#i didn't proofread i didnt edit pure copy and paste vibes gang its good as it is

[sunnyvaler]

open.

front door wide open, chaos to be seen wherever you look. just inside the house lays the trophy case that makes kurt look like the perfect son, and next to it on the floor lays a puddle of blood. clearly the start of the path, not the end, a blood stained knife sits neatly on the table, as if placed down calmly. along the floor is a dotted trail of blood, a sight that no one ever wants to see. red droplets lead up the stairs and to the bathroom, where kurt is found sitting on the floor, sobbing as he attempts to stitch up the bloodied gash on his leg. stitching up his own wounds is hardly a good idea, but the blonde is so desperate to keep the horrors of his life a secret that he resolves to poor choices.

he looks up when the floor creaks, half expecting to see the terrifying silhouette of his mother in the doorway, asking why he hasn’t cleaned up the mess he’d made yet. but instead it’s a friend, a figure he trusts — but a figure he doesn’t want to admit the truth to. “i— i fe—fell.” spoken through gentle sobs before they get a chance to ask, though the lie is obvious. even without the knife sat downstairs (the weapon so clearly not used by kurt), this isn’t the kind of injury you get from just tripping, and there’s nothing around he could’ve fallen on to cause this kind of damage. but he sticks to the story, even if it’s a shitty one. needle is slippery in blood covered hands, but he manages to once again push it through skin, whimpering and sobbing at the pain. hands shake as he pulls tightly, though there’s still most of the gash to go and it’s obvious that if kurt keeps this up he’ll pass out. “i’m fi— ‘m fine.”