"Kurt sweetie, are you okay? You've barley touched your food."

Kurt looked up and found Carole looking at him worriedly. What was more, his dad was frowning at him.

"I'm... not really hungry tonight. Big lunch." He tried, but judging by his dad's deepening frown, it was the wrong thing to say.

"Kurt." His dad leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Carole worked hard on this meal. Eat some."

And he complied. He hated seeing those disappointed looks directed towards him, and Carole's small smile made it almost bearable. His diet would just have to suffer a blow.

Later, just one thought stayed in his head as he fell asleep.

Thank god for spring break. Just a few days to go.

It was a major plus that his birthday occurred on the first day of freedom. And the day after his birthday, the Hummel-Hudson clan would be going up to the old Hummel cabin for some proper family bonding.

Maybe that would heal the rift Kurt saw between him and the other three.

And he wouldn't have to see Sam for a whole week; no constant reminders of how failed he was.

Yet things rarely seemed to work as he wanted them to.

-ooo-

He should have noticed that something was off in his room. He should have noticed Sam's dangerous leer as he pushed Kurt down against the mattress.

When Sam started tearing at his clothes, pressing down dangerously hard on his windpipe, something clicked in his head. This was wrong. This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"N-No!" He tried, but it barely came out as a whine. Sam was looming over him.

"11.58 PM. Two minutes until your birthday." Then with a lower, mocking voice, "This is what you want, isn't it?"

And then pain. Sharp, unbearable pain. Sam wasn't pressing against his throat any more, he was keeping Kurt's hands pinned down instead. He should scream. Call for help.

But he couldn't make a sound. The pain was overwhelming. The pain and the sense of panic, distress and disgust. This wasn't how his first time was supposed to be.

"Happy Birthday, fag."

The last thing he saw before he passed out was Sam's perfectly awful Colgate smile.

-ooo-

Waking up was nerve-racking. Sam wasn't there any more and for a wonderful moment, Kurt hoped everything had been a bad dream. Then the pain came, soon followed by the tears and shame.

There was a weird sense of detachment as he finally managed to hoist himself to the bathroom and collapse in the shower. He wasn't bleeding profusely, but the sight of the red liquid was enough to turn his stomach inside-out.

Through the despair, Kurt was surprisingly happy that Finn wasn't sharing his basement. No one could see him like this. He had to get everything together, pull up the façade again.

His dad would be down in a few hours to wake him up with German pancakes, as was their birthday tradition. With that in mind, Kurt managed to get himself out of the shower, disinfect and treat the injuries, and pull on a pair of pyjamas that covered the bruiser. Sam never touched his face or arms. Not hard enough to leave bruises.

His bed was a mess. The sight of blood and semen was enough to make him want to heave again. He became aware of a rib on his left side that ached terribly. He should probably bandage that, in case it was broken.

Kurt was in the middle of tugging of the bed linen and shoving them under the bed - he would burn them as soon as he got a chance - when he noticed something that made him want to laugh hysterically.

Rubber sheets covering his mattress. Sam had planned this whole thing.

And while he was thankful he wouldn't have to burn his mattress, it only made the whole thing more surreal and frightening.

He somehow managed to throw on some new bed linen before he collapsed, curling up and letting the tears fall.