Author's note: I honestly don't know where this came from. I was just trying to sleep one night and this randomly popped into my head. I'm pretty sure most of the good stuff was lost in the sleep that took me shortly afterwards, but I remembered the gist of it.

This one-shot is kind of dark; nothing M rated or anything because that is far beyond my capabilities and maturity level anyways, but definitely dark. Just a fair warning.

Because of that, it's been sitting finished on my computer for a while, because I've been hesitant to upload it. I don't know if it's any good, and it's kind of really depressing. I don't know. :\

The title is from Skillet's song, 'The Last Night', which I find, actually matches this story down to the nub. Y'all should definitely check it out. This story is more from the opposing point of view of the song though, so if you do listen to it, just keep that in mind. Maybe listen to it after you read the story.

Again, I don't know where this came from. I'm kind of scared. XD

No slash, just friendship.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


The Last Night

I, am, a murderer. In my actions, I intended to take a life. I intended to end the beating of a heart; to stop the breathing of the living.

Well, I attempted to.

Yet even now, they act as if I was a victim. As if I was led to this; provoked, to do this. They cry and sob as if it were all their fault; they apologize over and over, begging my forgiveness for leading me down this path. As if I was just an innocent that experienced a horrible tragedy.

How dare they try and take credit for my dark deed. The guilt and remorse are mine to bear, not theirs. The consequences of the crime are mine to face alone. I did it all; by myself. No one aided me, no one provoked me.

I was the one who grabbed the knife when no one was home. I was the one who slid it down the delicate skin of my victim, and watched the red drip onto the kitchen tile. No one helped me do it; I did it alone, all on my own.

And still they apologize that such a horrible thing had happened. Still they cry that I did this, mourn that this happened to me, beg that they be forgiven for leaving me to do such a thing.

I wanted to take a life. I lusted for it. Yet they do not hate me, or fear me, or look at me in disgust. They don't wish me locked away from the world, never to hurt anyone else again. They are not mad, angry, furious with me for attempting such a thing. They are not disappointed that I stooped so low.

I didn't think while I committed the deed. I didn't consider the consequences. I just let adrenaline and fear, and sadness fuel me; control me. I didn't think of them. Only of myself. Of my victim. I didn't realize what I was doing was wrong; that it would hurt people.

I know now though. I know how badly I hurt them. I know how horrible the deed was; to try to take a life. My mind is racked with guilt and sadness, and shame. I see the hurt every time I stare into their teary eyes, and I can't hold their gaze; I know I stooped too low. Shame and guilt are the only things I can feel now.

Nothing can change what I did. I attempted murder.

Yet as I lay in the psych ward of the hospital; the floor for the suicidals, they cry for me.

That's right; the life I attempted to take; the murder I attempt to commit, was my own.

I'm an attempted murderer. But I guess that also makes me a victim.

They call it suicide, like it isn't as serious as murder; like it's in a whole different category. But the truth is there. I intended to take a life; that is the definition of murder. Whether it was my own or not shouldn't matter. I took action to end a life.

Well, I attempted to.

Why? Because; I hate it. I hate all the heaviness I carry in my mind, my heart. I hate all the invisible scars that defile my body and heart; that continually steer me away from the perfection that society so eagerly wants me to achieve. I hate all the daily pain I'm forced to endure; inflicted by strangers, peers, aquaintances, friends. Physical and mental pain are my life. No one wants to live a life of that.

So I attempted to leave it.

No one understands. They don't see, don't know the pain. They can't understand how hard it is for me to get out of bed every day, knowing that the pain is all the world has to offer me. They don't see.

They've never seen.

But perhaps that's because I've never let the pain known. I've never spoken to anyone, asked anyone for help. I've never shown weakness to the ones that matter. I hide it, bury it; make sure no one knows it's there. Make sure no one knows how weak I am. I force a smile, fake a laugh, feign happiness.

They've never noticed the burdens that weigh me down day by day, because I don't let them see. They've never noticed the hurt that clouds my mind. They've never noticed when the world has brought me down, made me feel insignificant, weak, worthless. They never knew that I wanted to leave all that pain, to get away.

The one time they notice, and it's when I finally find a way out.

There's no rest for me. Never a respite, or break. I can never get away from the pain. The world doesn't let me. When I find a way out, I'm pulled right back in. There's no escape. I'm trapped here; forced to endure.

Maybe I am a victim. A victim of hate, and ridicule, and disdain. A victim of pressure, and bullying, and abandonment. A victim of loneliness, and self-hatred, and depression. And most recently; a victim of an attempted murder.

But being a victim does not lighten the consequences of the dark deed. I attempted to take a life; my own life. I realize now how much that one selfish deed has hurt the ones around me.

But how was I to know that it would hurt anyone? No one gave me the impression that they cared for my well-being. No one informed me that I was wanted around them. No one told me that I was loved.

Yet now, I see. I see it in the tears they shed for me; in the heart-broken stares they lay upon me. I hear it in their broken voices, uttering their deepest and most sorrowful apologies; they are sorry for leaving me, for allowing me to believe that I truly was all alone. They're sorry for allowing me to believe that I had no one that wanted me in this world; that would miss me if I were gone. They apologize for never being there for me; for ignoring my pain, my burdens.

I see the pain my actions have caused in their eyes. The guilt will eat me alive for the rest of my life.

Now, they promise to do better; to be better. They promise to never leave my side; to always be there for me when I have bad feelings. They promise to protect me from my inflicters; to take away any pain I have. They promise to love me and care for me.

They promise to see. To see all my pains; to see all my sorrows.

Could this be the 'out' I was searching for? Could this be real? Perhaps 'murder' wasn't the only way after all. Perhaps all I needed to do was talk. To voice my pain; to make them known. I shouldn't have hidden it away; feigned happiness and normalcy.

I should have went to them.

I should have told them everything; all my pain and burdens; all the hurt that people have caused. I should have told them, let them know what has troubled me all my life. I should have asked for help, instead of waiting for them to find out that I needed it.

They cry for me, and I cry for them, because they're finally showing me the love and care that I longed for, and craved for so long. They see my pain, and are willing to help me bear it. They even long to take it all completely away. They care for me, and they hurt deeply inside, because of my crimes, my actions. I hurt them, just as much as the world has hurt me. I tried to leave them, thinking I had no place in this world; but they never wished me to go.

They cry for what I've done. They cry for what they had done to lead to my actions. They cry for my pain. They mourn for the happiness they didn't know I never had.

And at the same time; with determined eyes, they promise to make everything better. They promise to make the world a gentler place for me. They promise to steer away any pain before it reaches my heart.

I cry for them. I cry for the pain, and hurt in their eyes. I hurt them. I caused their pain. I cry for this new love they show me; this undying care and affection; unconditional love I never knew I had.

My eyes descend to the bed I lay on. Holding their pained and teary gazes is too much for my aching heart to bear. My eyes drift to the thick white bandages around my wrists. Tears slide down my cheeks as I recall that sweet feeling of relief, as I watched the red slide down my arm. That weightless, giddy feeling of escape. I was lost, for so long, but I had found a way out.

What I didn't know, was that people were looking for me all along. While I was lost, wandering; they were searching for me; for my happiness. They searched for ways to see me, to find me. They searched for ways to make me see them.

They finally found me. And I found them.

I stare at the bandages on my wrist with a sniffle, and then my hand is lifted into the tight grip of one of my best friends.

Kendall stares at the bandages as tears fall from his eyes. He rubs my hand comfortingly with his thumb.

I want to speak to him; to tell him I'm sorry. But my own voice betrays me, blocked by the large lump of guilt and sorrow wedged in my throat. I can only stare as tears slide down my cheeks.

My other hand is lifted, and I look over to Mrs. Knight, Kendall's mother; our own surrogate mother. She brings my hand to her lips and kisses it gently.

Carlos sits beside her. He scoots closer, silently asking consent. He gently takes my hand from Mrs. Knight and very carefully and gently, raises the bandage around my wrist to his face. I cringe instinctively as he brings it to his lips, but the pain doesn't spike. His gentle and caring touch soothes the wound, almost willing it to disappear; like it was never there.

James and little Katie sit at the foot of the bed. They both have had a comforting hand on my legs since they all entered the room an hour ago. They all have tears sliding down their faces. Their eyes are so red and puffy; like they've been crying for days when truthfully, it's only been a few hours.

I close my eyes as a soft sob escapes. I can't bear the pain of seeing them so broken. My heart aches to soothe their pain.

"I'm sorry." I whisper softly. My voice is weak and raspy, my eyes red and remorseful, my heart heavy and aching.

"Shhh." Kendall soothes shakily as he runs a hand through my hair. "It's okay." He whispers tearfully. "We're here now."

"We've got you Logie." Carlos says softly, a sniffle tailing his sentence. He pets my hand endearingly.

"We'll never let you fall that far again." James says determinedly. To emphasize his point he gently squeezes my leg. "We promise Logie."

"We'll always be there for you." Kendall says softly.

"But you have to want us." Mrs. Knight whispers, almost apprehensively; as if she's afraid that what she wants to say will offend me, anger me. "Please Logan. Let us help you." She pleads softly, desperately. She closes her eyes against the tears cascading down her cheeks.

I sniffle as I stare at her. Then my eyes scan the rest of the occupants of the room longingly. "You're all I've ever wanted." I whisper brokenly.

Katie shifts on the bed, lightly laying across my legs. "Now you have us." She whispers, closing her eyes as she hugs my legs. "But we want you, too."

"Let us help you." Kendall says softly. He holds my hand firmly in both of his. "Please." He whispers. "Trust us."

I stare at all of them; this unfamiliar feeling of being cared for momentarily baffling me, rendering me speechless. I stare into all of their teary and pleading eyes.

Maybe I attempted the wrong thing. Maybe, instead of attempting to end my life; I should have attempted trusting them. To trust my family, sitting here with me.

A small, but genuine smile crosses my lips for the first time in a very long time, and I give a small nod. "I trust you." I whisper, gently tightening my hands around Kendall's and Carlos'.

Mrs. Knight leans over and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes with the contact; savoring it.

"We won't let you down Logan." Kendall says softly, yet firmly, daring me not to believe. Surprisingly, I dare not. His intensity and sincerity allows a small flutter of hope to erupt in my broken heart.

"We love you Logie." Carlos says softly.

"And we always will." James says softly, but holding the same intense sincerity that Kendall had.

I sniffle, my tears of sorrow morphing into tears of. . .Joy. Such a new feeling for me.

I like it.

I squeeze the hands of my friends; my family, as I stare at them.

"I love you guys too." I say softly.

My tears overflow, and I break down into soft sobs. Mrs. Knight lifts me into her arms, hugging me tightly as she soothes me.

Kendall wraps an arm around my shoulders, hugging both me and his mother; offering security.

Carlos continues to squeeze my hand, kissing it every now and then.

James and Katie hug my legs, rubbing them occasionally to offer any comfort they can.

My sobs are uncontrollable as I cry into Mrs. Knight's arms; as I feel every single caring touch from my friends.

I've finally found it. I've finally found my happiness.

It was in them all along.


Author's note: I don't know. This thing was kind of all over the place, and the ending was completely different from what I wanted to go with at the beginning. But like I said; that part of the story was lost when I feel asleep. :P I guess this will have to do.

Sorry if this totally depressed you. Again, I don't know where it came from. :\