I Don't Want To Feel

A/N: This is a one shot, I doubt that I will be adding any more parts to it.

Wretchedness. Heartbreak. Sorrow. Misery. Heartache. Unhappiness. Grief. These were the feelings that plunged into their souls every moment, of every single day. It was a feeling that cut like a knife, they were reminded everyday. People sent emails, texts, made phone calls to them. Expressing their sorrows for the Hummel-Andersons.

Elizabeth Grace Hummel-Anderson passed away on January 7th, 2016. They only had her for eight months. She was eight months old, not even a year. She didn't even get a year on the goddamned planet, we call Earth.

Kurt and Blaine dealt with their grief very differently, as everyone does. Blaine was enraged that his daughter had been ripped away from his grasps. Kurt suffered from Major Depressive Disorder, he didn't want to feel anymore.

Blaine boxed every day, he didn't know exactly who he was angry at. Elizabeth hadn't been murdered, but sick. She had gotten very sick, with an infection. Elizabeth was diagnosed with pneumonia. Blaine assumed that he was angry at the universe. Yes, that's what it was. He was angry at the universe, for taking away his beautiful baby girl.

Blaine had washed the gel out of his hair and he looked at Kurt through the mirror, his once joy filled husband was gone. Blaine turned around and pulled Kurt into his arms. Blaine kissed Kurts head and whispered,

"It's going to be okay, we're going to be okay."

Kurt sobbed and Blaines own tears started streaming down his cheeks. They stood there in the vanity, sobbing and feeling these horrible feelings.

Kurt body eventually went limp, Blaine carried him to their big bed. He tucked Kurt in, and went on his way to the gym.

On Blaines way there he passed a church, a Catholic Church. Blaine sighed and went inside, he felt as if something was pulling him towards the church. An unseen force, something he could not explain.

Blaine sat in the front pew and looked at the stained glass, he did admit, the strained glass was beautiful.

A priest came and sat next to him, "You seem troubled."

The priest was an older man, he had gray short hair, thin lips, skin that was wrinkling.

"My daughter died four months ago," Blaine bluntly said.

The priest looked down at the carpeted floor, and Blaine wondered how many people had told him that their child had passed.

"I am very sorry for your loss young man," The priest said, Blaine nodded.

"I don't believe in God, I don't even know why I'm here," Blaine ran his fingers through his curly hair.

"Not everyone does believe in God," The priest said very soft spoken.

"I miss her," Blaine started to cry.

"What was her name?"

"Elizabeth," Blaine looked at the priest. "She was beautiful."

"How old was she?"

"Eight months old."

"I'm very sorry," The priest said once again.

"I'm worried about my husband," Blaine said, "He isn't himself anymore. He's so, so drained. I haven't seen him smile, since before Elizabeth got sick."

The Father nodded, "I understand. I don't understand the pain of losing a child, but I do understand losing someone. My brother, Alex, he committed suicide when he was a teenager."