"Did you leave my dad 'cause of me?" Blaine asked. Mother was silent. "He loved you; I know he did. He kept that ratty old bathrobe years after you left. He sometimes cried about you, when he didn't think I could hear him; he probably cried about you a million times when I wasn't around. If I'd never been born, would you still be together?"
The word came out of her lips with pain, hers and his. Blaine shut his eyes, tears dropping into his lap, "Oh."
"Look at me, h-honey." Honey was never a name his Daddy would have used for him, yet the tone in her voice was unmistakable. Parent. Blaine obeyed her, looking into her glassy blue eyes. "It wasn't your fault. I talked to a psychiatrist a few years ago, he thought I was suffering from post postpartum depression after I had you. I wasn't in my head, I was always sad and angry, and sometimes I thought about hurting you. I had to leave to protect you. But I was wrong..." The tears broke free, sliding down her cheeks, "I was wrong, and I love you and I am so, so sorry..."
"Did Daddy love me?" Blaine asked, his own voice cracking just a little bit. Had anyone loved him?
Mother laughed, "Nobody ever loved a child the way your daddy loved you. He still loves you, I promise, Blaine, he does. All he wants is to hold you... why won't you let him?"
Ice filled Blaine's chest.
"I can't," He said.
"Nothing bad would happen," April said softly.
Blaine shook his head, his breathing speeding up, "I can't; he'd know, he'd know what he did to me..."
"Blaine, what the hell is going on?"
Jeremiah leaned forward, crushing Blaine with his body. Blaine felt a sharp poke in his side, and realized with another spike of terror that Jeremiah had a knife. Blaine whimpered.
"You say anything, and I'll kill you," Jeremiah whispered. Blaine trembled and started crying harder. "What's the matter? Why are you crying, you little wimp? Stop it."
But Blaine couldn't help it. Everything hurt; his wrists were screaming at him, punishment for trying to get away. The pressure of the knife point was tearing into his side, the various aches and pains where he'd been hit and scratched moaning in unison. And over it all, a sharp, twisting pain at his center, inside him, where Jeremiah had forced himself into his body.
"Alright, then, boys," Daddy's voice said. Daddy, where was Daddy? Blaine wanted him right now. "I'll let you have your fun. But I want you downstairs as soon as you're finished, you understand me? Blaine, you and I are going to have a serious talk about this."
It wasn't until Daddy's footsteps sounded in the hall that the reality crashed over Blaine. His Daddy was leaving him. Jeremiah leaned forward, "See? He's disgusted by you. He doesn't love you. Nobody loves you." And he started moving again.
The pain inside of Blaine roared back to life. Blaine started screaming; he couldn't help it, he was sure he'd die from the pain. He didn't want this. He wanted Kurt, he wanted Daddy, he wanted his Daddy right now. Why did Daddy leave him?
"Stop screaming," Jeremiah grunted, the knife pressed harder against his side. But Blaine didn't stop, Blaine didn't care anymore. He wanted to die. "Stop!" Jeremiah pressed a hand to Blaine's throat, started pressing down, choking off Blaine's air. Blaine's vision started to go fuzzy, he couldn't breath, he was dying. He didn't care. But if he didn't care, why was he still so scared? Jeremiah lifted his hand, letting Blaine breath, then shook his head, pressing back down. Jeremiah did this for what felt like hours, years... deciding to kill Blaine, then panicking at the last moment. Finally, he finished and left Blaine there, spitting on his face and whispering, "You wanted this. Don't you tell him that you didn't want this."
He dressed quickly in new clothes, using a wet wipe to scrub Blaine's insides off of him. Blaine could see his own blood everywhere but he was too dazed to think through what that must mean. He listened to Jeremiah's footsteps, listened to the low sounds of him talking to Dad. Why was Daddy just talking to him? Why wasn't he coming to save Blaine; couldn't he see what Jeremiah had done, what he'd taken from him?
"BLAINE!" There was Daddy, but he didn't sound worried. He sounded mad.
"You get down here right now, young man!" Didn't he know Blaine was tied up? Did he think Blaine could walk right now? Blaine knew he couldn't. He tried to lift himself anyway, and screamed at the stabbing the small movement gave him. He tried to breath in, but he was crying and everything was wet and it was like someone had draped a wet cloth over his face. Blaine panicked, tried to scream. He was scared; he didn't want to die, he didn't want to die...
Daddy was still yelling at him, saying words that sliced through him like a knife.
"I can't believe you would do something like this, Blaine. Do you think Jeremiah cared about you? He was just down here calling you a slut! That's the boy you chose to give your virginity to? What about Kurt? You do realize that you cheated on him just now? I don't know if he'll even stay with you once he finds out about this. I have never been so angry with you, Blaine, or so disappointed. What on earth where you thinking?"
Kurt. Kurt was going to break up with him. Blaine was beyond pain, he was beyond everything. His vision was starting to go fuzzy and everything hurt and Daddy was actually mad at him and he just wanted everything to stop. Blaine sniffled air in as best he could and screamed.
"Blaine? Blaine, what's going on? Are you hurt? Open the door. Blaine, can you hear me?" It was too late, Blaine's vision was going. He was dying, please no, Daddy, please don't let me die. I'm scared. Blaine started sobbing, and suddenly it was Daddy that sounded scared.
"Blaine! Are you okay? Please, son, just unlock the door and we'll figure this out, I promise. Blaine! Blaine!"
"Blaine? Are you okay?"
April was hovering over him, trying to keep his pale, clammy hand safe inside hers. Blaine took a deep breath, shaking the images out of his head. He tried to put new images in their place; how when he woke up, he could breath and Daddy had been there, how Daddy had saved him. How gentle his father's hands were when they grabbed his ankle and cut through the ropes tying him there, how careful they'd been when Dad lifted him and carried him out to the car. But Blaine could barely remember that version of his father, he'd been in so much pain, so confused and woozy.
Sometimes, without any provocation at all, Blaine thought that Jeremiah was the only thing he would see, the only thing he'd ever be able to see. Blaine's mother sat next to his bed, her beautiful face worn by worry. She reached out and touched him; Blaine wondered dully if she could feel how empty he was inside.
"I'm fine," He said, "I'm fine."
Another hand pressed against his back, and he jerked away, still determined, Daddy couldn't know. He relaxed when he saw Quinn behind him, her face tight as her hand made tiny circles against his skin.
"April, why don't you go sit out with Joe?" Quinn suggested, her high voice strong. April hovered, her eyes darting from Quinn to Blaine, then bolted; the attempt at motherhood had drained all her resolve. Blaine sat in silence, Quinn content to sit beside him until he wanted to speak.
"I don't want them to touch me," Blaine said.
Blaine bit his lip and turned away, "Nobody will listen to me. I don't want them to know..."
"Blaine, I know how you feel," Quinn said.
Blaine froze. It was the first time anyone had told him that. But Quinn didn't say anything, rubbing her hands back up his back. She stayed at the top portion, not drifting anywhere near the place where no one could touch him, not anymore. "What do you mean?"
"I know what it's like to be raped."
Blaine turned around to lock eyes with her, and knew from their expression that it was true. "When?"
"When I was a little younger than you are now. The year before I got pregnant, I went to a cheerleading retreat. He just crawled into my tent. He told me that I was fat and no one else would ever want me, and that if I screamed, he would kill me right then and there-" Quinn broke off, and her hands stilled.
"Did it hurt?" Blaine whispered.
"Of course it did," Quinn said. "It hurt, and I spent the next several years telling myself that I was fat and worthless. I didn't tell anyone, and I didn't want Finn to touch me for months after that. I didn't want him to know what I was inside. Blaine, I know every little thing you're feeling right now. I know what you're telling yourself, and I know that it's not true."
"It's true," Blaine said.
"... Blaine, have you even looked at all the cards everyone's been sending you?"
Blaine glanced over to the pile sitting by the window. He shook his head. Quinn stood up, walked over to the pile and picked up the nearest one.
"'Please feel better, Blaine. I don't know you very well, but I know that you're loved very much, and I hope you feel better soon.' That's Tina. 'Hey, dude, you're totally awesome at singing and I was really bummed to hear that you were in the hospital. Get better.' Puck. 'I'm really sorry about everything you've been through recently. You're a really great person, and you have a talent second only to my own. I hope you enjoy my gluten free soy milk get well cookies.' Rachel, obviously. Almost everyone in Glee club sent a card. Of course, most of these are from Kurt. 'Blaine, no matter what, I love you. You're the other half of me, and knowing that you're hurting so much kills me. I'd do anything to make you feel better.' 'I miss your smile. I wish you knew how perfect you are, and how much I love you. I love you. I love you, Blaine. I will always love you.'" Quinn paused and put the card down, "Well, you can read the rest of Kurt's letters yourself."
"Does everyone know?" Blaine asked.
"Just Kurt, me, Santana and Brittany. Santana's dad is one of your doctors, and she knew I would want to talk to you... She wanted to come see you herself, but after what happened at Surridge, she didn't want to make you uncomfortable. Brittany sent you a card, and a picture. I think Santana helped her write the card, because it's not all in text abbreviations."
Blaine took the picture, read the card, and began sobbing.
Santana says that a boy made you have sex with him, and you didn't want to. She says you're sad. It makes me sad that you're sad, because I like to see you when you're happy. I'm sorry that he made you have sex with him, because people shouldn't have to have sex with people they don't want to. Kurt is sad because you're sad, and that makes me sad, too. Kurt loves you a lot. He thinks you're really beautiful, just like Santana thinks I'm beautiful. I used to think you and Kurt were unicorns like Santana and me, but after I saw you with Kurt I realized that Kurt was a prince and you were a princess. But now Kurt's princess is locked herself in her tower, and Kurt is really sad without you. You should let Kurt save you from your tower. It would make him happy and then you would be happy.'
Blaine pulled out the picture, a crayon drawing of a blonde unicorn and a dark haired unicorn with Brittany and Santana's faces pasted onto them. Blaine and Kurt were riding on their backs, Blaine in a carefully drawn rainbow dress. What looked like a pile of rocks lay behind them with the caption 'Tower'.
Quinn's eyes widened, "I'm really sorry, Blaine. Brittany didn't mean to offend you, she wasn't trying to call you any names, she's just-" But Blaine shook his head. He sobbed out two more times.
"I want my Daddy and Kurt. Right now."