AN: I think this might be the longest chapter yet. I had a lot of fun with it, and I think this story is taking off in a different direction than I originally intended. Oh well. That tends to happen.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I only own my imagination.
You can't be serious, Kurt thought.
I am. That's why you saw me there, his mother replied.
Is there any way to get you out?
You'd have to break the glass. But your uncle wont let anyone near it, that's why he—Kurt, what are you doing? Kurt had gotten up and started dressing himself in what he deemed to be old clothes. Last season things. He didn't answer, but he didn't need to.
No. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel don't you even think about it.
He ignored her. He did his moisturizing routine and his hair in silence, putting on his running shoes—he'd need to be able to bolt if it was necessary. He made his way down the Dalton steps quietly, careful not to wake any of the students, or worse, his dorm adviser. He thanked the god he didn't believe him that he knew enough about cars to get his to start near silently, and pulled out of the student lot.
Okay, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Now that his mother had stopped demanding that he turn around and go back to Dalton this instant and left him altogether, he was fucking terrified. The junior pulled up next to the insane asylum, right by the fire escape he'd crawled down a week ago.
This place was scary as shit, but he had to get his mom out of there.
Gathering his courage, Kurt climbed out of the car and made his way over to the metal structure. Each step brought on more anticipation than the last, each groan and and creak of the old metal shooting a new wave of fear through his body. When he finally reached the top, the countertenor took another deep breath and and slowly slid the window open.
The room reeked of dust, and Kurt suppressed a cough. He noticed the fireplace and old rocking chair were just as he'd left them, but the mirror had disappeared. He couldn't have the wrong room, could he?
Kurt climbed over the windowsill and stepped silently to the ground. No, it couldn't be the wrong room, because there was the door lying on the ground from when he'd kicked it down. Barely breathing, he crossed the room and went out into the hall.
Holy fuck if it wasn't even creepier than before.
As silently as possible, the boy made his way down the hall and carefully turned the first doorknob he came across. It stuck a little, but opened nonetheless. With a loud creak, the door opened slowly. Kurt poked his head inside.
The room was empty, completely bare save for some cobwebs. Kurt was sure to shine his flashlight thoroughly into every corner before easing out of the room again and continuing through the corridor. The next door was locked, and so was the one after it.
Mom? Kurt tried, but his mother wasn't answering. For the first time in a long time, Kurt felt utterly alone. Shaking now, the countertenor continues to test doors until he comes across another that's unlocked. He shines his flashlight around the room, and stops when the light falls on an oval shape, antique metal swirling and facing away from him. Feeling triumphant, Kurt moves to take a step towards the mirror.
Kurt, don't. He's baiting you. Turn around and run. Kurt freezes in his tracks, one foot off the ground.
I can't stop now, I'm so close. He puts his foot down inside the room, and suddenly he's being hurled inside. He crashes against the wall opposite the door, body automatically curling to protect his head. Kurt's shoulder bashes painfully into the brick, tearing his shirt and leaving a scrape.
The door slams closed and the window shatters above him. Moonlight pours into the room, no longer deterred by the dust-covered glass, and Kurt can see that near shapeless, dark creature coming towards him. He can see now that the figure is a distinct human silhouette from the waist up, but everything below is misshapen.
Scrambling to his feet, Kurt attempted to dash towards the mirror and run like hell, but the figure—which he now knew as his uncle—quickly blocked his path, slowly advancing on him once more.
Shit, shit, shit, shit. What was he going to do? He could turn around and make a run for it, but he needed that mirror, and it was right there.
Then it hit him. It was just like the other day when he had been playing basketball with Blaine. 'If you're defender gets right up on you, you can quickly spin around to get past him.'
So when the figure was nearly touching him, and his heart was pounding harder than ever before, Kurt took a deep breath and spun around, ducking under the ghostly arm and dashing towards the corner of the room. He managed to scoop up the mirror and turn it around, only to find the glass empty, showing only his dust-covered reflection. He was sure this was the one though, so he turned around. His path was blocked once more by his supposed uncle, and he was trapped, cornered. No level of basketball skills could help him as the creature raised one hand, not even touching him, and he went flying across the room again.
Kurt screamed, hugging the mirror to his chest as he soared through the air, landing painfully on his back. The air rushed out of the juniors lungs, and he struggled to regain it, vision shifting a little as his attacker drew near him again.
Suddenly, a ruffle of pages was heard, and Kurt could make out the shape of a book flying through the head of the creature. Both Kurt and his uncle turned their heads toward the door, to find Blaine standing in the threshold, arm extended and a serious-business look on his face.
"Blaine?" Kurt gasped, managing to regain some oxygen. "What the hell? Get out of here!"
The dark shadow descended upon Blaine now, reaching out it's long, claw-like fingers towards his face. Blaine braced himself for the contact, squeezing his eyes shut while Kurt scrambled to his feet. He could feel blood trickling down his back.
"Blaine! Run!" Kurt called as the shadow reached for him. Then, it's arm jerked to the side, swinging well away from the seniors head. Blaine's eyes reopened and he smiled broadly.
"Sweet! It worked!" he exclaimed. Kurt stood there for a moment dumbfounded, while the ghost continued to attempt to swipe at Blaine, missing miserably each time.
Next thing he knew, Blaine was standing right next to him and throwing some sort of leather chord over his head. He didn't have time to look and see what it was before Blaine had grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door.
As the pair exited the room, they heard a high pitched, nails-on-a-chalkboard screech come from behind them. Shivers running down their spines, Kurt and Blaine made it back into the room with the rocking chair and fire escape. They made it out of the window without further interruption or attack, and the two Warblers sprinted down the steps and over to Kurt's Navigator.
Blaine pulled the driver's side door open and rushed Kurt inside. The countertenor hissed as something dug into his back. The senior placed a quick kiss on his cheek before demanding that he drive and shutting the door. Kurt watched in his rear-view mirror as Blaine jumped into his own car and fastened his seat belt, then they sped away into the night.
There will be more, loves.
Criticism = Love
Love, Live, Sing