Three agonising hours later, after they had all been questioned by the police and their parents were called, most of the glee club had gone home; all except for three, who refused to leave.
Sam and Tina had yet to release each other's hands, while Finn paced up and down, twisting his fingers anxiously behind his back.
The Andersons couldn't be reached, just as absent as they had been the year before when their son was nearly blinded with rock salt. Now, in a situation a million times worse, it was an impatient secretary who answered their phone calls, assuring them she would pass on a message as soon as she could. Cooper, Blaine's older brother, was on his way, but flights were delayed and he wouldn't be there anytime soon. Essentially, his friends were all Blaine had.
Finn kept pacing back and forth, trying to get the image of his friend's bloody and broken body out of his mind. Tina and Sam were clinging to each other, crying silently.
The waiting room doors burst open.
"Finn!" cried Carole as she rushed in, a white-faced Burt on her heels. They both pulled him into a hug at the same time. "Oh, baby, are you okay?"
"Mom," he said angrily. "It's Blaine that's not okay. Some bastard just...attacked him, and I didn't do anything!" Tears pooled in his eyes and he suddenly felt so angry at himself. "I just watched, mom! I didn't do anything!"
"Finn!" cried Tina, grabbing a hold of his wrist. "It's not your fault! That psycho had a gun to Blaine's head!"
Burt placed a hand on his shoulder, the weight somehow comforting. "You did all you could, buddy," he said firmly.
Finn let Carole pull him down into a plastic chair, and he sat between his parents as the group waited in tense silence.
"Family of Blaine Anderson?"
All five collectively jumped to their feet as a tall, handsome doctor approached with a clipboard. His blue eyes were kind behind dark framed glasses, the slightest of wrinkles on his face and a hint of grey in his fair hair. He appeared the epitome of kindness and wisdom.
"I'm Doctor Lannigan. Are any of you his parents or guardians?" he asked.
"No, but his parents are currently overseas and we weren't able to contact them," said Carole, biting her lip. "The Andersons gave us permission to act as his guardians in the past, though."
"Then I'll have to ask you to do so again, Mrs...?"
"Carole Hummel, and this is my husband Burt," she said. "These are Blaine's best friends, Tina Cohen-Chang, Sam Evans, and our son Finn."
Dr Lannigan smiled and shook each of their hands. "Let's get this over with, then. We've had to sedate Mr Anderson temporarily in order to stop the bleeding but hospital procedure requires a parent or guardian to be present when we do the rape kit, if you would."
Finn, Sam and Tina all winced at the mention of the word 'rape'. Burt swallowed heavily before volunteering himself, knowing that his wife would not be able to cope seeing Blaine like that. Both of them thought of him as a third son, but Burt was stronger and more able to handle situations like this.
"Thank you, sir," the doctor said kindly. "We'll go through and proceed with that in a moment, but first I wanted to check that you're aware of the next few steps in his recovery. Mr Anderson will need to get back in touch with his therapist and may also need to be prescribed some anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications again."
Sam, Tina and Finn exchanged shocked looks. "Again?"
The doctor was sympathetic. "Unfortunately, this isn't the first time Mr Anderson has been assaulted like this. I'm sorry, I'm not at leisure to disclose the details. All I can say is that he will need a lot of love and care from his friends and family throughout his recovery...Mr Hummel, if you will follow me."
As Burt and the doctor left, Sam uncharacteristically burst into tears. Startled, Tina threw her arms around him and pulled his head onto her shoulder, rubbing his back. Carole took her son's hand, watching his heartbroken expression as Sam completely broke down in front of them.
"Why Blaine?" he sobbed into Tina's neck. "Why? Why?"
When Blaine woke up he became aware that once again, he was lying in a hospital bed. And, once again, he was alone.
Coming to, he felt a fiery pain in his thighs and all along his lower half. He winced as he shifted his weight on the bed, and started to raise himself into a sitting position. His arms were shaky and as he looked down, he saw that they were covered in dark purple bruising, some in the shape of fingerprints.
It all hit him at once.
Oh god oh god no no nonononono please no please it hurts stop nonono!
His breaths came in short, staccato gasps as the memories rushed to the front of his mind. Blaine's whole body was trembling and the room was spinning.
Suddenly there was a gentle pressure on his hand, and a familiar voice whispering in his ear.
"Shhh, Blaine, it's okay. You're safe now. I'm here."
He gradually came back to himself, realising he was clutching a paper bag in his fist and had been hyperventilating into it. Tears and sweat coated his face and his other hand was being held in a death grip by his best friend, whose green eyes were swollen from crying, too.
Blaine launched himself at Sam, burying his head in his chest and seizing handfuls of the blonde's shirt. His screams were muffled, yet still agonised and full of despair. Sam encouraged him to let it out, stroking his hand through Blaine's ungelled hair.
"You're safe, B," the blonde promised quietly. "I won't let anyone hurt you, I'll always be here for you."
"Sammy," the distressed boy cried.
"I'll never leave you, B," he swore. "You've always got me. I'll take care of you."
"I love you, Sam," the tearful boy muttered before his breathing evened out and he fell asleep in his best friend's lap.
"I love you, too, Blaine," Sam whispered, unable to stop the tears from falling at how broken Blaine had become.
His last name hadn't always been Anderson.
Once upon a time, Blaine Jackson had it all. His parents were wealthy and the family name was respected and influential. He wanted for nothing, and was raised to be the perfect gentleman - charming and polite.
Blaine was popular and had the perfect mix of academic and sporting ability. He had a large group of friends and girls mooning over him left, right and centre, but he didn't particularly care or show any interest.
It was a well-kept secret that he was gay. And that was fine with him. Until one of his father's friends figured it out.
Derek Tyler took an interest in him when he was fourteen, at the annual Jackson Christmas Party. All night he'd watched Blaine from a distance, a suspicious glint in his eye. Blaine had been wary, giving the man a wide berth and launching into conversations with his father's business partners and his mother's clients. Later his father introduced them, making awkward small talk whilst the man's predatory stares made Blaine anxious and uncomfortable.
During dinner he gulped down his glass of wine, hoping that the alcohol would sooth his twitchy nerves. All the while, Derek was eyeing him hungrily.
At 10:47pm that night, both Blaine Jackson and Derek Tyler disappeared.
Blaine was found three days later, tied to a bed in the basement of Tyler's home. He was naked and bleeding, cringing away from physical contact and trembling like a leaf.
Tyler was arrested immediately and faced life in prison.
The Jacksons were devastated. The strain of the legal process and caring for their traumatised son tore their family apart.
Blaine suffered from crippling nightmares and flashbacks, shying away from all of his mother's attempts at physical affection and refusing to drink anything except for bottled water for fear someone would slip something into his drink. He barely slept or ate, and before long he was the equivalent of a shaking, crying mess.
After a few weeks his father just couldn't cope anymore and lost his temper. The usually collected man screamed and raged, while his wife and son were frozen in shock and fear. Eventually he completely lost it, yelling, "This wouldn't have happened if you weren't a goddamn fag!"
The already fragile boy promptly burst into tears and ran upstairs to lock himself in his room.
His mother found him the next morning with slit wrists and a stomach full of pills.
A few months later, his parents separated. His mother moved them across the country to escape the past and start fresh. Blaine took her maiden name - Anderson.
He went to therapy and took his medication, and slowly started to get better. He let his mother hug him, though he was still wary of physical contact, and began to eat more. Gradually he became more relaxed and after a few months he was finally able to smile again.
Dalton Academy was a safe haven where Blaine was accepted and allowed to thrive. His friends helped him rebuild himself and grow into a dapper and confident young man. It was also where he met Kurt - proud, strong beautiful Kurt - who made him feel safe again; who made him feel loved.
That summer when he came home he was a completely different person. That summer when he came home his parents were getting back together.
Blaine was honestly disappointed in his mother - who had seemed like such a fierce, independent woman for the short period of time she'd stepped out of her husband's shadow - for going back to his father.
His obvious disapproval of their reunion made things tense and unpleasant with his parents, so they were around him less and less. Before he knew it they were spending most of the year travelling or on lengthy business trips together.
He was always left behind.
It was worse when Kurt left. Kurt was made for New York City, and Blaine knew that his boyfriend belonged there, but it didn't mean it hurt any less when he moved in with Rachel and got a job at Vogue dot com.
Blaine died inside a little every time Kurt ignored his texts and calls, or missed their Skype dates. Even when they did talk, Kurt cut him off to gush about his exciting new life. Before long they weren't even exchanging 'I love you' s anymore.
Sleeping with Eli was a drunken mistake, and telling Kurt was the hardest thing he'd ever done. His heartbroken expression was still burned in the back of Blaine's mind.
Sometimes he would pour the bottle of pills out into his hand, feeling the weight of them and wondering what it would be like to swallow them all. No one would miss him, and not even his mother would be there to find him afterwards.
With all the drama in his life, the last thing Blaine had expected was for his rapist to show up at McKinley.
Lying there on the cold floor with the last shred of dignity being ripped away from him, something inside him broke. Gone was the confident persona he'd built up after the therapy and sanctuary of Dalton and in its place was the damaged, traumatised boy who had tried to take his own life.
He cried for Sam - the only one he stayed for; the only one who kept him from ending it all.
And Sam was there, holding him and keeping him safe, making him feel loved and whole even after he'd been broken so badly. Others came and went, but Sam was always there.
Sam stayed.