Disclaimer: Glee and the characters belong to Ryan Murphy.

Warning: Talk of sexual assault, language

Thanks to my amazing beta, Dusty Dreams!

A/N: Ladies and gents, thank you so much for the reviews! They make my day. This was a hard chapter to write. I would love to hear what you think.

IV. Nothingness

Burt, Carole and Finn sat silently in the room.

Burt sat closest to Kurt, his hand intertwined with his son's fingers.

Carole sat in a chair opposite the bed, while Finn leaned against the wall.

"He can't sleep in the basement anymore," Burt said softly as he stroked the back of Kurt's hand.

"He can have my room," Finn said, referring to the former guestroom that they had turned into his bedroom. "I-I can sleep in the basement."

Burt nodded. "He loved that basement."

xxoxx

Carole stood in the cafeteria with her son as they waited in line for coffee.

"Mom?"

"Yes honey."

"Is-is he going to be okay?"

She stood there silently, images of that man towering over the small boy, pushing into him viciously, moaning and grunting with pleasure, invading her mind.

"I hope so, Finn."

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Whatever he needs, Finn. We won't know what that is now. He won't know what that is now."

Finn nodded, even as he crinkled his eyebrows and frowned.

Carole grabbed his hand. "Your heart is so big, Finn. You'll know what to do."

xxoxx

"I'm going to go back to the house," Carole announced, standing by her boyfriend. "The police are gone and I want to clean up the basement before we go home."

Burt closed his eyes, knowing that she was the only one of them who had seen the basement, knowing that she wanted to protect them from seeing what she saw.

He felt cowardly for not protesting, for letting her protect him from those images, even though that meant that she had to deal with them alone.

He stood up and followed Carole out of the room, leaving Finn with Kurt.

"Carole."

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Burt…"

"For—for everything."

Carole took his hand and pressed her lips into his open palm. "I'll be back."

xxoxx

Carole stepped into the house, which felt oddly foreign to her. She wrapped her arms around herself and prepared herself for the sight that would greet her in the basement.

She didn't want to go down there but she was not about to let her own discomfort stop her from protecting Burt and Finn from seeing anything remotely reminiscent of what she had witnessed.

Sucking in some air deeply, she walked into the basement, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

The police had removed the bloody sheets and poker and even cleaned away the blood from the floor, where the intruder had lay, bleeding from where she had slammed the poker into his head.

Kurt's iPod and sketchbook were strewn on the other side of the room and her phone lay open beside the bed. Some books had fallen off of the bookshelf.

But the disarray of the room was nothing compared to the state of the bed.

It hurt her eyes to see the blood and semen stained into the mattress, shattering any illusion that the bastard had not spent a long time with her boyfriend's son before she showed up.

She quickly decided to call a 24-hour service to dispose of the mattress from the basement and replace it with one of the mattresses she had saved from their old house and stored in the garage.

Two hours later, Carole stared at the neatly arranged basement from the staircase, tears clinging to her eyelashes. The despairing emotions seemed endless but she only allowed herself to give into to them when she was not in the presence of any of the boys.

Everything was so wrong. The perfectly arranged room mocked her, like it was wearing a mask, disguising the truth that would forever linger within the four walls—the truth of lost innocence and profound cruelty.

It seemed wrong to make her son sleep in the room but at least he had not been the one to discover the intruder in the basement. He (and Burt) did not have the same memories to contend with and she clung to that small, merciful thought.

xxoxx

Kurt opened his eyes as he slowly regained consciousness.

At first, he thought he was in his basement, waking up from a restless night—it was the only explanation for the pure exhaustion he felt.

Then he noticed the differences. It was a gradual realization—the odd beeping noises, the stale smell, the stiff, uncomfortable sheets and finally (as his vision became clearer), the stark white walls that were immediately indicative of a hospital room.

Confusion set in before panic. His eyes swung around the room and only then did he see Finn sprawled out in a chair against the wall, head lolling against his chest as he slept.

His eyes wandered to the door. His father was standing just outside the open door, talking quietly with a woman in a lab coat. His jaw was set in anger and even from the distance Kurt could see his eyes blazing.

Kurt quickly racked his brain, trying to figure out what landed him in the hospital and made his dad so upset.

And then the memories rushed forward, like a rabid dog let loose from behind a metal door.

He had been alone in his basement…

He gasped as the images, sounds, smells, tastes and touches (pain) assaulted his mind.

No.

He gripped the sheets. He felt like he couldn't breath and his stomach was revolting against him.

He gasped for air, flinging himself out of the bed. He had to rip the IV from his hand but he hardly registered the pain. He ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut and locked it.

He barely made it to the toilet bowl before he started retching violently. The smell of regurgitated food just fed into his nausea. He leaned his forehead against the rim of the toilet, feeling utterly drained.

He could hear urgent knocking on the door.

"Kurt! Kurt! Please, son, let me in," came the desperate voice. His dad sounded so broken.

Kurt flushed the toilet before rolling back on his heels and sitting heavily on the floor, hissing slightly in discomfort. He was surprised that he wasn't in more physical pain—it certainly did not match up with the memories currently imploding his mind. Painkillers, he guessed absently.

In any other circumstance, he would be disgusted with himself for sitting on a hospital bathroom floor but nothing seemed to really matter anymore.

He leaned his head against the wall. He tried to concentrate on the peeling wallpaper lining the opposite wall, scowling at the disgustingly perky pattern of rabbits but it was useless.

He could see the man looming over him, demanding and aggressive, forcing him to do things that he once fantasized about doing with someone he was attracted to when he was ready (perhaps Sam?).

Not anymore.

The violence and pain and dominance, the sense of helplessness and shame and self-loathing, would forever taint him.

He stood up slowly, the sounds around him seemingly muffled as he came to a slow conclusion.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dark, angry bruises jumped out on his face and neck. They meant nothing. He meant nothing.

Nothing really mattered anymore. He allowed the numbness to take over his entire body and soul.

The door swung open and his dad stepped in, a key clutched in his hand, the doctor and Finn standing just behind him, looking in worriedly.

Kurt looked at his dad. He could feel the emotions trying to break through his newly constructed shield as he watched the pain, panic and anxiety play on his father's face.

He had promised to protect his dad from that pain.

Kurt continued to stare, watching his dad's broken expression. He had failed his father.

Burt rushed in and wrapped his arms around the small teenager, clutching him tightly as Kurt stood there limply, fighting the emotions and embracing the nothingness.

A/N: Let me know what you think! Next chapter, we'll see more Finn!