by K J Bell
When I returned, Logan was back with a large paper bag that said Rino’s Place on the front. Not recognizing the name of the restaurant. I squinted to see if there was any more writing on the bag that might indicate where we were. There was nothing more than small letters boosting authentic Italian cuisine.
Logan laid out a blanket and signaled for me to sit. The aroma from the food filled the air and smelled amazing. I felt my mouth watering as Logan handed me a foil pan full of ravioli and a bottle of Perrier. I had never been a fan of sparkling water, but as the moisture coated my throat, I considered it to be the best thing I had ever drunk. He handed me some utensils wrapped in plastic, and I ripped them open hastily. I dug right into the ravioli, sauce escaping the sides of my mouth as I inhaled the food, and I wiped it quickly with a napkin. I noticed Logan was watching me with an amused smile on his face.
“What?” I asked him, before shoving another bite of pasta into my mouth.
“Nothing,” he responded shyly, turning his head.
“Come on, tell me. I think we’re past embarrassment here, Logan,” I ribbed, hoping it wouldn’t alarm him.
“I’ve just never seen a girl eat like you before,” he admitted, looking down at his hands while he spoke. His body language suggesting he was worried he might have offended me.
Your plan is totally working. You need to keep the conversation going, Claire.
I wanted to scream at him, something to the effect of how starving I was, and what a jerk he was. But I stuck to my plan, placing my hand on my chest in mock offense. Using my best southern bell drawl I asked, “Why, whatever do you mean?”
Logan looked up, letting out a laugh. “Well,” he started. “It’s just that most girls I know eat slowly, worried they might spill a tiny bit. I like the fact you’re not worried about what anyone thinks of you.”
It’s you, Logan. I’m not worried what you think about me.
“Oh. Well, a girl’s gotta eat, right?” I said smiling, keeping the mood light and playful while I continued shoveling the pillowed pasta into my mouth.
I decided it was time to shift the conversation to Logan.
“So, since we’re spending all this time together, tell me about yourself.” I suggested, taking another large swallow of water, letting it slowly slide down my throat.
Logan’s jaw twitched, his brows wrinkled with apprehension.
“Relax, Logan. I’m just trying to get to know you a little,” I assured him, taking another drink of water, continuing to relish the wetness in my mouth.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, hesitantly.
I paused briefly, trying to think of something.
“Do you have any siblings?” I questioned making an effort to look as though anything about him actually interested me.
“No,” he snapped, hunching his shoulders.
“Oh,” I said gently, noting his discomfort. I decided to play on it. “It sucks not having any siblings, huh?”
He relaxed his shoulders and hung his head in thought. I was right. Something was wrong in Logan’s house.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” I consoled him, continuing my plan.
“It’s fine,” he said, pulling a metal flask from the cargo pocket on his shorts. He turned the lid taking a large sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I set my food on the blanket and slid close to him, placing my hands on his knees.
Keep him calm, Claire.
“Logan, you don’t need that,” I said firmly. He eyed me with his dark stare. I didn’t move away, opting instead to put my mouth next to his ear and speak sweetly. “I’m not going to run. I just want to get to know you, Logan.”
I felt his tension releasing, fully aware this could go either way. He inhaled deeply, twisting the lid back on the flask. He flung it across the room and it hit the wall forcefully. His eyes filled with tears. He dropped his head in his hands sobbing inconsolably. Careful not to disturb him – hoping the guilt coursing through him stirred his conscience, I waited for him to speak. He finally lifted his head and I saw a glint of remorse in his eyes.
“Claire, I hoped you’d stay. I need you so much.”
What?
Logan’s words were alarming, sending up giant red flags. His words also pierced my heart. Logan was severely damaged. Something happened in his life to break him. It made me really sad knowing he was mistreated. It made me even sadder knowing my move to Northfield had made things worse for him. Kace used him while he was at his weakest, adhering to him, and forcing his demons to the surface – turning him into someone to loathe. I knew he was not going to let me go. Any attempt would bring out the vile beast that lay inside of him. I needed to focus my attention on keeping this gentler Logan around. That would be my best chance to get free, hopefully freeing him in the process.
Logan peered up at me, his eyes gentle. They looked bright for the first time since I met him. They were an amber shade of brown reminding me of the rocks in Jasper, making me smile. He smiled back mirthfully.
We continued eating in silence. He started to speak several times, stopping himself before he did, silently showing me he had conflicting feelings about keeping me there.
I thought back to the conversation I had with Brent about apparitions. When one is returned to its human form, the spirit hangs on for a while. Thinking maybe it was the same when an Adherent left its Anchor, hope poured into me. The spirit Logan was entertaining was fading. I felt it. Trusting my instincts as The Locket, I knew with certainty, that’s why he was softening. I knew I just had to keep him calm until the Adherent faded completely.
Logan started cleaning up the trash from the blanket, placing it back in the paper bag. “Are you okay? Do you want any more water?” he asked.
I wiped my mouth with my napkin one last time before tossing it into the bag. “Yes, please,” I answered.
Logan gave me another bottle and carried the bag out of the room. When he returned, he was carrying his lap top. Putting it down on the blanket, he addressed me. “I have some movies on here if you want to watch one.”
Guh! No, I don’t want to watch a movie with you. I want to get the hell out of here.
Keep him calm, Claire.
“Sure, what do you have?” I inquired, exhaling slowly to stay calm.
After browsing through dozens of titles, we decided on The Princess Bride, one of my all-time favorites. Logan said it was one of his favorites too.
He laughed as he quoted Vizzini. “Inconceivable,” he belted, laughing again. “Classic,” he said, looking like a high school kid hanging out with a friend.
Seeing him that way warmed my heart, and I wanted to shout at him, forcing him to see what he was doing was wrong. Deciding not to, I continued with plan “appease Logan”. I quoted one of my favorite lines from the film. “Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die,” I howled, laughing at my ridiculous Spanish accent. Logan laughed with me. “Now, that’s a classic.”
We were both chuckling as we said different lines from the film and at the same time we shouted, “As… you… wish.”
Logan looked at me nervously. “That’s one of the best movie lines ever. Can you imagine loving someone so much that you’d do anything they wished?”
My smile faded just a little. I didn’t have to imagine it. I did love someone that much and I missed him.
“No,” I mumbled, quickly returning the smile to my face hoping that Logan hadn’t noticed its brief departure. If he did, it didn’t affect his mood. He started the movie and sat down next to me. I put my head on his shoulder knowing it would affect him, but also because my body ached with fever, sick from missing Brent, and I wanted to be close to someone.
The movie played in the background of our chatter. Logan had started the conversation talking about this being his mom’s favorite movie. He never met someone our age that had seen it – let alone knew it so well. I told him it was one of my dad’s favorites also, and how w
e used to watch it together on VHS.
“You were pretty close to your Dad?” Logan stated as a question, drawing his brows together.
This is it, girl. Keep him talking.
“Yes, I was close to him. He was a character,” I offered, fighting off tears I knew would come if I said too much about my father.
“It must have really shocked you to learn about Reese,” he lamented, regarding me apologetically.
His mention of the subject startled me.
“Yes, it did, but everyone makes mistakes,” I admitted, my answer hopefully causing him to think about his own actions, rather than those of my father.
“I’m not very close to my dad. He’s kind of an asshole,” he claimed angrily. I noticed the vein in his neck popping out.
“I’m sorry, that’s awful, Logan,” I said kindly. “What about your mom? What’s she like?”
His expression softened. I noticed a hint of a smile.
“My mom is the sweetest, most loving woman I’ve ever known. But, she’s stupid.” He tossed that last bit out hotly.
“Logan!” I scolded.
“Sorry, I don’t mean it. It’s just hard. My dad drinks way too much. He hits my mom and calls her horrible names. I’ve tried to get her to leave him. I can take care of her but she won’t leave. She says she can’t because she loves him,” Logan grumbled, shaking his head back and forth, frustration creasing his forehead.
Sadness filled my heart. Logan was turning out just like the man he despised.
“Logan, I’m so sorry,” I consoled him, reaching for his hand.
He pulled his hand away, glaring at me with anguish on his face.
“Don’t! I don’t want your goddam pity, Claire,” he barked, breaking my heart further. No one had ever listened to Logan before, or cared to understand him. I wanted too.
I grabbed his hand again, holding firmly, not allowing him to pull it away this time.
“No, of course not, Logan. I don’t pity you. I only want you to know I’m here for you,” I coaxed and his expression softened.
He smiled appreciatively with my words and squeezed my hand, pulling it to his chest and holding it there while he spoke. “He tells her he wishes I was never born. He was happy with her until I came along and took up all her time.”
The desperation in Logan’s voice was too strong to ignore. I released our hands, grabbing his face, making him look at me. I wanted him to see my eyes when I spoke.
“Logan, look at me. It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not,” I insisted. Everything made sense. Logan felt responsible for the torturous life bestowed on his mother.
Logan continued his confession.
“He hits me sometimes. It’s gotten worse the last couple of years since I started fighting back. When I stand up to him, he sees it as a challenge. Like he has to remind me he can kick my ass. My mom always takes his side and tells me to get out,” he cried, the confession taking a toll on his emotions.
“Oh, Logan,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry,” he screamed through tears, his body swaying back and forth.
I reached around Logan, folding him in my arms. How could his parents have been so selfish? Did they not see what they were doing to him? I was angry, and I had to help him somehow. I rocked him in my arms for a long while thinking how so many kids at school were jealous of Logan. He had all the material things kids our age wanted – the latest iPhone, expensive clothing, and a new truck. In turn, Logan was jealous of all of us because we had the one thing he wanted most in the world – unconditional love.
When Logan finally released my hold I expected him to be embarrassed but instead he stroked my cheek with the back of his hand and thanked me for listening. His conscience was buried deeply, just coming to the surface, warm and kind. I had every intention of bringing it out for him. I kissed him gently on the side of his head.
He stood up swiftly, wiping away tears from his cheeks.
“I have to go Claire. I’ll be back in the morning,” he told me, handing me a bag with water and cannolis from the same restaurant we had eaten from earlier. His expression told his story –the two Logan’s were battling for control. Taking the bag from him I thanked him.
Logan sighed heavily.
“Look, I know I should let you go, but I can’t yet. I’m sorry,” he apologized, wearing a shameful half smile.
“It’s all right, Logan. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I replied, hiding my disappointment. I didn’t want to upset him. Logan didn’t say anything further and left the room. I heard the door close and lock behind him.
I was alone and hurting. Conversing with Logan had helped hide the pain in my body. But now by body was really rebelling and I knew that Brent was my only cure.
CHAPTER 16
“Love means to commit oneself without guarantee, to give oneself completely in the hope that our love will produce love in the loved person. Love is an act of faith, and whoever is of little faith is also of little love.” – Erich Fromm
Somehow I made it through the day, but alone tonight was turning into a totally different story. I was hell-bent on wallowing in self-pity. My plan to tame Logan’s demons took so much out of me. My body trembled painfully. I missed Brent. How was it possible to feel this way so soon? Tomorrow would be seven days from the first time I laid eyes on him. How was it possible after such a short time to be so in love with Brent that it was physically painful to be away from him? Thinking back to my conversation with Omni, I recalled what he said about the importance of finding my match.
A match for you is your lifeline. Now that you have bonded, you’re sealed, with purpose. As long as you’re together you’ll feel the strength your seal provides.
Our seals needed the connection to thrive. It was the only conclusion that made sense.
My life, from the moment my parents died, felt like a never ending nightmare. I tried so hard to wake up to the warm San Diego sun penetrating my blinds, but continued my life in the darkness.
Oh jeez, get over it. My subconscious was scowling at me. Really, a man head over heels for you and a brother you never knew about. Opportunity, not darkness. Logan is the one living in darkness, so get over yourself.
While my subconscious was irritating as ever, she had a valid point. The darkness could be at Logan’s house right now. His father stumbling about, his mother shivering in the corner while Logan and his father shouted at each other, erasing any progress I made with him today.
Pushing away my negative thoughts, I rifled through the bag Logan had left for me. Inside were a variety of items including my toothbrush, change of clothes, pajama shorts with a matching tank, and my book. Obviously, he had been to my house. The thought really annoyed me. My heart softened and I suppressed a smile when I saw my parents smiling at me from the bottom of the bag. Logan was living a lie. This hate-filled evil layer was just an outside façade. Inside, he was a sweetheart of a boy who packed that photo knowing it would comfort me. And it certainly did. I was more determined than ever to eradicate the monster inside of Logan forever. I only hoped I had the courage to do it.
I changed into my pajamas noticing he also brought me a yoga mat and sleeping bag. I rolled it out and crawled inside, thankful Logan left enough rope that I was able to zip it up.
I started reading my book and part of me expected Brent to rescue me, bringing relief from the cramping in my legs when he touched me. My hopes faded with each turn of the page and I drifted to sleep.
I hadn’t been asleep long when I was startled awake. Fearfully, I heard the door slam shut and heavy footprints pounded down the hall approaching me.
My heart skipped a beat. Brent?
“Claire….” Logan’s gurgled voice came through the walls. “I need you, Claire,” he slurred.
Barely able to make out his alcohol-drowned words, I suspected his evening had gone exactly as I thought. He had drunken himself into a stupor to numb the pain.
Logan entered the room thundero
usly and I shrank back. He looked dreadful. His beautiful amber eyes were glazed over, swollen and red. He ogled me with a lopsided smile, plopping himself next to me on the floor, and whispered in my ear. “I missed you, Claire.”
The alcohol on his breath was so strong that I wondered if I wouldn’t end up intoxicated just from inhaling it.
“Logan, you’re drunk!” I scolded, while remaining zipped in the security of my sleeping bag.
“Yup, I am,” he slurred. “But I figured something out.”
I regarded him with my defenses on high alert before asking, “What would that be?
He leaned in close and my body flinched back. He slowly unzipped the side of the sleeping bag and eased up next to me until our bodies touched.
“I’m in love with you, Claire,” he admitted, sliding his hand under my sleeping bag, frightening me. I resisted the urge to crawl away so that I didn’t set him off.
Logan started kissing my neck. I felt chunks of ravioli in my throat burning as it mixed with bile from my stomach. “Logan, you’re not in love with me. You’ve just had too much to drink.”
“You’re wrong, Claire. I love you so much it hurts,” Logan argued, gripping my inner thigh and pulling it close to him, causing me to gasp. “See, you love me too,” he snorted.
Before I could push his hand away, he slid it up my thigh under my shorts, cupping my sex. His evil laugh was frightening, and I froze knowing he was violent when he was like this. My mind sought out a solution that wouldn’t anger him.
“See, I told you that you love me,” he hummed in my ear. My insides vibrated, fire ignited under my skin, burning with anger.
His face hovered over mine. I was still frozen.
Move, Goddammit.
Fear was holding me firmly in place while my thoughts wrestled with how to diffuse him. He took my mouth in his and forcefully bit on my bottom lip. I tasted metal and knew my lip was bleeding. Feeling his hand slide into my underwear, stroking my most intimate spot skin to skin brought my blood to a boil. Like a raging fire, my reaction was unleashed.
