Page 84 of Hurt

His hand wrapped around Kurt’s throat and squeezed. Gasping and kicking, he tried to fight against the choking sensation, but he couldn’t make his limbs work. His boots thumped against the floor uselessly. Blood and beer mixed in his mouth, and he could feel glass shards in his skin. Fighting to stay awake, he scrabbled at Ezra’s hand.

“Apparently, you need more supervision. I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago.” He released his hand, and Kurt fell, breathing against the wooden floor and trying not to wretch.

“Pets need to be leashed. It’s time to come home, little whore.” He ran a finger along Kurt’s bruised neck. “I think you’ll look cute chained to my bed.”

Ezra’s phone rang, and he cursed, leaving Kurt gasping on the floor while he answered it. Through his strained breaths, he couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Ezra swore when he hung the phone up.

“I only have a few minutes tonight, but I’ll be back tomorrow for you. See how nice your owner is? Even after you’ve been so bad.” He placed his foot on Kurt’s neck and cut off his air again. “I’m going to give you time to say your goodbyes.”

Pressing down, he waited until Kurt was almost limp before he removed his foot. Laying it on Kurt’s cheek, he pressed his face into the broken glass on the floor.

“You remember what will happen if you try to run away? Just think, this could be your sister right now. Or your precious nephew. He’s a little too sweet for my tastes, but I bet he looks cute crying.”

Kurt couldn’t answer. The glass dug into his cheek, and his vision tunneled out as he drifted off into unconsciousness.

That little flame of hope was doused, and as Kurt felt it die, he remembered why he didn’t like to hope.

Because losing it hurt so much more than the glass cutting into his skin.

16

LAYING IN THE SILENCE, WAITING FOR THE SIRENS

Willow shivered as she came awake. Without opening her eyes, she wriggled toward Kurt’s side of the mattress. Her brother was likely to smack her. He really hated to be touched, but it was cold, and she needed his broad back to warm her.

Rolling around, she found the opposite side of the mattress to be just as cold as hers. Blearily, she opened her eyes and reached out to find that she was the only one on the bed. Sitting up, she draped the quilt around her shoulders and looked around the apartment. The small night light they kept in the kitchen illuminated Noah curled up on the bean bag like a cat. He was so tightly coiled it was impossible to see where his head began and legs ended.

With the quilt around her shoulders, she shuffled to the door and stepped out onto the metal staircase. The western half of the sky was still dark, but there was a thin line of light on the eastern horizon. Light and dark blurred together as the sun chased the chill away from the desert night.

There was no sign of Kurt. He couldn’t be down in the bar already. On principle, bars were not open at dawn. Nights were not cold enough to justify sleeping downstairs yet, and he hadn’t taken a pillow or blanket down with him. Barefoot, Willow descended the stairs and gently picked her way across the gravel parking lot. She winced as the sharp rocks dug into her feet and hopped stepped her way to the dingy welcome mat.

She was a little surprised to find the bar door open. The lock was mostly useless, but usually, the deadbolt was thrown to at least give the impression of security. Dawn light spilled through the open doorway and illuminated a swath of bar. Squinting until her eyes adjusted, she took two steps in until something sharp dug into her foot.

“Ow!” She hopped off the foot to see a sliver of dark brown glass stuck in the pad of her foot. Whimpering as she pulled it out, she looked down to see a minefield of broken glass. Skipping over to a safe spot on the floor, she caught sight of a shoe.

“Kurt!” The quilt dropping from her shoulders, she ignored the glass and ran to his side.

Her brother was collapsed on the floor under one of the tables. Curled around the legs, he looked like a fixture of the table except for one obtrusive limb sticking out. Willow grabbed his shoulder, half expecting a bottle of alcohol to be propped up beside him. Normally Kurt managed to get back to the apartment before he passed out, but last night might have been an exception.

Kurt rolled over lifelessly—body completely limp. As the light from the door hit his face, Willow recoiled in horror. Blood covered his face. His purple hair was rigid with it, stuck to his face and matted in clumps.

Willow couldn’t help but remember when she had found Kurt in a similar position all those years ago. Covered in blood and completely lifeless, arms outstretched, ready to die. The violin case she had been holding had fallen to the tile floor, splattering blood everywhere. She had slipped in her haste to get to her brother, fingers wrapping around the blood pumping from his wrists.

This time was different, but it felt the same. The tang of coppery blood reached her nose, mixed with beer from the broken bottle.

She shook Kurt and desperately tried to get him to open his eyes. It took her a moment to realize she was screaming for help—she couldn’t hear it over the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

Kurt’s face looked pale under the blood. She could see glass embedded into his right cheek, but all the blood couldn’t have come from that. Leaning in, she saw a large laceration above his eyebrow hidden in his hairline.

Hands fluttering over his body Willow checked for more injuries. His clothes were rumpled, pants and belt open.

Willow felt her breath catch. Why would his pants be…no. She couldn’t think about that right now. She needed to focus.

“Jesus Christ, why are you yell—ow, motherfucker! Why is there glass here?” Noah walked in, rubbing his eyes. Pajama pants dragging over his bare feet, he had fallen into the same trap Willow had.

“Go get Molly!” Willow cried out.

Noah paused and only then seemed to see why his aunt was kneeling on the ground. “Kurt? What happened?”