Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or "Paradise".
Note: This chapter is a little different, folks. The song is not sung by the actual characters, but rather, provides a background inner-monologue type-deal for the characters. This is the penultimate chapter! One more to go! Review, please. (And to the reviewer who said I'm their favorite fanfiction author—ohmygosh, thank you! You're so sweet! That's the biggest complement EVER!)
Note2: M CONTENT AHEAD. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Once upon a year gone by
She saw herself give in
Every time she closed her eyes
She saw what could have been
Kurt dusted himself off and walked into the bathroom at McKinley. Everything was fine, he thought. So what if Puck caught me burning myself all alone at my mother's grave? He won't tell anyone. Noah Puckerman might be an idiot—a very cute idiot—but he's not a snitch. I just need to get through the rest of this school year, or at least, through the rest of this month. He quietly locked himself in a stall to do his business.
It was too late, though. His tormenter had seen him go in.
He banged on the door. "Why are you hiding, fairy boy? I thought you liked to look at other boys' cocks."
Kurt closed his eyes, hoping that if he stayed silent, Karofsky would just go away.
"How's your little boyfriend, fairy? Oh, that's right, you don't have one. You're just a dirty slut, a worthless nothing."
Kurt sighed, zipping up his pants and waiting for Karofksy to retreat. He didn't.
"Dave, please go away," Kurt dared to call out.
"Well, since you asked politely…no, I won't," Karofsky sneered through the door.
"Dave, I'm not playing these games anymore. Please just leave me alone." Kurt unlocked the stall door, trying to push past Karofsky so that he could wash his hands. Karofksy wouldn't let him by.
"I love these games. And so do you. Just admit it, Kurt. You love me."
"No, Dave. Your twisted mind has led you to believe so."
Karofsky pushed Kurt back into the stall. "Twisted, am I?" Kurt stopped breathing. He knew That Voice. It was that Dangerous voice, the one that let him know he was about to get the shit kicked out of him once again. Karofsky whipped a rag out of his pocket and shoved it in Kurt's mouth, effectively gagging him. Kurt tried to scream out, but could not find his voice. It was once again lost.
"Now lay back and enjoy this," Karofksy whispered in that soft, dangerous voice of his. He unzipped Kurt's pants, pulling down Kurt's silk boxers. He moaned at his second sighting of Kurt's manhood, and flipped Kurt over so that he was on his knees. Kurt gulped. He knew what was coming, and there was nothing he could do about this. Karofksy wasted no time in getting undressed from the waist down and taking Kurt. Kurt whimpered as the football player entered him, but forced himself not to cry this time. He had forgotten how to fight back. He did not want to fight back, not this time. He was too tired to fight back.
Well nothing hurts, and nothing bleeds
When covers tucked in tight
Funny when the bottom drops
How she forgets to fight... to fight
Karofsky finished in a few minute's time, wiping himself off on Kurt's shirt. "Say you love me," he whispered hotly into Kurt's ear. "Show me that you love me." He tugged on Kurt's manhood, trying to get it aroused. He smiled as it sprung to life against Kurt's will. "Yes, that's it. Show Dave that you love him." He turned Kurt over so that he was facing him. Then he bent down and worked his tongue on Kurt, causing Kurt to whimper once again. Kurt never imagined that something that could feel so good could feel so wrong at the same time, could feel so very good and so very bad, could make him feel amazing and make him feel dirty and horrible. No longer in control of his actions, he released himself into Karofsky's mouth. "Yeah, that's it," Karofsky moaned. "Horny little slut, Kurt is." He finally pulled up his pants, leaving Kurt exposed and gagged on the bathroom floor. Kurt, as soon as he knew that his tormentor was gone, took the rag out of his mouth, finally breathing for real. He shakily pulled up his boxers and his trousers, and got up off the floor. He made his way over to the sink, buttocks hurting from where Karofksy had so roughly penetrated him. He washed his hands slowly, staring at his reflection in the mirror.
"Fuck them all," he said to his mirror-self.
And it's one more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
Kurt limped on out of the bathroom, walking straight into Puck.
"Kurt," Puck's eyes lit up. "There you are. I've been looking for you. I have to tell you something…"
"Don't," Kurt cut him off. "Don't tell me anything. I've heard enough, Noah."
"But Kurt, I think you need to hear this," Puck said, grabbing Kurt's wrist as he tried to walk off. The sudden move made Kurt gasp, reminding him of Karofsky.
"I don't want to hear it," Kurt whispered in a shaky voice. "I really don't want to."
"Kurt, just give me two minutes. You owe me that much."
Kurt forced himself to look into Puck's eyes. They burned with passion and fire. Fire…fire…Kurt needed some fire right now.
"I really care about you," Puck said. "I really, really do. And Kurt, you really need someone to care about you right now. I'm willing to, um, be a friend to you. Or more if you want. I've always wanted to make out with a guy at least once. And since you have feelings for me and all," Puck ran a hand through his Mohawk, "maybe we could, you know, hang out and make out or something. If you wanted to, of course."
Kurt stared at Puck. "I…Puck, I don't know what to say…"
"Well, 'yes' would be nice."
"I can't," Kurt said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Puck, but I can't. I love you, but I can't. I just can't. Karofsky, he…I just can't, Puck. I…I have to go." And with that, he ran off, not taking another look back.
As darkness quickly steals the light
That shined within her eyes
She slowly swallows all her fear
And soothes her mind with lies
As Kurt went to the Navigator, he found Santana waiting for him.
"Kurt, hey, I texted you last night. Why didn't you text me back?"
"Dead battery," he flawlessly lied.
"Oh," she looked surprised. "Well, I was just making sure you were okay, is all."
"Yep, fine," he said, going around to the driver's side of the car.
"Kurt, you're limping. What happened?"
He looked at her, straight into her soulful eyes, and all at once, she knew what had happened. "No," she whispered, eyes pooling with tears. "Kurt, no." He nodded, unable to look at her for a moment longer. She ran over to his side, sliding an arm around him. "I thought he…I thought you…" Kurt stood as still as a stone. "Kurt, how could he?" Kurt slid out from her grasp. He opened the door and got in the car, slamming the door closed behind him. "Kurt," Santana called through the tightly sealed window. He put the keys in ignition, started the engine, and sped off. "Kurt!" Santana screamed after the car that was driving off into the Ohio sunset. She dropped to her knees and began to cry for this, her fallen angel. Without a thought, she went to her own car, bringing out an emergency razor that she kept stored under her mirror. She dragged it across her wrist softly, leaving a thin, pink line. She made one for Kurt, and then another for herself alongside it. Twin cuts, twin pains, twin lives.
Well, all she wants and all she needs
Are reasons to survive
A day in which the sun will take
Her artificial light... her light
Puck ran blindly out of the building, searching for somebody, anybody. He scanned the parking lot for Kurt's car, and did not see it. He did, however, spot Santana's car off in the distance, and he ran towards it desperately. He found Santana with a shiny, new razor in her hands, and fresh lines running across her wrists. He banged on the door angrily. "Puck!" she screamed, rolling down the window quickly.
"What the HELL are you doing, Santana?" He demanded of his ex-flame.
"Letting it all out," she said stoically.
"Letting WHAT out? Besides your friggin' BLOOD, that is?"
"My pain," she said. "Mine…and Kurt's," she looked him dead in the eye.
"How you do know about…and what do you mean, YOUR pain?"
"My pain," she repeated. "You wouldn't know about that. Nobody does. Except for Kurt. And you'd know, too, if you just opened your eyes once in a while, Puckerman."
"So what am I supposed to do, just stand here and watch you bleed? And yesterday, was I just supposed to stand there and watch Kurt fuckin' burn himself?"
Santana winced. "Yes. You are supposed to watch this all happen. Because there's nothing you can do. We're just going to do what we do." And with that, she rolled up her window and drove off, leaving Puck standing mercilessly in the dimming parking lot.
And it's one more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
It's one more day in paradise
One last chance to feel alright... alright
So there they were, both of them, driving off into that bright Ohio sunset. There was Kurt in his Navigator, and Santana in her Focus. Both in different cars, with different reasons for their pain that day, but with such similar stories that involved a confusing and difficult to understand sexuality. Both of them with one last chance to feel alright. Kurt drove off in aimless circles, both going everywhere and nowhere. He briefly contemplated going to Dalton to visit Blaine, but decided against it. Santana, too, drove aimlessly. She wanted to go to Brittany's house and wrap her up in her arms, to tell her that she loved her, and to once more share sweet lady kisses with her. But she could not, for Brittany had made it clear that she was not about to leave Artie.
"Goddamn," Santana swore, hitting her steering wheel violently. Somewhere, unbeknownst to her, Kurt was doing the same. They drove and drove and drove until they almost couldn't see straight anymore. Kurt wished that he could just drive into the Sun, that it would engulf him in one big ball of fire, that he would die within its flames. He wanted so much to die. What was the point of living if he was constantly kicked around and beaten up? What was the point of living if he was just going to be raped every time he walked into a bathroom or locker room in which his abuser was? Kurt just felt so dirty all the time, so dirty, like a goddamn whore.
Don't pretend to hold it in, just let it out
Don't pretend to hold it in, just push it out
Don't you try to hold it in, just let it out and
Don't you try to hold it in, you hold it in
Santana closed her eyes briefly, trying not to let it all catch up with her. She breathed in and slowly exhaled, trying to let all the negativity leave her as she was taught to do in her Yoga class. Inhale positivity, and exhale negativity. No matter how many times she tried to do these cleansing breaths, she just couldn't get all that negativity out. It was all just in there, just all bottled up deep within her. She closed her eyes again, driving, quite literally, blindly. She felt herself press down a little harder on the gas pedal, driving recklessly. She opened her eyes and saw the bright light in front of her. She screamed, felt the crushing impact, and everything went black. "Kurt," she murmured as she descended into the madness.
And it's one more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
It's one more day in paradise
One last chance to feel alright... alright
Kurt drove past the accident without a second thought, shaking his head for a moment at the stupid head-on collision. How many of them had happened on this road? It was so senseless, that so many people would get into accidents at this series of hairpin turns. Such a dangerous area, yet people were lured to it somehow. For a fleeting moment, he thought he recognized that Ford Focus, but then decided against it. There were so many of them in Ohio that this one wouldn't make much more of a difference. The odds that this accident involved someone he knew were one in a million, and so, he thought nothing of it. Sure, it could have been him in that position, but it was not, and for that, he was glad. But he was only glad for a moment. He wanted to die, after all. He wasn't sure when, or how, but he wanted to do it, and soon. He had to, before he got hurt again. He drove on by the accident without a second glance, without seeing the former cheerleader be pulled from the wreckage with smooth, jagged cuts running across her tanned wrists.
Once upon a year gone by
She saw herself give in
Every time she closed her eyes
She saw what could have…been