This story includes graphic language, violence, murder, molestation and graphic attempted non-con; mentions of past non-con. 100% AU. Puck/Kurt, brief Finn/Kurt, OMC's/Kurt - This is fiction! Wonderful beta Lezi :)

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The Waiting Game / Part Six

While Kurt knows that he should do something-anything to prevent what is coming, his mind is racing and wavering, refusing to cooperate, and all he can manage to do is rock back and forth. He feels strong arms encircling his waist from behind, a phantom hug, and he closes his eyes as he blinks back tears. Kurt desperately wants to go back to sleep, to disappear, but there's a little voice telling him to hold on; the voice is soothing, familiar, and…

After a few moments, Kurt realizes who it is. "Puck?"

"Yeah, Kurt-It's me. Can you pick up the phone?" His voice is far away, faint.

Kurt's eyes pop open, and he swallows as he stretches for the phone. It's so close-he can almost reach it, just a little farther…

A sound comes from his right: the door handle jiggles and Kurt scuttles back on the couch, away from the phone. There is a light scratching noise, a faint clicking. The door handle moves, rotating, and Kurt swallows hard.

"He-He's here," Kurt gasps, desperately trying not to panic.

He can barely hear Puck's voice say, "I'm on my way, ten minutes. Hang tight, okay? I'll be there…"

The assurance does little to quell Kurt's nerves, but he takes what he can get.

Looking for some kind of escape, Kurt stands, getting up so fast his knees wobble. His vision beginning to blur. Light-headed, he grabs onto the back of the couch and takes a deep breath, pushing up his glasses and licking his lips. After a moment, his vision clears, and somehow, on shaky legs, he manages to walk the distance to Rachel's bedroom.

Kurt's heart skips a beat. He slams a hand over his mouth, terrified and trying not to make a sound, when...

"Kurt?"

Finn's voice is soft, almost worried and Kurt automatically inches backwards. His sock-clad feet hit the wall and he bites into the flesh of his palm to keep him from yelping.

"Kurt, come on, I just want to see you. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you-I just... I need to make sure you're okay. Please. I have to see you one last time, and then I promise I will leave you alone, please… Kurt?"

Footsteps echo throughout the house, creaking the floorboards. They're steadily getting closer and closer to where Kurt's hiding. He bites down harder as hot tears begin to spill down his face. When he opens his eyes next, he sees Finn's Converse pause at the bedroom's entrance.

"I know you're in here."

It hurts for him to breath. It's too late, he thinks. No matter what Finn does, he's going away for a very long time. The man has absolutely nothing to loose. Kurt shivers, swallowing hard, he can feel a steady stream of tears painting his cheeks. He can't hold back any longer, he has to breathe.

The moment he gasps in a breath, a cry erupts before a hand brushes his cheek. Kurt starts, slamming his head into the wooden frame. Black dots float before his vision and an overwhelming bout of nausea curdles his stomach.

"Breathe," Finn says, reaching in to grab his arms. A moment later, Kurt finds himself sitting on the bed with his head forced between his legs. Finn rubs circles on his lower back and instructs him to "breathe" over and over again. In any other situation it might have been soothing.

"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone?" It comes out choked and desperate. When the hand on his back stills. Kurt bites the inside of his cheek and sits up. "Please, go. Please, just… leave." He looks at the door.

... It's wide-open.

Kurt doesn't run.

"I'm really sorry about this-" Kurt's turns, brow furrowing, and before he knows what's happening, Finn cuffs him around the neck. And pulls him close. "But you're right, we do need to go." Kurt reaches up to claw at the constricting arm wrapped around him, his eye's huge. Kurt's mouth works as he tries to scream, but he can barely speak, much less cry for help.

Finn tightens his grip until Kurt's last breaths are choked out of him. Sweet nothings are whispered into Kurt's ear until his eyes slip shut.

:::

When Kurt wakes up and he finds himself alone in a car, panic instantly makes his head hammer in sync with his heart. His arm is strewn ackwardly across his chest and it hurts. His wrist is handcuffed to the door, and Kurt gives his arms a few experimental tugs. No matter how hard he pulls and yanks against the metal, the pain worsens-his wrist doesn't jerk free. Kurt huffs in annoyance.

The radio is playing, low and crackly-it's some old rock melody that Kurt vaguely recognizes from years back, working summer's in his father's garage. It's oddly comforting, but thinking of his dad makes Kurt's chest ache.

He's alone and it's dark outside, well into the middle of the night. He blinks and he realises, with some confusion, there is absolutely no traffic. Kurt reaches a hand up to his throat. It feels sore and raw, and just the thought of more bodily damage, more of this, brings fat tears to his eyes, blurring his vision.

Kurt's never felt fear for this long in his life.

Finn isn't around and the key is not in the ignition. Kurt looks around, quickly realising that they've stopped at an empty gas station. The car is tucked away in the shadows in the parking lot. He catches sight of Finn in the rearview mirror. The man is standing inside the gas stop's convenience store, paying at the register. Kurt takes a deep, stuttering breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He sniffles loudly, feeling all kinds of pathetic as he rubs his face into his shoulder of his shirt.

A few minutes later, the driver's side clicks open and Finn slides in. He has two grocery bags full of food and drinks. The thought of food makes Kurt's stomach growl. He groans in humiliation, but Finn doesn't notice as he dumps the bags in the backseat and turns to him.

He takes Kurt's face in his large hands, and Kurt's eyes fall shut. he swallows, Trying to flinch away when Finn's lips touch his. Kurt's head is firmly held in place, and Finn's warm tongue darts out to tease his lower lip. His breath smells sickeningly sweet like spearmint gum and nicotine. Kurt's stomach churns. He tries to back away, and Finn's grip eases and after one last kiss (this time sweet and chaste), he mercifully lets go.

"I know you don't trust me," Finn licks his lips, "And that's okay, I get it. But we've got a lotta time now, and-and I need you to know that I won't hurt you, Kurt. So long as you don't push me…" He trails off and sighs. "I just want to be with you."

It's a free pass, Kurt realizes, a way to shift the blame, should Finn happen to lash out again. Kurt doesn't know how to respond, so he doesn't. He's too afraid of saying the wrong thing (and what might happen if he does). So instead, he slightly turns back to the window. He pretends to ignore Finn's mewl of disappointment and instead concentrates on the soft pitter-patter of rain that is now falling.

It suits Kurt's mood. He settles back again, flexing his hand to help ease the circulation in his aching wrist. A bottle of water, a Tiger bar and a bag of Chex mix are set in his lap. Kurt's stomach rumbles again.

Even as he rips open the power bar, he doesn't say a word. Begging is useless: Finn doesn't listen and it, only seems to irritate him more each and every time.

But something is bothering him, and while he knows better, that it will only upset the agent sitting next to him, Kurt can't help but ask, "What happened to Puck?"

Finn's smile is ugly as he says, "He showed up just after you passed out." He pauses for suspense, and Kurt holds his breath. "I shot him. Don't worry, Kurt... He won't be bothering us again." The vehicle starts and Finn turns up the volume on the radio as they pull back onto the empty road.

Kurt stares out the window, unaware that he is trembling because all he feels is disturbing numbness. He takes a small bite of the power bar and tries his best not to react.

:::

They drive right through Fresno, and Kurt watches the businesses and houses disappear one by one as Finn takes them further north, up into the mountains. They the small dingy town that marks the center of California and keep going. As they drive further into the hills, the houses begin to look unkempt.

There are a few newer houses, but there's more chipped paint and rotted porches. Overgrown shrubs eat up lawns, and abandoned cars are parked front of quant houses, that, once upon a time, might have been considered the most beautiful on the block.

Kurt's heart aches.

It is raining a lot heavier now, and the wind is whipping wildly and rustling tree branches causing their car to sway a little to the side, every now and then.

Kurt wants to ask where they are going, to demand Finn stop the car but when he opens his mouth, he finds himself suddenly paralyzed. He can't move or speak-a helpless cry erupts from the back of his throat and Finn glances over at him.

"You okay?" He asks. Kurt shakes his head 'no' because it doesn't matter where they are going or what'll happen when they get there. He has no choice in the matter. A hand drops down on his thigh and Kurt can't contain his laugh. Kurt soon finds himself in full-blown hysterics.

Finn pulls off on the side of the road, all while Kurt watches him as closely as he can, even as he madly giggles. The hand on his thigh flexes-Finn's eyes are heavy upon him, his expression weary. he looks at Kurt like he's a time bomb, ready to explode.

Just a suddenly as it began, his laughter turns into something worse. Kurt pulls off his glasses even as he heaves ugly, messy sobs, and doesn't struggle when strong arms wrap around him. He's just so overwhelmed, desperate for a kind touch. Kurt cries himself to sleep in Finn's arms as the car idles on the shoulder of some unknown road.

When he wakes up, Kurt finds himself laying flat on a large bed. It looks more like someone's home instead of a motel. Kurt looks down at himself-he's been stripped down to a clean pair of boxers and nothing more; one of his wrists is handcuffed to a sleeping Finn's.

Thunder cracks above them, and each boom of thunder seems closer then the next. Kurt looks around as he reaches to the nightstand with his free of hand, grabbing a bottle of water. As he sips he contemplates what little options he has. Each one seems just as bleak as the next.

:::

/TBC