well, hi! Okay, this is my first Glee fic, and it's based on the idea of an abused!Kurt. PLEASE NOTE THAT BURT IS NOT THE ONE ABUSING KURT. I love Burt WAY too much for that to ever happen, so it's not Burt. In this AU, Burt is NOT Kurt's father. In this, Burt is Kurt's uncle, and he loves and accepts him just as much as in the series. Kurt's abusive father is an OC. Just... read on to find out!
Basically, my best friend and beta got me hooked on fanfics, and she's an angst lover so... yeah. I love now love angst, though I never say no to a little fluff... so there will be a bit of fluff! XD And we've both read a lot of abused!Blaine ones, but never any Kurt (cause obviously Burt is awesome) so we decided to give it a shot.
Said best friend and amazing beta is blaineanderporn on tumblr, so if you have any questions or just want to check it out because she's brilliant, feel free!
Warnings: explicit description of physical violence, trigger warning for child abuse, lots of use of foul insults and name calling in later chapters, may also include smut in later chapters, LOTS OF ANGST. Pg-13 for now, but may go up later. oh, and Klaine endgame, obviously. XD
EDIT - 17.03.12 - Hello again guys, and hello to new readers too :) SO I was reading this through the other day, and my own writing started to really annoy me: because it was all in the present tense. I had a think about it and started rewriting some of it, and I've changed it to the past. There may be a few errors in there, so feel free to point them out! Enjoy! XD
It had been nearly eight years. Nearly eight years since she died, since his world had been shattered into millions of tiny, razor sharp pieces. Nearly eight years since those little broken pieces had been melded together again, forced into a mish-mashed collection of bits that used to be part of something so whole and beautiful it hurt, actually physically hurt, to remember it. But it was a twisted, messed up picture that made up his life, that had made up his life for nearly eight years.
It was all angles. Incomplete half shapes. Painful jutting edges. And reflections. Oh, there were so many reflections that Kurt didn't even know where to begin. Reflections upon reflections. Mirrored images of truths and lies, that were almost indistinguishable from each other, twisted and tangled together.
If you looked behind the mirrors, you could see it. Kurt was certain of that. Something so different, so twisted out of shape from what it used to be could not possibly be completely buried. But the mirrors were good at their job, because nobody saw it. Nobody ventured behind the mirrors except Kurt and his father. Just them. Them and the empty beer bottles.