A/N: I really needed to write this. Enjoy.

All went okay (sort of) for me for two weeks after Finn found me. He told no one, and I was thankful for that. However, I found it unnerving that he seemed to be breathing down my neck all the time. He started leaving his door open at night in case I stirred, wouldn't let me leave the table until my meal was finished, and he even started standing outside the bathroom while I was in it (which was VERY awkward for the both of us.) While it was very irritating; it was working. I hadn't used a single laxative OR thrown up since he found me.

I had been eating and I hadn't been gaining weight; something I was very happy about. Finn and I went to the gym almost every day; I would always box and he would work some of the other equipment around me; never letting me leave his sight. Some days, Kurt would even come to the gym and watch me box, as though he was there for the moral support. It didn't hurt to be with Kurt anymore; I felt like I didn't have to hide from him; I was slowly but surely healing again. And to think it was all Finn's doing.

Kurt and I had stopped our one on one therapy and he had been sent to a certified therapist; they told him to start getting out more and starting seeing more of his friends again. It had been almost a month since the incident and he had seen no one but his family.

Things were going alright; I was happier. I wouldn't say I was HAPPY but I was happier than I was. I felt pretty good actually; I felt good about myself. It had been a while since I felt this good about myself. Kurt was becoming his old self again; he was laughing more, smiling more. We were slowly picking up the pieces of ourselves. But nothing could ever stay that way, could it?

It was a normal evening in the middle of the summer; Kurt and I were cuddled up on the living room couch watching TV and sharing lazy kisses. These were my favorite kind of days; we'd go to the gym in the morning, I'd shower, and then we'd both cuddle on the couch until the sun went down.

"Hey babe, I'm not really hungry for dinner, so I was just going to get something to snack on. Do you want anything?" Kurt asked me

"Can I just share with you?"

"No. You can't" He said with a sarcastic smile. I grinned back at him as he sat up. He planted a chaste kiss on my lips before walking into the kitchen. I turned my attention back to the TV.

Kurt was only gone for a few minutes when the doorbell rang.

"Blaine can you get that?" Kurt yelled from the kitchen

"Yup, on it now." I said, standing up from the couch and walking to the door. When I opened the door, I didn't except to see who was standing there.

"You little fag." The deeper voice said, storming into the house uninvited.

I froze. My father shoved me up against the wall, just like he had just a few weeks prior.

"You think you can just LEAVE me? You're wrong Blaine, you're wrong." He whispered harshly. He slapped me across the face. His face was just inches from mine; it was then I knew he was drunk. I could smell the alcohol on his lips.

"You are worthless. You are nothing. And I'm going to kill you." He said dipping into his pocket. He pulled out a razor blade, and held it to my throat.

"BLAINE!" I heard a higher pitched voice yell

"DAD! CAROLE! FINN! HELP PLEASE HELP!" Kurt screamed at the top of his lungs

"Oh, is this your faggy boyfriend?" my father slurred. He released me from his grip.

"I'm going to kill him first. It'll kill you more to watch HIM die, than to actually kill you. You have no quality of life anyway." He continued to slur. He ran over to Kurt, grabbing him by the shirt collar. Kurt was pale white, trembling under the grip of my father. He held the blade to Kurt's neck

"GET YOU'RE FILTHY HANDS OFF HIM!" I screamed, running over and grabbing my father. I threw him down to the ground; now I was in control

"What the hell is going .. WHAT THE HELL?" Burt screamed, now entering the living room. I watched as Carole entered, mortified.

"FINN! CALL 911!" Burt screamed, running over to me

"Blaine, what the hell?"

"THE BASTARD TRIED TO KILL ME. HE TRIED TO KILL KURT, HE'S GOT A RAZOR IN HIS HAND." I yelled nervously; my volume pumped by adrenaline.

Burt got down on his knees, pinning down my father.

I turned to see Carole holding Kurt; both of them watching Burt. Kurt was shaking; his eyes swimming with tears. Finn entered the room, now holding Carole and Kurt. Help was on the way.

"What the HELL is wrong with you? Coming in MY HOUSE and trying to kill BLAINE? Trying to Kill MY SON? THIS IS YOUR SON! GAY OR NOT! Blaine is double the man you'll EVER be. No REAL man would attempt to kill his SON or his son's BOYFRIEND. Why would you ever even be CONSIDERED a father? You might be the biological creator of Blaine, but that doesn't make you the FATHER. You are NOT a man, Mr. Anderson. You are a COWARD, ROTTEN NO GOOD BASTARD. You're the reason I believe there's a HELL Mr. Anderson." Burt yelled into the face of my father.

It wasn't five minutes before the police and an EMT crew was in the Hummel household. The police had taken my father away and had contacted my mother, while the EMT crew checked over Me, Kurt, Burt and my father. They had eventually left the household; leaving us with nothing other than terror. I held Kurt as he sobbed in fear; trying to calm him down.

I hated my father. I hated him with every part of me. He tried to take away the only thing that is precious to me; my beautiful, loving, Kurt. Kurt didn't deserve this; none of us DESERVED it. Hadn't we all been through enough?

"What did we do to deserve this?" Kurt whispered, letting another tear fall from his eye.

"We don't deserve it." I said to him, holding him in my arms.

He had eventually fallen asleep in my arms; so I carried him up to his room bridal style. I laid him down in his bed, tucking him gently under the covers. I left him to sleep, not without first kissing him softly on the lips. I walked to my room and shut the door behind me.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to feel. My father tried to kill me. He'd hurt me before, but he had never tried to end my life. Was I really worth that little? I had felt so much better the past two weeks; why did I have to feel so low again?

Knock Knock.

"Come In." I said calmly. I opened the door to see Finn.

"Hey Blaine." He said, stepping in the room and shutting the door behind him

"Hi."

"Can I talk to you?" He asked

"Sure." I gestured for him to sit at the edge of my bed

"Blaine, I'm really sorry today had to happen. You don't deserve any of it." He said

"Thanks Finn."

"Blaine, I know this was hard for you. But after It happened, you didn't even focus on yourself. You focused on Kurt. And that's so brave of you, Blaine. You pushed everything you felt aside to be there for Kurt."

"Of course I did. I love him and I'm not going to let anything hurt him."

"I know that. It's really admiral; how much you care about him. But you need to focus on yourself too." Finn said

"I only need to focus on Kurt. What happens to me can be taken care of after he's okay."

"Blaine, you've been doing so well. I don't want you to relapse."

"I'm not going to relapse again, Finn. I feel fine." I answered. I was feeling angry. And I certainly wasn't feeling fine. But didn't he see Kurt was more important right now?

"Yeah, and I bet you said that last time you recovered too, Blaine." Finn said agitated.

"Finn, I promise. I'm not going to puke again."

"Swear to me?"

"Yes Finn." I said, clearly annoyed.

"Alright. Goodnight Blaine." Finn said, giving me an awkward hug before standing up.

"I'm not going to bed yet; I'm gonna shower first. But goodnight." I said to Finn. He smiled sympathetically before leaving the room. I sighed and gathered my pajamas to take to the bathroom.

My thoughts were getting the best of me. I couldn't help but replay my father's words in my head. You Fag. You're worthless. You have no quality of life. You're worthless. You fag.

I gritted my teeth together, the harsh words cutting my heart. I tried to fight them with counter thoughts. I wasn't worthless, I had Kurt and Finn and the Hummel's. I undressed and stepped into the shower.

You Fag. You're worthless. You have no quality of life. You're worthless. You Fag.

The same thoughts ran through my head as I washed my hair; freeing it of its' jelly helmet.

You are nothing.

I felt tears welding up in my eyes as I washed my body; scrubbing over my chest, my legs, my face, my back. The evil thoughts were winning; I couldn't escape. I was nothing.

I turned to face the in-shower mirror that was suctioned to the wall; grabbing my razor from its holder. I picked up the can of shaving cream and rubbed some on my face; preparing to shave the little stubble I had acquired over the past few days. I looked at my razor.

A razor. My father had a razor. My father tried to kill me and Kurt with a razor. I stared at it; blinking in tears. How would it have felt; feeling the sharp blade on my neck?

I felt like I was going to be sick. I needed to puke. But I promised Finn; I promised him I wouldn't relapse. He'd be so disappointed. I needed a new escape; that's when my eyes flickered to my razor.

I understood why people cut and why they felt it would help, but I had never thought of doing it. But how would it feel? Maybe so many others did it because it worked.

I turned my wrist over and let the blade rest on the skin; preparing myself for what I was about to attempt. But I stopped. I couldn't do it on my wrist; Kurt or Finn would notice. I shook as I moved the blade over my chest; resting it on the skin that covered my heart.

I let the blade run across the skin; reddening the area before it actually cut through. It was painful; it stung worse than anything I've ever felt. But I had to keep going; I had to release these thoughts. I had to feel better. I needed a way out.

The blade continued to rip through my skin and it wasn't two minutes before there was a visible drop of redness, pooling over the area. I quickened the pace of the moving blade as more and more blood appeared; I had never been so scared in my life; but never had I felt so alive. I felt my pain rushing out through my body with my blood. I moved the razor and began to surface another cut; one after another after another. I felt so free. I had to get the pain out. I was meant for this. I had found a new way out of myself; and no one ever had to know. I cleaned the blade, and slightly cleaned the wound before turning off the shower head. I stepped out of the shower and grabbed my brown towel; drying myself off. I spent a few extra seconds drying off my new cuts; my new escape. No one ever had to know.

Post A/N: I am RELENTLESS on poor Blaine. :( Review, please.