A/N. I'm suffering from Writer's Block for 'Head On Collision', I just updated 'How to Save a Life' and I'm stuck on the second request I have. I can't even figure out a 100 Themes to write. Anyway, this is basically 'All These Lives' from Logan's POV until the beginning of 'September'. It's not necessary for you to read either of them but things might make a little more sense. They're rated T however because this is from Logan's POV I decided to be better safe than sorry and make this M rated. I don't own anything.
When he first opened his eyes, Logan could see nothing at all. His first reaction was to panic, thinking he had gone blind. He opened his mouth to call for one of his friends but stopped short when he realized that his eyes were simply adjusting to the pitch black all around him. He held up a hand in front of his face and was barely able to make out his fingers waving experimentally. It was dark, but at least he could see.
Where am I? The thought tripped around in his mind and Logan was suddenly aware of a terrible ache in his head. He groaned and sat up slowly to drop his head into both of his hands. He rubbed his temples with his fingertips, trying to think past the pain. And then it came to him and Logan froze as the memory came rushing back.
He had been kidnapped. A tiny cry escaped him and he clapped a hand over his mouth, fighting back waves of panic. Someone, a complete stranger, had taken him right out of his bedroom in 2J. He tried in vain to fight back the mounting terror and only succeeded in biting his lower lip so hard that he drew blood. This couldn't be happening. Not for real. Logan desperately pinched his lower arm, dragging in a shaky gulp of air as he did so. He remained where he was, wherever that actually was, he didn't know. There were so many questions and no answers.
Where was he? Who had taken him and why? How long had he been unconscious? Were the others looking for him?
Logan scolded himself silently for the last question. Of course they were looking for him if they knew he was missing. He had no idea what time it was and he didn't know exactly how long he had been missing but he did know that as soon as everyone back at the Palm Woods found out, they would start looking for him. Unless. . .
No. Logan shook his head, trying to forget the horrible thought. There was no way. They had to be fine. He had to have been the only one taken. As he told himself that, a vague memory started nagging at him. There had been a voice that accompanied the hand over his mouth. It had told him that as long as he didn't struggled, everyone else would be fine. Logan was smart and he knew better than to trust some psycho who had kidnapped him, but it was the only hope he had. The others had to be safe. "Please let them be okay." He whispered aloud, jumping at the sound of his voice breaking the silence.
Just then there was a noise overhead and Logan jerked his head to look up. There was a trap door cut into the ceiling and as a beam of light illuminated the room very slightly, Logan could tell that it was the only source of access to the room he was in. He cringed against the wall as he watched a man lower himself to the floor and then turn to face him.
It was a face he had never seen before and yet Logan knew right then that it was a face he would never forget. The blonde hair was greasy and lay flat on a balding head. Pale blue eyes stared out from a face that looked like it had never seen the sun before. "Hello," The stranger whispered in a voice that would haunt Logan for the rest of his life. "I see you're awake."
Breathe. Logan reminded himself. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "W-who are y-you?" He asked in a whisper.
The man's lips curled upwards in a sick smile and he stepped closer to Logan, the smile widening when he saw Logan back up at his approach. "I don't think that's something you need to know." He said coolly. "I know who you are though, Logan Mitchell."
"W-why d-did you take m-me?" Logan stammered out.
He expected another evasion but instead the man shrugged and chuckled. "Oh, I needed something to do. You could say I was bored."
His silent orders to breath were just barely working. Logan knew that panicking wouldn't help but he was beginning to panic just the same. "You didn't hurt anyone else did you?" The sudden strength in his voice surprised him but he just had to know.
"No, no. Don't worry about your little friends. I suspect that they're worried about you right about now but they're unharmed." The man knelt down in front of Logan, watching the violent tremors that shook the boy's entire body. "Are you frightened, Logan?"
"Y-yes." Logan answered in a faint voice. "What are you g-going to d-do with me?"
"Well," The man raised his gaze to the open trap door. "First I have to make sure that you never try to escape." As he spoke he reached for Logan and gripped his left ankle in both hands, then gave it a sharp twist.
Logan heard the bone crack before he felt the pain. He cried out and his vision became blurred at the edges as he fought to remain consciousness. He felt the hands leave his ankle and immediately, he grasped it in his own two hands and curled into a fetal position on the floor.
The man smirked at Logan's obvious discomfort and stood up, nodding in satisfaction. "There." He said quietly, just above the whimpers of pain that were forcing their way between Logan's lips. "That should do it for now." Before he turned to leave, he carelessly nudged Logan's injured foot with the toe of his boot, taking a sick pleasure in the cry of pain that interrupted the quieter whimpers. "I'll be back, Logan."
Logan was almost too absorbed in his injury to notice the man leave but a shaky sigh of relief escaped him. He closed his eyes and tried to breath evenly as his fingers carefully felt his foot He winced and tears came to his eyes when he pressed even a little on the ankle. It was broken. It had to be. The crack had been his bone splitting apart. "Help me." He pleaded to no one in particular. He was alone. So horribly alone.
The reality of his situation had finally hit him and it was crushing him. He was drowning in panic and fear. A wave of pain washed over him and he let go of his ankle to claw desperately at the floor, willing the pain to at least ease. Dirt gathered underneath his fingernails and the thought that he was probably in a very old cellar passed by before the pain distracted him from everything else.
Logan was aware of the fact that he had to do something for his ankle. He lifted his head castiously, groaning when the room around him spun and made him dizzy. He eyed had adjusted as much as possible and the only object he could make out in the dark room was what appeared to be a work bench. It was all the way across the floor but it appeared to be his only source of help. So he propped himself up on his elbows and began dragging himself slowly over to the other side of the room.
It was extremely slow going and even the smallest of movements was absolute agony. Logan had to stop several times so he didn't pass out from the pain. He gritted his teeth in determination and more or less used his upper body to drag the rest of him to his destination. At last he made it and Logan gripped the edge of the table and managed to pull himself into a sitting position. There, he could just see what was on the table's surface over his head.
Masks of all shapes, sizes, and colors stared back at him, their empty eyes seeming to stare straight through him. Logan cried out and fell backwards in his haste to escape the faces. His aching head thudded painfully against the hard floor and darkness nearly claimed Logan. But he fought to stay awake. "They're just masks." He told himself as if it made anything better. "They can't hurt you."
So he raised himself up once again, this time intent on finding something, anything, that he could use to wrap his ankle up. Cloths, sticks and other random bits of material lay clustered together and Logan ignored everything else so he could take what he needed.
There was no way he could possibly drag himself all the way across the room again so Logan leaned against the solid wooden work bench and set about constructing a make-shift splint for his ankle. When he had finished, he studied it carefully. The work was crude and hardly sufficient for his injury but it would have to do.
It was after he did all this that Logan began to cry. He pressed his face into the dirt floor and sobbed like a baby, his entire body shaking wildly. "Wake up, wake up, wake up." He told himself, uselessly trying to wake up from what was obviously a very real nightmare.
He never saw his captor again that day which was the lone comfort. He finally laid down, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible and cried himself into an uneasy sleep where any dreams he might have could never come close to the horror that awaited him when he woke up.
An ice cold bucket of water accompanied by a swift kick, woke Logan. He had no idea how long this had been going on but he knew that he could never get used to it. He coughed and sputtered, shivering violently as the water runs down his back, doing a poor job of washing his filthy body.
"You smell." The monster sneered at him in disgust. "It almost makes me sick."
Logan knew better than to reply in any way and remained silent, waiting for the morning torture to begin. Or was it the middle of the afternoon? Late at night? It was impossible for him to tell because the only light he ever saw was the dimly lit lamp that the monster brought with him so he could see properly to "play" with Logan.
He didn't have to wait long. A hand gripped his right wrist and jerked his arm up. "What is this?" The poison in the voice was terrifying to hear and Logan couldn't answer right away. So the monster gave another hard tug and leaned down until his face was inches from Logan's. "I said," He hissed menacingly. "What is this?" With a furious jab, he indicated to the blue cloth that was wrapped carefully around Logan's lower arm.
"That," Logan said, too tired to speak very loud. His voice was horse from the screams that the torture frequently tore from him and when he was by himself he didn't speak at all. The two extremes made his throat ache and he winced as he spoke. "I had to stop the bleeding. You cut me too deeply last time."
The monster growled low in his throat and released Logan's arm so he could shove him away. "Too deeply, huh? Listen to me. You are my toy. I can play with you however I want. I can cut you as deep as I want. Got that?"
Logan nodded mutely and shut his eyes when he saw the knife being withdrawn from the coat pocket. He felt the cold metal carve into his arm and he hissed in pain. He felt the blood seeping from his newest cut and trickling down his arm in a crimson ribbon of liquid. "Please," He whispered when he felt two hands squeeze close to the cut, making the blood run faster. "Don't-"
"Oh, don't worry." A hand released his arm and patted his cheek, staining it with blood. "I won't kill you. What would I do for fun?" The hand stopped patting his cheek and instead fingers trailed down the pale skin, pausing to rest on the bones that had started to poke out. "I need my favorite toy."
Logan's eyes remained closed but he could feel the warm breath close to his face and he shivered as a voice whispered inches from his ear. "Ready to play?" He nodded, knowing that hesitation only made things worse, and then braced himself as much as possible.
It was never enough. He could never be prepared for the pain that was inflicted on him by the monster. Logan's breath left his lungs when an iron fist connected with his stomach and he bent forward, choking on the lack of oxygen. His head snapped backwards at a slap and tears sprung to his eyes.
"Stop crying!" The monster roared and grasped Logan by the shoulders, slamming him into the concrete wall. He then kicked at the ribs that now showed through the dirty and ratty T-shirt. "I don't want to hear you cry, do you understand?"
"Y-yes." Logan gasped out weakly. "I-I'm sorry." He was let go and his legs instantly gave out from under him, leaving him to crumple to the ground in a heap. He smelled smoke and bit his lip to keep from crying because he knew what was coming next.
"You look cold." The voice had softened but was somehow even more terrifying. "Let me warm you up."
Soon the smell of his own burning flesh reached Logan's nostrils and made his eyes water. The cigar moved up and down and around his neck, creating a necklace pattern. The pain was terrible but it was the smell that bothered Logan the most, reaching way past his nose and digging deep down in his body. He jerked away, gagging and then retching on the dirt floor. He heard a curse and the fire disappeared for the time being.
"You disgusting freak." The monster muttered. He shoved Logan's face into the small pile of vomit. "Eat it." He ordered.
Logan's stomach churned violently but he couldn't lift his face if he tried. He inhaled by accident and choked as the acidic smell of his own sick slammed into him. But he complied because he knew disobedience would only make things worse.
"That's it. Clean up after yourself." Finally the hand was lifted from the back of his head and Logan jerked up, taking deep breaths in a desperate attempt to keep from throwing up again. "I'll be back later."
Logan was enclosed in darkness once again and he shut his eyes so that he could try and pretend that he was asleep. His body shook with sobs that he kept silent by pressing his fist against his mouth. He was so utterly exhausted of fighting. He didn't know if he could keep it up for much longer. Each day was only getting harder and harder, the hope fading as quickly as his life.
The sensation of blood running down his arm made Logan stop crying. He sat up slowly, his body screaming in protest because everything hurt. He had to stop the bleeding. The cut was too deep again. He reached for a spare cloth on the table above him but suddenly stopped.
What if he didn't try to stop the bleeding? He might be okay but he could also die. It would be all to easy to lay in the dark and let the blood loss drain him of what life he still had in him. But then Logan shook his head and reached for the cloth. He couldn't do that to them. So even though he knew that he would be punished later for using up the monster's mask materials, he wrapped up the cut on his arm and then laid back down.
They still might find him. It seemed very unlikely, practically impossibly, but Logan had to hold onto the slimmest bit of hope that a miracle might happen. It he let himself die or even killed himself and they found him like that then all their efforts would be in vain and it would be all his fault. "Find me." He whispered into the dark. "Please, please find me. Soon. I need you."
He always refused to admit that he was talking to himself. He was talking to those he had left behind. To Kendall. To James. To Carlos. To his adoptive mother and Katie. To Camille. To anyone who might be listening no matter what distance lay in between them. He tried to imagine what things might be like if his dream did come true and they did find him. He kept the thoughts close by and held tightly to them. He might be happy again. But first he had to live.
The trap door opened unexpectedly and Logan quickly brushed away the four stick figures he had traced in the dirt. Then he shut his eyes, hiding his fear as much as he could.
"Get up. We're leaving."
Logan's eyes flew open and he met the white blue eyes. "What?" He asked in a faltering tone before he remembered that it was stupid of him to ask questions. He was always punished.
But he only received on kick to the ribs and then the voice ordered him to his feet once again. Logan scrambled to obey and managed to stand, wavering unsteadily. "Good. Now listen to me. We're going outside and you're going to walk straight to my car and climb in the trunk. No running. No screaming. Or I promise that you'll die and so will everyone you care about."
Logan nodded weakly. He didn't even register that words until they had stepped outside and he breathed in fresh air for the first time in months. He stopped, stunned by the unfamiliar sensation but he was soon shoved roughly forward and he stumbled to the car waiting in the night. He almost cried when he laid down in the trunk and was cut off from the beautiful freedom he had experienced for such a short amount of time.
Time had become a mystery to Logan. He had no idea how long he had been held captive by the monster. He had no idea of when it was night or day. He had no idea of how long their journey in the car took but it had to be long enough so that every once in a while, he was let out to breath in fresh air so that he wouldn't die. These moments were few and always at night with the cold metal of a gun pressed in warning to the side of his head. Logan didn't dare try to escape or scream for help.
But eventually, they reached their destination. It was night again but the air was freezing and Logan shivered hard in his thin clothing. Despite the fact that he was sure he would die of hypothermia before he got very far, Logan had an almost overwhelming to run then. But once more he suppressed it and followed the monster into the small house and down into the small basement.
"Welcome to your new home." The monster whispered gleefully. "I think we should celebrate, don't you?"
No. Of all the ways he had been tortured, Logan knew that his least favorite way was coming next. He shut his eyes again as his shirt was lifted and hands began exploring his thin body. He shuddered, a small sob forcing its way out of his throat.
"Shhh." The monster whispered. "Just relax. I just want to play with my favorite toy. It'll all be over soon."
But it was never over soon enough and when the hands finally stopped touching and the lips finally stopped kissing, Logan was left alone to cry and pick up the pieces of his broken and shattered innocence. It never went further than what the monster called, "harmless" touches and kisses but it was enough to do irreversible damage to Logan.
He gazed into the dark, finding a box cutter and a long rope that the monster had left behind. He frequently left items like these behind for Logan to use if he wanted to. Logan knew perfectly well what that meant. In case he wanted to kill himself. With the box cutter, it would only take one cut on one wrist, He even knew exactly where and how to cut. With the rope. . . Logan glanced up at the stairs and the railing that was nearly taunting him.
He sat up and took both of the items in his hands and stared at them, deep in thought. It would be so easy. It would all be over so quickly. He- Logan shook his head and with all his strength, threw the rope and the box cutter to the other side of the basement. Then he laid back down and stared at the ceiling, waiting, hoping, and as his eyes drifted shut, dreaming.
"I don't want to die." Logan spoke into the darkness. "I don't want to kill myself. I don't want you guys to be hurt if. . ." He trailed off as tears burned his eyes and tightened his throat. "Please find me soon. I can't wait much longer."
He closed his eyes and tried to remember the sound of Kendall's voice. He tried to imagine his older friend telling him that everything would be okay. He tried to remember what James' smile looked like and what Carlos' laugh sounded like. The memories were beginning to fade from his memory. Each day they were slipping away from him, growing dimmer and dimmer and that was what was killing him more than anything else. If he forgot them then it would all be over. He really would die.
"I miss you guys so much." Logan continued talking. "I wish I could see you all one more time." As he spoke, his fingers traced again four tick figures and he smiled thinking of how right it looked. But it was only an image and it made his heart ache worse.
Upstairs, he could hear the monster moving around and Logan hoped that he was too busy with his new toys, his drugs, to bother with him. His fingers lifted from his dirt figure drawings and traced the various scars that marred the pale skin. He wondered if they would ever leave him and knew that the scars his heart were more permanent.
"I'm so tired." He whispered in a throaty whisper. :"Every day it gets even harder and. . . I have all these scars. Would you even want me back?"
It was then that the answer came to him in a near hallucinating for Logan was sure he heard Kendall's voice then. "Always, Logie." It said, filling Logan with strength that had left him. He remained perfectly still and quiet, waiting for Kendall to say something else or for James and Carlos to chime in their agreements. But he only heard the monster walking around overhead.
Then he heard another sound and then different voices that he had never heard before. But no. No, there was one lone voice that stood out to Logan. He listened. Make that two voices that he was sure he had heard before. But he was so weak and so tired that he could reach back far enough in his memory to remember specifics.
A gunshot jerked him out of his thoughts and even though he had no idea what was happening, Logan smiled. He let his imagination run wild and he let himself believe that the monster had just been shot and maybe even killed. He was sure he was dreaming so he laid down and closed his eyes, trying to stay in the dream for as long as possible even though it would be painful when he finally woke up.
The basement door opened and one of the familiar voices came nearer. Logan clung to it, sure that he would really die once he woke up. He couldn't make out any words and he didn't open his eyes as two pairs of footsteps neared him.
He heard someone gasp and then someone had turned around and went running up the steps, shouting something. Rescue. It had come to him in his dream. A lone tear fell from Logan's closed eyes. He never wanted to wake up. But then things took an unexpected turn.
"Hey, I'm Chief Carlos Garcia." Carlos' father. What a cruel twist to his dream. But Logan couldn't resist and he opened his eyes at the same time as the voice cut itself off in a startled gasp. Then, "Logan."
It really was him. Logan wasn't dreaming. All the same, he reached out to touch so he could make sure. His fingers were soon wrapped up in a gentle hand and Logan used the contact to pull himself closer. "You found me. I knew you would find me." He was embraced then and Logan began to cry. He felt Mr. Garcia's strong frame shuddering with his own sobs and sought to comfort him. "Papa,"
"I've got you." A kiss was dropped on the top of Logan's head but he didn't pull away because the love was real. "I've got you, Logan. It's over."
Over. He could hardly believe it but he wasn't about to question the words. He had no idea why he had been found by one of his best friend's fathers of all people. It seemed too good to be true. But it was true. It was real. "Don't let go." Logan begged, his voice harsh with tears. "Please don't let me go."
He was promised that he wasn't going to be let go and then he was lifted up and Mr. Garcia was standing,holding him in his arms. Logan couldn't remember a day he had felt so completely safe. Even when the thought of the monster waiting upstairs came to him, Mr. Garcia was quick to assure him that he was gone and would never hurt him again.
The sunshine was bright but Logan was still in Mr. Garcia's arms until the police chief tried to lower him to a stretcher. "No," He panicked. "Please don't let me go." And he didn't calm down until the two of them were settled into the back of the ambulance and he was sure that he wasn't going to be let go any time soon. "I'm safe now, aren't I?" He asked, allowing a small smile to light up his pale features.
"Yes you are, Logan." Mr. Garcia says with a nod. He brings him impossibly closer until Logan's head is pressed up against the broad chest and can feel a heart beating wildly. "We won't let anything happen to you. I promise that you're safe."
"I believe you." Logan told him, burying his face deeper into the navy blue uniform shirt so that he can feel the heartbeat even more. "Thank you for saving me."
Their separation was inevitable but that didn't make it easier for either of them. Logan panicked and cried until he felt a prick in his arm and then everything went dark. He was afraid of coming back to consciousness because he might be alone when he woke up. But he should have known better.
Three familiar voices pulled him from his dreamless sleep. It was as if he had never forgotten anything about them. Kendall, James, and Carlos. They were in the same room with him. Kendall was sobbing harder than Logan had ever heard him before and Carlos kept alternating between "Logie" and "James" and James. . . Where was James? He had to be there too.
And he was. After Logan woke up and found himself in the embrace of Kendall and then Carlos, he questioned where James was only to have James appear by his side and hold him as tightly as he dared. They really were all there. With him. They were together again even though it seemed impossible.
For the first time in months, Logan truly understood why he had held onto hope. In the end it had all paid off. He was safe again and he knew that he always would be.
A/N. Okie dokie. I'm exhausted right now. Um, reviews are nice if you liked this. They only take a couple of minuets too. How convenient since this took me a few hours to write. I shall get back to writing my T rated angst next okay? Okay. I love you all.