A/N. Hello, lovlies! This is my new Cargan. It's not entirely solid all the way through yet. There are still plot holes and completely empty spots that I need to figure out and fill in. But I figured that the prologue was ready to go. I hope you like it! I don't own anything.
The road was dark and deserted. Logan Mitchell clutched the steering wheel of his car tightly as he drove slowly through the canopy of trees that outlined either side of him. He wasn't really nervous, he had driven down this particular road alone at night before. He was just being cautious.
Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, Logan groaned. It was well past midnight, nearly one in the morning. He should have been home two hours ago. But an unexpected flat tire had forced him to change his plans. "That's the last time Kendall will let me visit a college by myself," he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. It wouldn't be so bad except that his cell phone had died before he even left the college for the four hour ride home.
He could only imagine what was going on at home. Katie had probably fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him, his mother was probably sitting on the couch next to her, lost in thought. And Kendall. . . well, Kendall wasn't a probably. Kendall was definitely pacing the floor, ready to call the police. In fact, maybe he already had called the police.
Which obviously meant that Carlos and James would find out too. Carlos' dad was the police chief in the state of Minnesota, and James. . . well, if Kendall and Carlos knew, then it would only be a matter of time before James found out too. Logan was looking forward to getting home finally, but he wasn't looking forward to the lecture he would receive. He definitely deserved it this time though. He should have made sure his cell phone was fully charged before he left. Now everyone was going to be worried.
To keep his mind off of something he couldn't help, Logan turned on the radio, flipping through the stations until he found classical music of all things. He wasn't a fan, but at one in the morning, the last thing he wanted to listen to was anything fast or loud. Besides, he had read somewhere that classical music helped you focus. And he definitely needed to be able to focus on the road right now. He was so tired.
As Logan carefully navigated a sharp curve, his headlights glinted off the hood of a car. Frowning, Logan peered through the darkness and caught sight of a car siting off to the side of the road. Three men stood by it, looking disappointed. They looked up as Logan neared them and he really had no choice but to slow down. Rolling down his window just slightly, he said, "Car trouble?"
"Yeah." One of the men nodded and smiled, seeming perfectly friendly except for the slight hint of alcohol on his breath. "You don't happen to have any jumper cables, do you? Or a phone we could borrow?"
Silently, Logan cursed himself again for letting his phone die. "Um, yeah I do have jumper cables. Hang on." Ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him to drive on, Logan pulled slightly ahead of the first car and stopped. Getting out, he retrieved the cables from the back of his car and slowly approached the men. "Um, I don't know exactly how to-"
Suddenly, his breath exploded out of his lungs in a rush as one of the men punched him in the stomach. Doubling over, Logan attempted to stumble away, but was stopped by a second man, grabbing his arms and twisting them painfully behind his back. "Wha-"
"Don't worry, you're not the first to fall for our trick." the first man, he seemed to be the leader, whispered in Logan's ear. He smelled like alcohol even more now, but somehow, Logan could tell he wasn't drunk. That scared him even more. This wasn't a group of men so drunk that they didn't know what they were doing. They knew perfectly well what they were doing. "Don't worry, kid. Just give us your money and car keys and we'll be on our way."
A fist came into contact with Logan's face and his head snapped backwards painfully. Blood spurted from his nose and began to run freely. He opened his mouth to speak and nearly choked on his own blood as it flowed from his nose at an alarming rate. Tears filled his eyes. "Please," he whispered. "S-stop-"
He never finished. Another blow to his stomach, this time a foot, cut off his speech. The hands from behind released him and all three men started to beat on Logan mercilessly. Helpless, he tried to curl into a protective ball, wrapping his arms over his head. The blows were coming fast and heavy and from everywhere. His entire body was screaming in agony, bruises blossoming as punches and kicks rained down on him.
Logan felt and heard a crack somewhere in his ribcage and he opened his mouth to scream in pain. That sound was cut off too when he got a mouthful of boot, effectively breaking his jaw. Gasping, Logan choked again and spit out more blood and what felt like more than one tooth. His hands, trying in vain to protect his skull, were losing their grip quickly, the fingers bruising and breaking, giving in to the relentless force.
A hand slipped in the pocket of his jeans and Logan froze, his mind coherent enough to think of one word: Rape. Panicking, he let go of his head and grasped at the hand, trying to pull it away. But it only emerged from his pocket, gripping his wallet. His head was unprotected.
The same boot that had kicked him in the mouth, collided with his skull. Bright lights danced in Logan's vision even though it was completely dark outside. He tried to return his hands to his head, but he was no longer thinking clearly and couldn't even find the strength to lift his hands. Another kick to the head and the bright lights vanished. He could no longer see, but he could still hear.
"We have to move him," one of the men whispered. "He's right on the side of the road. Someone will see him as soon as the sun comes up."
"Over there then. Drop him down there."
Logan felt hands grip as his ankles and then someone was dragging him over the cold ground. He fought to cling to his last threads on consciousness, but it was a losing battle. Everything hurt, even breathing. He could feel blood soaking into his clothes from multiple injuries and his head felt as though someone was pounding on it with a sledge hammer. Nausea hit him like a tidal wave and Logan turned to his side so he wouldn't choke on the vomit. He could taste blood too and he could only hope that it was from the kick to his mouth and not from internal bleeding.
"Take it off."
Dimly, Logan heard the sound of metal scraping metal. He felt another pair of hands grab at him under the shoulders and together, two of the men lifted him up. Logan felt himself falling and then he hit the ground again with a painful thud. The metal scraped again and everything went dark.
A/N. Well. I mean, I know it was short, but that's what prologues are for, right? I'm going to work on the next chapter of this, as well as, "All of Me", and "Thirteen Reasons." I start school on Tuesday, but I only have one class before graduation this semester, so as long as my muse stays with me, I should be okay. Until next time, thanks for reading! Have a great weekend!