Warning: This fic contains—or will eventually—murder, foul and offensive language, kidnapping, torture, beatings, rape, self harm, and numerous possible triggers. Please do not read if you don't think you can handle it.

I don't own Glee. Based on how terrible I am to Kurt in this fic though, that might not be a bad thing. I have, however, created a large number of original characters for this, and they, lame names and all, are mine. Any resemblance to anyone else, real or fictional, is a coincidence. Except some of the names, which are poorly comical.

Here we go:

Kurt: The Only Thing He Could

"Oh, God, and this one's a fucking faggot." The burly man gestured drunkenly at Kurt with the barrel of his gun. "You can tell just by looking at his God-forsaken, flaming ass."

Kurt wished he could just wake up. His dad squeezed his hand, but Kurt couldn't seem to work up the strength to return the gesture. All he could focus on was the cold plaster against his back and the barrel of that gun, probably still warm from shooting the brave man who had tried to disarm the gunman.

"I still can't figure out why the fuck Banks sent me to this shithole of a town in the first place," the man continued as he finally moved his gun to face away from Kurt. "Ain't enough dough in the whole town to match a decent job in, well, any fucking place not Lima, Ohio."

Desperately, Kurt wished the man would argue himself out of the bank and off to a big city full of big banks with big bucks. His phone vibrated again. It was on silent, but it buzzed against the counter where the robbers had made everyone dump their cell phones.

"Shit, Pierce," the second gunman said as he returned to the front of the bank. "Banks isn't paying us to put on a show for the rednecks out here. So chill the fuck out." With that he returned to the vault in the back of the building.

Pierce practically pouted. "You hear that, faggot?" he pointed his weapon at Kurt again, and the boy held his breath. "I'm not to put on a show. Well why don't you put one on for us, huh? That getup you're wearing practically is one." He laughed at his own joke as he pulled roughly on Kurt's arm. Burt tried to hold onto his son, but his fingers slipped away from Kurt's when the burly gunman pressed the still-warm barrel of his gun to Kurt's temple and stared pointedly at the older Hummel's hand. "So, tell me kid, what's got you so fucking gay? Is it dance? Painting? Castration?" He laughed again and shook the boy when he didn't answer. "Well?"

Kurt opened his mouth but closed it again when nothing came out. "I…" He didn't know what he was supposed to do. His mouth was so dry he didn't think he would be able to say anything even if he could think of the words. They didn't much seem to matter.

They seemed even less important with that warm barrel shoved between his lips and against his tongue.

"You best answer me when I'm asking you something, unless you don't want a mouth to be answering with anymore." He spoke with his mouth so close to Kurt's face that the countertenor could smell his tic tac breath.

The gun slid slowly from Kurt's mouth, slick and shiny with spit he hadn't been able to find before. "I sing," he offered, hoping it was… gay enough for Pierce.

He laughed, and Kurt wanted to slap himself in the face for feeling relieved. "Well, little fag, sing for us."

Kurt had never been at a loss for what to sing before. He gaped at the madman who kept calling him a faggot, thinking that Defying Gravity hardly seemed appropriate for the situation. He almost laughed when his half-crazed terror crashed headfirst into a perfectly calm thought on song choice. He felt like there shouldn't have been room in his head for both.

When the bank robber took a step toward the still-silent boy, he hastily backed away and opened his mouth. He didn't know what he was going to sing until he'd started, and then he wasn't sure if he should laugh, keep singing, or beg to take it back.

Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect
I'm afraid

Instead of shooting Kurt, Pierce laughed. "Oh, God, kid, you are so fucking gay!" He actually slapped his thigh with his gun. "My mother loved that song right up to the day I killed her dead." He bent over with laughter, and then Burt was there.

Kurt's dad tackled the man, wrapping his arm around Pierce's gun arm so he couldn't raise the weapon. The boy stared open-mouthed as the two men wrestled on the floor. He took a step back and another forward.

"What am I supposed to do?" he whispered to himself only moments before Burt managed to pry Pierce's fingers loose and the gun clattered to the floor.

The two men's struggling suddenly echoed in an otherwise silent room. It had seemed quiet before, but now the shuffling, sniffling, and crying had stopped as everyone stared at the gun. Pierce's partner was in the back. Pierce was occupied. Kurt's fingers closed around the grip before he realized he had labeled the weapon as freedom.

"Shit, Wayne!" Pierce screamed but didn't get any more out before Burt slammed his fist into the robber's mouth.

The second man came out from the back glowering. "What the hell do you...?" He stopped and raised his gun, pointing it straight at Kurt who returned the favor without thinking too much about what that would mean. "Calm down, son, you don't know what you're doing there."

He didn't. Kurt's hands began shaking as it dawned on him that he was pointed a loaded gun at another human being.

"See, you don't want to shoot anyone. Just lay the gun down and we'll have a nice chat, okay?" Wayne advanced slowly toward Kurt as he spoke in a low, soothing voice.

"No!" Kurt shook his head but stopped and stared straight at Wayne once he realized that meant he couldn't aim. "D-d-don't come any… oh, shit, just stay there." Kurt's voice seemed small compared to the weight in his hands.

"I won't get any closer, kid. We can talk from here, eh?" He began inching toward the counter, which wasn't closer to Kurt but also wasn't where Wayne stood now.

"I said stay there." Kurt's voice broke, but he didn't stutter this time.

Wayne stopped and nodded. "Okay, okay. I'm reasonable. I'll stay right here. Now how about we let you go outside, and you give us the gun? That sounds reasonable too."

It actually didn't, but Kurt was too shaken to figure out why. Then he saw Wayne's gun still pointed at him and had an idea of what the problem could be. "N-no. I…" He swallowed, and it felt like his whole dried out tongue lodged in his throat. "Put your gun down."

Wayne actually smiled."Kid, of the two of us, you're the least likely to shoot, which means your threats are the least worrisome. I've tried to be nice, but you're obviously too scared shitless to talk. So just put the gun down. Now." Wayne raised his own gun, making it more obvious than ever that he was ready to shoot Kurt.

Kurt hesitated a moment, then did the only thing he could think to do. He pulled the trigger.


The song is "I Whistle a Happy Tune" from The King and I.

I'll try to get the next chapter up soonish to make up for the shortness of this one. And sorry the summary lines aren't in this part… I kinda skipped ahead and wrote those lines for a later event that acts as a major turning point.

I'll love you for it if you review!