"-gaaAAAHHH!"

He wakes up with a start, literally shooting out of his bed and stumbling across the floor before he falls onto his knees with another scream. His face is covered in sweat, the curls knocked loose from sleep are plastered across his face, and he can barely breathe because his heart is racing so wildly inside his chest. Blaine doesn't realize where he is until the panicked voices from the hallway reach his locked door.

I'm in my room. I'm in my room. This is where I live. I sleep here. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm… I'm, I'm fine. Blaine, you're fine.

He chokes out, "I'm fine! Just a dream!" But it's too quiet to be heard above the knocking. There are four hands rapping on the wooden frame now, and he wishes them away, unable to speak again in fear of never catching his breath.

Part of him wishes he wouldn't. That he would just choke on his surroundings and fade back into the darkness that saved him during his suffering.

"Blaine! Sweetie! Blaine, open the door honey." The voices turn to whispers, but everything is so still- it is one am, Blaine thinks- and he can hear every hushed syllable his parents try to hide from him through the wall.

"Cath I think it's time to look at alternate solutions, he's not- he's not getting any better. How dare you! We're not sending our baby away. We can't, Michael, I can't lose him again. Cath, we'll lose him if he stays here. He needs to get out, out of Lima. Sending him away won't solve the problem! I can't lose him again. I won't. Dalton's safer than McKinley! He hasn't been to school in weeks! Maybe a little scenery change will help him get past- I said no, Michael. Cath you can't keep doing this! You're preventing him from- I'm preventing him from being attacked agai- Oh! Blaine!"

Blaine opens the door, eyes wet with frustration and torment. He's panting from the panic attack he's just had, and his mother's giving him a look. His eyes say, 'Don't.'

Blaine wipes the curls out of his eyes, and looks at his father.

"What's Dalton?"

He's convinced himself to smile again. Well, sort of. It feels more like invisible tape is stretched around his head, and if he wants people to leave him alone it moves, pulling his lips into a straight line instead of a frown. The only thing keeping him from imploding is the little piece of paper currently clutched into the palms of his hands.

It reads:

Dear Blaine,

Congratulations! The admissions selection committee here at the Dalton Academy School for Boys would like to extend you an invitation to join our community for the forthcoming spring semester!-

Below the paragraph that encourages him to accept his scholarly duty, and take the next step in shaping his life- okay, he really smiles at that. How cheesy can this place be?- there's a name.

Sebastian Smythe.

He hasn't had much contact with the outside world since his attack, let alone teenage boys, and he's a little afraid to start that part of his life again. He wonders what his new roommate is like, but not for too long because those thoughts always lead back to McKinley… to Kurt.

Blaine lets out a sigh and stuffs the paper securely into his desk drawer. He finds it then, a picture of the Blaine he used to be. The old Blaine is smiling, hands grabbing the wrists of a familiar face. They're hugging one another, Kurt from behind, and he grips the frame a little tighter as if he's making a statement.

The picture finds itself in the trash, along with everything that reminds Blaine of his 'past' life. His cell phone doesn't make the cut though. Blaine may think that throwing away pictures and mementos can rid him of those horrible memories, but in reality… he's still hoping they'll call.

They won't.

He won't.

Not anymore… Blaine's parents had made sure of that.

Friday, 10:50pm "Blaine Anderson, you're lucky I love you because I've chosen to forgive you! You're welcome, by the way. Where are you? I'll come pick you up so we can talk. Call me."

Friday, 10:53pm "Answer the phonnnneeee!"

Friday, 11:20pm "Blaine, listen, I'm sorry we fought. Call me. Please answer you're phone so you can tell me where you are. It's getting late, and I'm getting worried. Love you."

Friday, 11:46pm "Blaine, I've called you like… a million times. I'm starting to think you might not be okay. Call me back before I do something stupid like call the cops…. I love you."

Friday, 11:58pm "I called your parents. They said you haven't gotten home yet. I've driven around this stupid bar so many times I'm getting dizzy... we…. we found your tie, and- Please call me back…. God, please be okay."

Saturday, 12:06am "Answer your phone, please… please answer your phone."

Wednesday, 3:00pm "Hey, Blaine. I… I heard you're back. Call me, okay? I love… just… call me, okay?"

Wednesday, 6:00pm "Blaine, I need to hear your voice, anything. Something so I can believe you're okay. All of this is my fault. Please call me. We need to talk."

Thursday, 1:00pm "You probably won't hear this. Your parents stopped by today... They said- Ugh… I'm probably just talking to myself right now…. stupidstupidstupid. I miss you. I… I just, miss you. Goodbye Blaine."

He'd deleted every single message, but he'd listened to them so many times they'd find him in dreams. Serving as constant reminders of how many people he'd disappointed since the attack.

His father had promised him that Dalton would fix these feelings. That'd he would be able to make himself better again. Blaine wanted to believe him, but until he got there… until he met his classmates and put on the blazer, until he stopped having nightmares and met this… Sebastian guy…. He wasn't sure if making himself better was possible.

He hoped it was.

He needed it to be.