of the worse ways possible. Blaine would never forgive himself if anything bad was happening to her. He promised that he would always be there for her, and now look what he's done. He could still hear her screams echoing through his mind.
Just then, two of the men in white rush into the small room, going on either side of her. A third comes in holding a needle in his hand, ready to use at any moment.
The fear in Quinns eyes radiates to Blaines, causing him to shout, "No! Wait, she didn't do anything!"
"Nice try, kid," the warden states, clearly not buying any of it, "Get her out of here."
"Wait, no don't take me!" Quinn begins to panic, squirming in the grasp of the men. "Please, I'll behave! I won't do it again! I'll be good!"
"Give it to her," one of the men nods over to the third, holding out her arm.
The third man comes over, trying to avoid the girls kicking, "Hold her still."
"No, please don't!" Blaine yells, tears streaming down his face.
"Pillsbury, get in here!" The warden calls out, beckoning the nurse.
"Alright, you'll be okay," the man says to Quinn before sticking the needle into her vein, releasing the sedative into her blood stream.
The blonde girl continues to fight it, screaming loudly for them to let her go, "I don't want it! I'm not crazy! I didn't mean to!"
Sobbing on the floor, his injury far out of his mind, Blaine feels his heart break into bits and pieces. This was his fault. If he just left her alone, none of this would happen. Not even realizing his surroundings, he feels a pull on his arm. Looking to his side, he sees Nurse Pillsbury next to him, mending his wound.
"Don't worry honey, I'll just clean you up a little and wrap it in a bandage," Nurse Pillsbury gives a small smile. It's fake, but not in a way that's meant to be rude. It's fake reassurance that everything would be okay. She obviously wasn't used to situations such as this one, and it seems as though she was not just reassuring Blaine, but also herself.
Blaine looks from her back to Quinn, watching as she becomes overcome with weakness. The sedative was working, causing her to go limp in the arms of the men.
"Get her to the fourth floor, wing D," the warden orders the men. As they carry her out, the warder turns to Blaine, "You're going to tell us what happened. And if you leave anything out, we'll find out."
Nurse Pillsbury continues to patch Blaine up, "I think I've got him, Sue."
The warden glares at the usually not so outspoken nurse, "Right. Keep your mouth shut, kid. I don't need these wacko's having another reason to go nuts about. They're just as bad without knowing, but I'm not taking that chance. Got it?"
Blaine nods his head, unable to find the right words. His throat was sore from screaming and crying. All he wanted to do was wake up from his nightmare.
"He's a great young man," Nurse Pillsbury says, starting to wrap up his wrist, "He won't say anything."
"Good, now finish up and get back to your post," the warden orders before walking out of the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
He begins to shake thinking about how angry he was. He wanted to run after the men, rescue Quinn and leave this horrid place. It was his fault. They should have taken him.
Blaine rolls over and is lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. His whole body just feels numb. He hasn't eaten two days. He doesn't want to. His appetite has ceased, as did his need for sleep. Blaine shuts his eyes and thinks about the days. He came here December third. Quinn had told him that he was here for nineteen days. That would make it the twenty second when they're blow out happened. It's been two days since.
Feeling his heart break, he opens his eyes. It was Christmas Eve. As if it were going to be bad enough, now he really wasn't going to be in the mood. Not when all he can think about is how much he screwed up. When everyone wakes up, it'll just be another day, but to Blaine, it'll be a day of memories and sorrow. He groans and rolls onto his stomach.
After Nurse Pillsbury finishes up, she stands up, helping Blaine as well, "I would rest that hand arm of yours. You don't want to put stress on it. It'll take longer to heal."
Blaine just nods, wiping away a few stray tears. He hears what she's saying, but blocks it out at the same time. At this point, all Blaine wants to do is be alone.
"Blaine?" Nurse Pillsbury stops him for a moment, "She will be okay. I promise. I'll personally check on her. And when they ask me how she behaves in the common room, I'll say nothing but good things."
"You don't have to do that," Blaine looks to her, feeling himself giving up on any hope.
"I don't," she nods, "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to." She gives him a small smile, a real one this time, "I'll be at my station if you need anything, dear."
Blaine grins halfheartedly, "Thank you, Nurse Pillsbury."
"It's nothing," she rubs his back soothingly, "Now go lay down."
He obliges almost immediately, giving a small wave as he turns to go to his room. What he needs is to nap, and that's exactly what he was going to do. But to his surprise, as he enters his room he sees Kurt sitting on his bed.
Blue eyes dart up quickly, "Blaine, oh God, you're okay."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Blaine voice cracks slightly, standing in his door way.
"I heard a bunch of shouting, I was starting to get worried," Kurt rushes to Blaines side, hugging him tightly. Blaine just stands there, not really moving into the touch, and Kurt notices right away, "What's wrong? Are you alright?"
"Kurt, can I just be alone?" Blaine whispers, looking up at him with apologetic eyes.
For a moment, it looked as if Kurt wanted to say no, to beg Blaine to tell him what had happened. But if he's learned anything from his past tiff's with Blaine, is that he needs to give Blaine space when he needed it.
"Yeah, course," Kurt nods, brow furrowing. Blaine walks away from him, laying on his bed and pulling the covers over himself.
Blaine watches Kurt exit the room, heart breaking with every step.
He hate's how weak he feels. It's barely been a month since he's been here and he couldn't handle it. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Maybe it's good that he's here. Blaine does know one thing for sure. He wasn't going to throw himself a pity party tomorrow. Kurt has been worried enough for the past few days. Every time he would try to talk to Blaine or comfort the boy in any way, Blaine would just push him away. Blaine doesn't need to make things worse by cutting him off and lounging around all day. Finally finding himself drifting off into a deep sleep, Blaine's last thought is Kurt and his holiday memories, if he had any at all.
Yikes, well that was intense. I hope you liked it! The next chapter is going to be very Kurt-centered for all of you Kurt lovers. I really hope I do his story justice and that you all love it just as much as I do! Thank you for reading and reviews are always welcomed!
xoxo
ashcanwrite