The Untitled Wound
Spoilers: Set During Season 1, but no spoilers.
Summary: Kurt does everything he can do to survive the final moments of a shooting at McKinley.
The Untitled Wound
They say that when one is to die, that they see their lives flash before their eyes. You'd see your loved ones, those fond memories that you could easily remember in life, or maybe the occasional kinky sex that you and your partner had had and it makes you grin like an idiot. This all works in theory of course. Since nobody actually comes back from those few minutes that you are dead and can remember it all to a clear detail, it's completely unconfirmed. Yet somehow, it remains a popular theory with personal views all the way to pop culture. However, if seeing ones life flash before their eyes isn't what happens when on the brink of death, then what does happen? Nothing? Aliens? Your soul floats around and returns to you, giving you a new sense of purpose to live life to the best that you can? What happens when you die?
The lights are bright enough to where it makes him want to open his eyes, but he still has enough morphine in his system to be content enough without doing so. Just to bask in any source of light is appreciated as well, even though he can tell that it's artificial. At least the artificial lights were better funded than the crappy ones at the school. Those flickering ones didn't make his day at that school any better. Even though he hated hospitals, he'd rather have these at this point in this life.
He does a mental check of his body. It's not like he can feel half of it anyways, thank you morphine, but he can feel his toes and fingers. He wants to curl them, or even twitch them, but he doesn't want to cause any interest in whoever may be around. What kind of person would he be to cause false alarm and false hope to whoever he has in the room with him? It's all good though because he can feel the circulation in his system.
His thoughts return to his recent trauma and the experience that he received from it. He will most likely never feel the same again. He saw his first death; his first time seeing someone shot, the first loss of a friend. Too many firsts that he or anyone that he knows should never have had to experience. To be honest, he's afraid of waking up and finding who's alive and who's not. That's the worst part. He's seen so many people dead that at this point, he'd rather just everyone be dead so he wouldn't have to see the aftermath. He's already aware that his body must look like a mess, particularly his stomach with what feels like a massive hole in it. None of the survivors will look pretty after all of this, well except for his savior. He didn't see any problems with them, but he only used those few seconds he had to look into those captivating eyes. They looked so kind, so full of non-regretful pain at all of the actions that they must have pulled that day.
Day? Kurt twitches on the inside as he tries to think of the day that had happened . . . a Thursday it was. It was a Thursday and today is . . . well he can't think of today's date to save his life. Mainly because he doesn't know how long he's been under the medicine's usage, but also because the bright light in his eyes give him no indication to what it looks like outside.
Kurt calms himself down and just listens for a moment . . . to just listen. He can hear his own heartbeat slowly pulsing in the heart monitor. The individual beeps are loud enough to show the steady rhythm of his breathing. He can also hear the sound of someone breathing, apart from his own that is. This one is much deeper and has a tremble through it. It seems to belong to someone of an older age, of someone with stress. Kurt knows that it's his dad. His dad is the only one that he knows personally other than his friends. His ears move on and he can hear the slight stir of something moving, but he's not able to make out what it is. It could be anything, but Kurt gives up on that.
Now that he knows that his father or at least he thinks and that it's most likely his father, he tries some muscle movement. He can already feel some of his body as well as his chest slowly moving up and down to breathe. He focuses on his hands and is relieved when he feels one of his fingers twitch and brush against the sheet that covers his body. He feels the cool sheet touch his finger again as he moves a few more. The sounds of the small movement on the bed reach his ears.
Kurt's pretty sure that he could wake up now and be perfectly fine. His body is pretty healthy, apart from a while somewhere in his stomach, but he feels fine. His motor skills and five senses are working.
Kurt licks the roof of his mouth and taste's an overwhelming amount of bad breath.
So yes, all five of his senses are working. He's slowly able to feel more of his body as it gets used to him wanting to use it after lack of use for however long that he had been in the bed. He moves his eyes around and can feel them moving under his heavy eyelids. They're probably caked with rheum that had collected there while he slept and had his eyes shut.
He stretches his eye lids and he can practically hear the loud cracks of the rheum breaking apart. It takes him a few seconds before he can blink a few times before seeing the bright light above surrounded by the Styrofoam ceiling tiles of the hospital room. He can feel the rheum weighing down on his eyelids, but he ignores them to let his eyes get used to the light without the protection of his eyelids. He can feel the soreness of his eyes from lack of use as he slowly rolls his eye to the corner of his eye.
His dad is slumped in the old and probably uncomfortable cushioned chair that the hospitals usually provide. The man's eyes look so dark around his eyes, so sleep deprived. Kurt can even see a few tear streaks down the mans face now that his eyes are getting more adjusted to finally being open. His flannel shit is wrinkled and stained in some areas, probably from not changing clothes after recent stressful events. His arm is laid along the armrest of the chair in Kurt's general direction, his fingers relaxed from a hold position. Kurt looks near the old mans hand and sees that it's near his own. He lets his finger twitch out and graze his dads' finger. He sees the finger twitch and his dad shift in his chair, but nothing more.
Kurt moves his eyes around and he spots the clock on the wall. It's almost two in the afternoon. The round clock on the wall is ticking far too slowly for Kurt's taste. He's tired of things going slow. Things need to go fast again so he doesn't have much time to think . . . to remember. He looks away from the clock when the noise starts to create a pounding sensation in his ear. Anything that remotely sounds like a heartbeat might be too much for him for a bit, at least he figures so. There's nothing more gut-wrenching than hearing your own heartbeat for hours on end in between gun shots and bloody bodies.
Kurt looks back to his dad and slowly opens his mouth to speak. He stops when he feels the dryness of his throat. He quickly swallows and licks the inside of his mouth before trying again. All that comes out is a small croak. He lets out a shaky breath before slowly lifting his body and shifting it over on the bed a few inches. He feels a slight sting of pain, but there's enough morphine in his system from feeling any real pain.
Now his hand is able to take hold of his fathers. He gives the warm and rough hand a tight squeeze. His dad seems to be unsure if the squeeze came from a dream or reality. Kurt smiles and squeezes the hand again. This makes Burt slowly open his eyes. He goes to bring his hand back to himself, but stops when he sees a wide awake Kurt holding his hand. Kurt sees so many emotions cross his father's face and eyes before the man is up.
Kurt suddenly has a crying father on him. Burt was always one for hiding his emotions, but this whole thing was enough to break him. Kurt brings his arms up and wraps them around his dad as the man continues to mutter 'thank god' and 'I love you' into Kurt's ear.
Kurt's eyes stay close to the floor as he limps through the hallway. He knows people are looking at him; he is one of the few survivors of the massacre after all. That's what they're calling it. It's the Lima High Massacre. Blood War would be a better title in Kurt's opinion, but he's not the media. Out of all of the people that were shot in the school, only about two percent with gunshot wounds had survived. That ended up only being six or seven people, not even that Kurt thinks. But otherwise, at least forty percent of the school had died. The number was so extreme that many were still in shock and denial about it. Forty percent. Most of the students had been on the other side of the school and had got out. It turns out that there had been nine shooters that had entered the school that day. Nine. They split up into three groups and had went through three of the five doorways to the school.
The news had only revealed so much, but Kurt had pleaded with his father to find out. He doesn't know how, and he honestly doesn't want to know, but his father had managed
The gym had been shot up first. No one made it out of that class. The cafeteria and the main hallways where Kurt was were hit at the same time. Most were shot at the beginning. Others were shot through locked doors or the small windows. The bathrooms weren't even a safe place once the locks were shot off and the small rooms were taken over.
Forty. Seriously forty.
Kurt can't get the number out of his head. That's almost half of the school that had suffered. Hopefully the school doesn't open back up anytime soon. No one needs to be back in that place. Burt had offered to transfer Kurt in a few weeks when things seemed slightly better for him, but Kurt just doesn't know yet. If the school were to open back up, he'd like to think that he could brave the past and show up. Mainly he wants to try and go back to the normal. He wants to be able to see who all survived. He also doesn't want to be separated from the person that saved him. Whether it be a co-dependency thing, or just that Kurt's sure he'll feel safe again, he just wants to be there. There, people won't look at him differently. Everyone that will be back at McKinley are the survivors and will share an understanding of the same even happening to all of them as a whole over going to another school where he will be inflicted with pity and sympathy. That's not what he wants. He wants to be on the same playing field as everyone else.
The only difference now is that they'll know not to push people around, or to not mistake people and judge them solely on their looks. They know that any students that they walk pass, any student that they regard as nothing in their allotted time for another individual, that that student can be on of nine that can come into the school and shoot up the place. Nine students had been rejected and tossed aside enough to feel this way and now everyone, of those that are still moving around and breathing, knows that any one person can reach their boiling point. It's just sad that they had to reach theirs and have this kind of reaction.
Kurt relaxes against the wall and tries to catch his breath. Ever since the bullet had protruded his soft skin and then had been dug up and out by doctors, he had been having a hard time breathing. He knows that the doctors are watching, amongst the other recovering survivors as well, to see if he was truly fit to leave. Today was his day to leave and he couldn't be happier. While he loved being in a hallway that was bright and clean as opposed to the dim and bloody, he wanted out of their. He wanted to feel the warmth and comfort that his own provided. He wanted that safety that the school never provided before, but most likely will provide now that safety laws and extra security measures will be put into place.
The only downside about going home is that he'll truly be alone, and he doesn't want that. Sure he'll have his dad, but that's only it. His dad had just started dating Carole Hudson, but the woman has just lost her son and has probably went into isolation like many of the mourning parents of the town. Plus with only one date between the single parents, the bond wasn't strong enough for his dad to be the shoulder that she would go to. So again, he'd be truly alone. Sure his dad would probably hover over him, but that doesn't help when it comes to actual companionship. All of his friends are dead, at least apart from one person that he never really associated with, but his savior was still there. It's highly doubtful that he'll see his savior anytime before he goes back to school, but it's the only hope he has. At least apart from joining some online community for one of his favorite TV shows. He has the list actually narrowed down to joining the Doctor Who fandom or the Merlin one, but he's holding those ideas for last since he doesn't want to spend his time online.
Kurt lets his back rest on the wall as he brings his hand slowly up to touch his stomach. Underneath his light jacket, shirt, and the series of bandages that are wrapped tight and snug around his body, he can feel a slight twinge of main in his body. It's nowhere near as bad as before, but that's what happens when he spends five days in a hospital, one out of conscious and four on a semi-regular sleep pattern. He's actually happy to be wearing a normal shirt for once, even if it's a bit too tight for his current condition. He's going to have to buy a few loose shirts since he has none anywhere in his house, unless he wants to wear his dads clothing. He doesn't. But these clothes work much better than a hospital gown to where he can feel a breeze touching some personal places when ever he stands up or moves around. For once, his skinny jeans don't feel too tight when he moves, which is probably due to the lack of food and mainly liquid diet on top of blood loss that he had experienced recently. It could also be because he's not moving as brisk as he usually would. His movements are much more slow and hesitant. He can't help it anymore than the sky can't help look blue on a regular basis.
He drops his hand from his body and lets out a shaky breath as he leans away from the wall and slowly makes his way down the hallway. His dad had reluctantly let him take one last walk around the hospital before they left. Kurt wanted to have some quiet time around some bit in the open before he becomes isolated in the house until McKinley reopens, or he convinces his dad that he's healthy and stable enough to drive somewhere.
His eyes dart around as he moves down the hallway. He has yet to see any faces that he would want to see. The few people that he had seen were just blurred faces that he had once seen in the crowd at school. A few of them smiled at him, but never stopped. He had actually woke up one day to find his dad sleeping. So he decided to take a trip down and had found some familiar parental faces that were going to the morgue, or making arrangements at the small funeral parlor that was attached to the hospital. He couldn't see himself going to talk to them, not when he had survived and had watched their kids being gunned down. How would they react? What would they do? Either they'd ask him what he knew, or would hate him. He didn't want to find out.
He looks up when he sees something move in his peripheral vision. He looks over to see his normal nurse waving at him from behind the nurses' station. He had gotten Nurse Jackie. When he first heard her name, he started laughing until he was whimpering in pain. She told him that he wasn't the first to reference her to the actual show, but to take it easy. She had told him to friend her on Facebook whenever he got out and she'd be ready to hear all of the Nurse Jackie jokes that he had to give her. She was the only one that got him to actively laugh during his week in the hospital, much to the dismay of his father and his bad fishing jokes. Kurt waves back to the woman and gives her one of his few genuine smiles before continuing down the hallway.
Kurt hesitates for a second before sliding his hand into his pocket. After going almost a week without his phone, his dad had returned it. He didn't want Kurt to see old pictures or names and reminisce. It was also a way to keep him from the violence of what had happened, but he had learned enough from the TV when his dad was gone or asleep and the nurses who took pity on him thanks to his ability to pout really well in combination with his injuries.
He pulls out his phone and turns it on. He had yet to look at all of the missed messages and calls that he had received that day and the many since. His dad had told him about taking the numbers down so he could call the parents back of his many friends. Burt wanted to delete all of the messages off to save Kurt from having to look at it, but Kurt wanted those messages. He wasn't going to look at them anytime soon, but he was going to put them on his computer to look at them in the future whenever he felt better enough to do so without going into a panic attack of some sort.
Kurt ignores the many messages on his phone before opening his contacts. He keeps his eyes to the side so he knows which letter of the alphabet that he's on while scrolling so he doesn't have to see the names, but that doesn't stop him from stopping on the 'm' section of the letters. That one's going to be hard. Mer- . . . she is going to be on his conscience for a while. Kurt lets out a shaky breath as he scrolls a bit further.
He's pretty sure that he might be the only one of his friends to classify his savior under something other than his nickname. It's like when someone gets called their name so much that it becomes the norm for them, well Kurt didn't like that. He likes real names. It gives him a legit connection to the people that he communicates with; at least that's what he hopes it does.
He stops on the name and lets his finger hover above it. As far as he knows, and when he's asked about, his savior is not in the hospital, or at least this one. So either his savior is another hospital, which is unlikely since he's seen many an empty room here, or his savior left the school safe and had been sent home. Kurt doesn't remember seeing injuries on the body, but he could have forgotten by now. His savior was only put on that stretcher to be checked out just in case, or the injuries were severe enough that would require his savior to be send off to one of the bigger hospitals an hour or so away. It was impossible to tell.
Kurt decides to take the chance and lets his finger drop down on his touch-screen. The 'green call' button blinks quickly before his screen suddenly has the badly taken picture of his savior, which he had taken when his savior wasn't looking just so he had a picture, and the name is in white bold underneath. It only takes him a second to hesitate before his finger moves down to click the red 'end call' button.
He lets out a shaky breath. He never thought he was a coward when it finally came to surviving, but he's a coward now. He can't stand having to talk to the person that saved him. He just can't. What would he say? What would be said to him? What if it turns out that his savior died and he reaches his saviors grieving mother or father? He doesn't want to impose like that.
He doesn't get to think much more on that before his phone vibrates in his hand and the 'Marimba' ring-tone of his iPhone goes off. Above the slider option to unlock his phone, he sees the same picture and name flash up that had been on their only moments earlier. His savior is calling him back. Is this a good thing? Should I ignore them? But I owe them. Kurt's caught up in his own inner thoughts, but he knows what he has to do. He can't go any further without thanking his savior at the very least.
Kurt moves again so he can rest his shoulder blades against the wall first before resting his entire back. He moves his phone to his left hand before he hits the 'call' button with his thumb. He can see the timer start on his phone for how long that the calls been going on. 5 . . . 6 . . . 7 . . . He brings the phone to his ear. He's met with the sound of someone breathing. He can easily identify it now, even though he wouldn't have been able to before. This is the first time that he's ever used his saviors' number.
"Kurt." The rough voice comes through the phone, but it barely makes its way through Kurt's pounding head. He's just so overwhelmed at hearing that voice after hearing his savior in pain after pushing Kurt away. This voice sounds pained, but it's not from any wounds. "Kurt, is this you? Please tell me it's not you, Mr. Hummel. I . . . I don't think that I could handle it if K-K-Kurt di-"
"It's me." Kurt's soft voice breaks his saviors' voice off. He knows he should have answered the voice, or at least cut it off already, but it took him a bit to gather his thoughts. He didn't realize that he was causing such panic for his savior. "I . . . sorry for not answering before. I'm just not sure what I can say to you."
He can hear the agreeing breath through the phone. "Well . . . are you . . . are you okay? When are you leaving the hospital?"
"T-today actually." Kurt quickly nods to himself as his dialogue starts speeding up to the verge of it being a loud rant in the quiet hospital hallway. "I'm so sorry. I-I've been wanting to call you for this past week to find out what happened to you, but then my dad just gave me my phone back today and I don't know your number by heart to begin with, but that will change now. I'm going to memorize it. I promise you that. And then I didn't want to call in case something bad happened to you and I had to talk to your mom or dad and then they'd yell at me for surviving and you not and I didn't want to be a nagging reminder after losing you and-"
"Kurt." Kurt takes the cut-off from his rant as a chance to take a breath after saying so much in two short breaths. Run-on sentences may look bad when written, but they're worse when said aloud when the speaker is distressed and they're using run-ons. "You need to breathe. Trust me; I've been just like you, well apart from being in the hospital. I've been staring at my phone for days when my ma or sister weren't fussing over me. As soon as you called, I had to call you back. Otherwise I don't know when I would have called." The lips to the voice let out a shaky breath. "Kurt . . . I haven't seen or heard from anybody for the past week now. No one is answering my calls. You're the first person that I've heard from since everything. The news and the papers are keeping all of the names locked up for now. I'm freaking out because I don't know who l-lived . . . or died."
Kurt lets out a shaky breath before nodding to himself. "Can . . . I don't think I can see it without breaking down. Can we not do this now?"
"Kur- . . . Can I come over today? After you get settled down of course. I just . . . I need to see a familiar face that I know and like. I need it, or else I'm gonna go crazy. I can't just sit here." Kurt closes his eyes and feels burning tears behind his eyes as he hears the frustrated growl. "I . . . I know you want to get home, and be with your family, but I need something. You were part of my family at school and even if I've never showed it, I do care about you, Kurt."
"I know." Kurt's voice is soft as he slowly opens his eyes. "And I you. Just let me talk to my dad first. I'll text you the time when I can. Just . . . stay calm for now. I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Thank you, Kurt. Just thank you. So much." Kurt smiles at the relief in the voice. "Is there anything that I need to bring?"
Kurt cracks a smile. "Just bring yourself and anything you need to stay calm."
"Great. This is great. Thank you, Kurt." He can hear the smile in his saviors' voice. He loves hearing the happiness in the voice. It was something that he had hardly ever heard unless his savior was with certain people, but it sounds great being directed towards him after their past together.
They both seem to come to a mutual decision after the comfortable silence to end it there. They both had a long night in front of them. Kurt's the first one to say a soft "goodbye" with his savior only mentioning it within a milli-second of him. Kurt smiles as his thumb slides down and hits the red 'end call' button, but this time he's fine with cutting off the call.
Kurt brings his phone to his mouth to cover his smile, to cover the first time that he might make it through this. All he needs is his savior at his side and it will all end well. Kurt almost chuckles as he brings his hand down so he can slide his phone into his jeans. He closes his eye, takes in a deep breath and lets his shoulders rise up with it before he lets out and relaxes against the wall. He only stays against the wall for a few more seconds before leaning away from it. He has a bit of stuff to do before he meets his savior for the first time since everything. For once in his life, he's looking forward to seeing Noah Puckerman.
So another chapter down. This originally was going to end with this chapter, but I have a bit of an idea to make it go at least a few chapters longer. I hope you enjoyed. :)