Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. Also, I don't own "Concrete Angel".
Note: Third song-based chapter in a row, I know. I'll try to break it up in the next chapter. My friend sent me a ton of songs that relate to this week's Glee "theme", and I'll try to use what I can. I want the songs to match the student's personality and personal story, if that makes sense. Oh, and thanks for the great reviews!
Mr. Schue sighed. "Well, yesterday's rehearsal certainly was interesting." The club turned and glared at Rachel, who wouldn't look back at them. "I hesitate to ask, but does anyone else have a domestic abuse-related song they'd like to share with us?" To their surprise, it was Tina who raised her hand. "Tina?" Mr. Schue asked, perplexed.
"I have a song," she said. "A serious one this time," she said, recalling the last solo she'd done, which was My Funny Valentine; she'd broken down not even half-way through the song, and they'd all been a bit freaked out.
"That's great; go ahead," Will said.
With a sweep of her long black skirt, she strode confidently to the front of the room. "This is one of my personal favorite songs. It's more about child abuse than about boyfriend/girlfriend abuse, or spousal abuse, but I think it'll work. It's called Concrete Angel, by Martina McBride."
She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she's holdin' back
Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with linen and lace
Kurt instinctively slid down in his seat, tugging on his shirt sleeves. Somewhere across the room, Santana was doing the same thing, unbeknownst to Kurt. Kurt could sense he was in for an uncomfortable few minutes as he listened to this song that he could relate so much to right now. Nobody knows what I'm holding back, he sung in his mind.
The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born
Mr. Schue looked at Kurt, then at Santana. He noticed both of them acting oddly out of character; Santana was slouched down so far in her seat that her butt was hanging off the edge, and Kurt had pulled his hat down over his eyes, which were closed. The teacher wonders, but she doesn't ask… Meanwhile, Kurt and Santana were both wishing they'd never been born.
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel
Replace "she" with "he", Kurt thought, and it could almost be me. Except I'll never fly to a place where I'm loved. I'm not loved, not at all. At least the "stands hard as a stone in a world that she can't rise above" part pertained to me, he thought, as the voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he wasn't good enough, never good enough.
Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When morning comes it'll be too late
Kurt hid behind his hands, trying to push it all away. This song was all too real to him, even more real than Tell Me Why was, and almost as real as Love the Way You Lie was. He balled his hands into fists, pushing them against his eyes, as if trying to rub out the memories forever. But of course, he couldn't do that. He never could do that.
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel
Santana looked away. She couldn't look at Sam, or even at Brittany. She really, really couldn't look at Brittany. She saw her holding hands with Artie, and she couldn't stand it, she just couldn't stand the sight of them together. What didn't Brittany get about her heartfelt confession to her? Why couldn't Brittany understand that Santana wanted her, just her, and only her, forever?
A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot
That's me, Kurt thought. A broken heart that this cold, cruel world has forgotten. They forgot about me a long time ago; turned their backs on me a long time ago. How long would it be, he thought in the recesses of his mind, would it be before I end up the name on that polished rock?
Through the wind and the rain
She stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can't rise above
But her dreams give her wings
And she flies to a place where she's loved
Concrete angel
Kurt couldn't stand it anyone, just couldn't stand it anymore. As much as he loved Tina, he couldn't sit here and listen to her sing this song anymore. He stood up as she sang "but her dreams give her wings". By the time she was singing "and she flies to a place where she's loved," he was walking out of the room. And by the time she sang the final "concrete angel," Kurt was out the door and down the hall. He could feel their stares the entire time, but he didn't care. He just needed to get out of there, to get back to his flames, to what he knew and loved so well. He heard footsteps behind him, surely one of the Glee kids, but he started to run. "Kurt, wait!" He heard Finn call out. But Kurt didn't wait, he just kept running until he was out of the building, far away from those who cared about him (cared too much, Kurt couldn't help but to think).
He ducked behind the dumpster…oh, that dumpster, he thought. How many times had he been tossed into its depths? He reached around in his bag for what he needed, what he wanted. "Oh, thank God," he whispered, locating the book of matches. He quickly lit one and stared at it, at the flames. He threw it on the gravel and watched it burn out slowly. He struck another one and stared at it again. This time, he lit a stray piece of paper on fire, watching the words crumble. He watched as an old French test crackled and burned, the verbs becoming a meaningless jumble as they smoldered into nothing. He lit just one more match and threw it into the dumpster before running like hell. What had made him do that?
Flames.