I am what I am

[The video clicks on to reveal Kurt sitting on his bed, one leg delicately crossed over the other, rotating his ankle around. He seems to be feeling better after hurting it during the event. Since it was his dad's fear of harm coming to him, he's significantly less sore now that it's all over. Hooray!

He looks up at the screen and blinks when he sees the red recording light blinking. Clearly this wasn't actually a planned post.]

...I think it goes without saying that the last event was traumatic and unpleasant. I vote for putting it behind us and never speaking of it again. I hope you'll all second that motion.

[And he gets up, without so much as a limp, and clicks the camera off.]

( Private to Dad )

Well, now that that's over...

Rachel's gone. Again. But I haven't seen a strange doppelganger of her around anywhere, so I'm guessing she wasn't arrested a second time. Unless she's developed a new fondness for hide and seek, I suspect she's found a way out of here.

[He lets that thought hang in the air. He's trying not to sound hurt that Rachel took off without them, but it's not really working that well.]

I suppose she did have to get back to spending her entire summer preparing for sectionals, or whatever it was she was doing before she came here. And if she's really gone, that's only concrete proof that we'll be able to go home too.

We should keep the Glee club here going in her absence though. I can almost hear her crying from here at the thought of disbanding it. Membership is a little pathetic, but we'll fix that. Somehow.

...Has anyone seen Coraline?

[The post turns on, and enough time has passed between when Kurt arrived and now for his panic to turn into livid anger. His hands are firmly attached to his hips and he is not pleased.]

Excuse me, but what am I doing here? To the owner of this mansion – if you had actually requested my services instead of stealing me away like Mr. Ryerson driving around in a suspicious white van, I would have been more than happy to help you in your obvious need for redecorating. I’m not even sure how I got here, but this is unacceptable.

My father will flip when he realizes I never made it home, and I have glee club to worry about too. I can’t just disappear. What is this, The Lovely Bones? The Elizabeth Smart Story? [He realizes he’s comparing himself to 14-year-old girls, and stops himself, because he does kind of look and sound like a 14-year-old girl. He takes a deep breath and tries calm down.]

Can anyone actually hear me on this thing? Or better yet, can anyone tell me what on Earth is going on?