This story is in no particular order as I try to dive into the random snapshots of Logan Echolls' life. Each chapter was inspired by lyrics to songs and I went from there. I enjoy writing about Logan and enjoy exploring different avenues and ways his life could have played out in canon. I hope you guys enjoy the story! Thank you for all the support on my past story! Please let me know what you think of this first chapter. Your reviews are so appreciated and I read each one.

None of these character belong to me, they are all Rob Thomas's genius. Also, all song lyrics mentioned in this story do not belong to me.

Woke up in the morning to another perfect stranger

Jumped into the shower to wash off the situation

I can't tell the difference if I'm crying or it's raining

Either way I know that there is something in the changes

All I could think of is you in that sundress

And if there's a chance to be with you I promise

That I will speak no evil

And I will see no darkness

And I will only only hear your voice

Til the demons go back to where they belong

- Speak No Evil - Magic!

The air hung with the distinct smell of putrid skank. I groaned as I managed to flip my body to my churning stomach, the bitter taste of the coated alcohol on my tongue encompassing my senses. I gagged, the contents of last night's bender coming back to the forefront of my mind as it creeped up my throat, the tones of sweet fruit hanging in the air like a cheap air freshener. My body stiffened as I slowly turned to face another reminder from the night before. I jolted to my feet, taking the covers with me as I stared wide eyed at the sprawled out member in my bed- feeling all sorts of violated at the many rules that had been broken. The ones I had in place to avoid these type of run ins. She barely groaned at my spastic motions, her arms wrapping around her head, the traces of spackled, glitter lotion streaked across her arms. I frowned with a snarling lip. That must have been more appealing last night.

Her different tones of drastic highlights hung in her face, and I leaned across to nudge her -overcome with a desperation to get the bad memory out of my room and to forget how sorry I had become. I found it ironic that it was hard to even graze her when I had been more than intimate the night before. The nasty cycles of this game never ceased to amaze me.

I was now that guy. The one that drank all the contents of the mini bar before the party. The one that continued to down the mixture of numbing drinks, far past drunk and just reaching zonked. The teeth floating feeling and lack of common sense was my sweet spot. That was usually where I made my move, where my companions would join me. It made it easier this way to prey on them in that state. That version of me was far less picky, just looking for a person to attempt to fill the void, keep me warm. Even in the stages before I managed to have enough scruples to be able to identify where they failed in comparison to the person I had been trying to forget this last year. There was a science to my madness and one important aspect of my logic- Get them out before the morning.

See with the morning light came clarity, a slightly more sober me and realization of the nasty reality of someone else in her spot. I had made the mistake a few times, usually with it a contortion of mutated anger at them for being there- where she belonged in my mind. Though I knew the real bad guy was me- I had decided against these scenarios and had played the rules to a tee, today my first mistake in months.

I stared her down like a wild animal was locked away in my room, keeping one eye on her as I threw a t -shirt and shorts on. Again I leaned forward, keeping a safe distance as I let the tips of my fingers barely touch her, picking the top of her fore arm as it seemed the least intimate.

"Hey." I said with gruff slur, the alcohol playing on my tongue again as the mixture of bile and sour left overs caused its usual undertones- regret.

She barely moved yet again, and I figured she must have been even more plastered than me to be in such a state. I nudged her a little harder as I raised my voice, my poisonous edge escaping a bit, pulling my hand back as the sticky contact of her skin made me retreat.

"Hey!"

Her black painted nails flinched as she frantically flicked the streaky strands of hair from her face, revealing smeared make up of epic proportions. Her brown eyes narrowed in panic, before they lit with a raunchy remembrance.

"Oh hey." She said with a slur of pathetic attempts at sultry whispers.

"Hey." I stared flatly, as I tried not to once her over with disgust. After all, blaming her was the easy way out. I was the sick one.

"So." She rolled on her back, making herself more at home, me flinching as I watched her prop her self up in poor imitation of a small blonde that used to inhabit the spot. " Last night." She licked her lips, the traces of bright pink still on them, making me wonder how much she must have originally dawned. "That was fun." She lifted her manicured brows and I crossed my arms.

"Yeah. So." I motioned toward the door. "It's not last night anymore."

Her angled face sucked in at all its narrow points in a flinching pain, but she gained resolve of strength to continue her slay of the millionaire. "Well we could pretend." She said with lazy and limp features as I scoffed.

"Yeah, nope- afraid not."

Her smeared eyes had a monster like resemblance when they filled with the how dare you expression. "Are you serious?" She snarled, as she seemed suddenly self conscious of her revealing state as she grabbed her clothes from the floor, throwing them on in flash like speed.

"Yeah." I walked toward the bathroom as I waved. "You can see yourself out."

This one had tenacity as she chased behind me, the intimateness of where she was encroaching felt like someone inhabiting your most sacred of places, though I held the nasty fire lighting on my tongue. I was the one who had invited her here. I was the one that let in someone into my layer of misery and pain. The one dripping in bitter and sweet memories, the ones I could never escape. I had just failed to escort her out to a cab after, and well that was my sickening mistake in a long line of even more repulsing ones.

"You are seriously not going to even buy me breakfast or anything?"

I turned towards her in my usual dynamic jack ass way, I had this crazed embodiment of me down. "I believe our transaction is done. In fact it is far passed done." I looked at my imaginary watch, flicking my wrist dramatically. "I would say you were supposed to be out of here after the short encounter's ending- hours ago." I folded my hands together as I smirked at her with ridicule and mocking. " So your job is done. Go on." Even I inwardly cringed along with her at my nasty and miserable self showing. Thing is, the girl would believe she was the one with the problem, but truth was if anyone was screwed up- I held the first place title and spot.

She acted as if I had paid her the nastiest of comment as she threw back her head, her stringy, long hair flowing behind. "I am not a hooker, I don't-"

"I didn't say you were." I corrected. "You and I-" I pointed back and forth several times, trying to emphasize my thoughts of her intelligence. " Didn't you get what you were looking for last night? I got what I was in search of. It was nothing more than that- so now the morning has come and thus we move on with our lives, little lady."

She stepped closer. "But I thought we had a connection." And something about her statement made me think maybe she had not gotten what she wished for.

I sighed as I placed my hands over my mouth, feeling a pang of remorse for her as to how useless anyone looking for true meaningful encounters was in coming to me . The poor line that she had executed made me doubt her sincerity though, but even I could not judge that. "Yeah, um, I am sorry, but I am void of ability to have those now. So." I raised my eyebrows. "Are we done?"

She scoffed the lasting traces of her over dose in tequila hit me in the face before she made her dramatic exit out of the suite bathroom. "You are a pig."

"I have been called worse!" I returned in a holler as I leaned against the counter, hands gripped to it with a force as the blow of grief decided to take a swift kick to my gut. One I deserved. They always came on quick and I imagined it was a petite blonde, in her hard toed combat boots administering the punishment, that look of disappointed loathing all over her delicate face. Yeah I had been called a lot worse in my day.

I groaned as I heard the echoes of frantic heels clicking around the suite, as my "friend" from last night gathered her things. She could be robbing me blind, hell, I would deserve it. Maybe I even wanted her to. At least it would be justice of some sorts. Someone getting what they deserved for once.

I slowly cracked open the door, as the small inklings of who I knew I was, who I could be- came out for a visit. Almost like mind control- he had me, my bizarro self as I reached for my wallet and chased after the slamming front door.

I opened it as I saw the girl of tangled morning hair, and inside out clothes march down the hallway in fury making my stomach drop at who I had become. Cuddles and breakfast, romantic notions- all things a woman deserved, they were lost on me. Afraid those abilities were stolen and packed away in a box. Now residing in a university hours away. I figured maybe she stored them on a shelf for giggles. Perhaps gave a tour of where she held the less cold parts of Aaron Echolls' son's heart.

"Chelsea." I said her name, a piece of me dying at the admittance that I remembered. After all, to do that meant I had been some what cognitive when I brought her home, and admittance of that brought a whole slue of other self berating inner comments.

Her shoulders tightened before they sank, her turning towards the door she just left with a a cautious guard. I could see the presence of stray tears, though she wiped them away, almost ridding the visibility completely. That inner me, the one buried deep was now suddenly overcome with guilt and I sighed at the dreaded emotion. "Come here."

She still stood, like a statue and I raised my hands in a plea. "Please."

She gulped with courage as she crookedly walked towards me,the signs of the monster of a man she had encountered moments before slowing fading with each step she took. I watched as the edges of her heels failed as obvious lingering signs of inebriation played all over her, my determination to make sure she made it home growing.

I dug into my wallet as I held out a hundred dollar bill, her disgust was quick and evident as I placed it in her hand. Her mouth snarled into a stiff upper lip as she shoved it back. "I am not a hooker. I told you -"

"I know." I interrupted. "I know you aren't. Just please let me pay for a cab and your breakfast, okay?" She shook her head stubbornly a slight sigh escaping at her utter embarrassment as she nervously tapped her hands against her exposed thighs.

"What? A moment ago I could not get you to even offer me a glass of water and now you are throwing your rich boy money in my face and concerned for my safety and hunger? What gives? "

" I am a grade A ass. Trust me, I know. And as much as I would like to tell you that I am not as horrible as you are thinking.. You are probably right about me. But it is not your fault that you had a run in with a self depraved, bastard. So please let me pay to get you home."

I pushed the money towards her as her eyes rolled expressively as she contemplated my speech. With exasperation and I assume desperation she stuffed the money in her pocket. The action seemed to bring more shame as she crossed her arms,taking the hallway in with darting eyes like she was scared the walls had taken a snap shot of our exchange. Suddenly the one night stand began to morph before my sight. All labels of trashy and preying that I had placed on her vanished as I saw the real girl behind the painted face. And now I felt even more worthless than before as the way I used her struck me further into my core than I would ever let on.

"Thanks, I guess." She said softly. I nodded as she opened her mouth, then shut it tight, sliding on the back of her wedge shoe in a stumble, my hand reaching out to balance her though she looked at it like it was a deadly weapon.

The responsibility to rid her of whatever self loathing she was experiencing hit me, and like word vomit my admittance of my pitiful state spilled out. "It's not you." I said low as her worn face expressed fears of her hook up's sanity. I carried on anyway as I ran my hand vigorously through the disheveled mess of hair I was wearing. "I was telling the truth. I am the last person anyone should go to for a real connection."

Her thin, small mouth turned up in acknowledgment, almost like she recognized herself for a moment before a tender side escaped. "We've all had our hearts broken." She nodded with a large swallow, it feeling as if her pride had gone down with it. "But this." She motioned between us and around us and far past us. "This isn't your answer."

I hitched my head in a stunned acceptance as she now finished the long walk down the hall and vanished behind the elevator, my words hanging on my sour mouth, never leaving where they started.

This was not the first time I had stood speechless in this hallway. Flashes of times long ago were present alongside my companion from the night before's words. Heartbroken. The statement, so defining and condescending. I hated the label and all it plagued me with. And the girl recognized its symptoms in me without straining.

"Well, isn't that just great."

I jerked the handle of the door with a vengeance, as I kicked it shut behind me. Forgetful hook up turned enlightening- pushing me into further repulsed nature toward myself. This downward spiral I have been traveling down escalated through each fiber of my being as my hand involuntarily clenched. The reaction so second nature I was hardly aware of the restriction of joints and muscles until they crashed with full force into the wall closest.

The simmers of the violent outburst faded, the hand like hole in the entryway staring at me with accusatory mocking. It was times like these I was sure Duncan had passed on his epileptic fits, that I would hear soon that they were contagious, as my rage black outs were growing closer and closer together.

The staff would hopefully turn a blind eye to this one as they did the few before, having money can cover a multitude of secrets. I let my finger trace the outer edge of dry wall, the bright crimson covering my knuckles not even startling as I tilted the swollen appendage, eying it like a new part of my body.

I reached for my shirt in catatonic movements, completely unconcerned with the bloody mess now covering the designer piece as I balled it up, heading towards the shower to wash away every stain and nasty reminder of this morning. Maybe you could scrub away your sins. Maybe with the layers of skin you buffed off you could find redemption. This was always my last and final hope at the end of the cycle I repeated.

I always let the water reach a burning temperature. I was not quite sure if it was to make sure each disgusting fiber left on me was cleansed or for a taste of what hell's flames felt like. After all that was where I was surely going.

Maybe it was both...

I let my uninjured hand grasp the wall, head flung forward as the waterfall effect of the scalding water poured down my neck and into my face, another form of punishment, the semi drowning. Maybe with it would come clarity. Sometimes I just hoped to forget. To forget- oh how I longed to. The desire was so painted through my mind in aching, so enveloping of my senses as I dreamed of how it would feel to be rid completely of it.

The blood dripped from my hanging hand, the bright red against the stark white tile making a murderous scene though I never took a second notice. I rubbed the throbbing member down my back as I felt the old scars flinch with far more pain then my current injury, tracing each dead and faded one with hopes of their disappearance. If only we could wish away things. I could wish each one of these life time reminders away.

My eyes dart to the pool of blood now, and images far too disturbing to be ingrained in such a young person flash into my mind. I scoff at the footage playing through my head. It always comes back to this, my body never letting me forget all the pain and all the loss. I could never just have a bad night, no I had to remember each horrible and defining moment of my life along with it. Lilly lifeless, laying in the exact spot she sunbathed in daily, I hated whoever had leaked the film of her. I hated them for the image I could never forget, and for all the reminders of how I had let her down- all the memories attached to the now defiled spot that housed so many treasured moments. Why could I not have at least the memories? Now they even seemed tainted with all that I had to overcome.

My head hits the wall, as I bounce it against it -trying to recreate the pain she must have felt as I often wonder what her final moments were like. Did she suffer- was she completely alone- did she pass on quickly and freely?

My arm goes limp again, the steam so thick my lungs began to believe there is no more air around me, my breaths shallow and raspy. Drip,drip, drip. I watch the trail of slowing blood, the resemblance like tears now as they fall steadily but slowly.

I had never thought of myself as much of a crier. I had endured countless beatings at my father's hand since my earliest years. Hardly ever had I benefited him with the sight of my tears, not since that day he laughed boisterously in my face as they poured out in large crocodile droplets. After then I had sworn I would never let the expression of pain leave me, not for his benefit or anyone else.

I had fought back the tears a many a time as I watched Lilly break my heart and a day later skip off with the nearest willing party- letting someone, anyone who was not me touch her. I fought back the sting with anger. Get even. That was how I survived. People hurt you, you make them pay. It was a sick game between us, and she ultimately won. Making me shed tears as her life was robbed from both of us, all at the hand of my dad yet again. I guess he won as well.

After that, the weak expression would come and go with a violent and uncertain pattern. There was no warning for when it would rear its ugly head though I had a sense of control. That was until my mother dove off a bridge, leaving me alone. My last connection to life gave up on me in the form of pills and a dive as my best friend was lost in a catatonic world, also inflicted by my dead girlfriend. All that was left was my abusive father, my surfer pals who were more concerned with getting high and the latest party. And there was Veronica Mars. Little did I know that the tears of life were just getting started with me, and would take hold of me- all in the form of that pesky and annoying, friend turned enemy, ex of my best friend and closets pal to my dead ex. She was many things in my mind, I just had no clue that the next definition life had for her would be my everything.

Hand to face, massage each joint and muscle, each groove and curve. It is a pattern I do each time she comes to the forefront, her presence is always lingering, but when she is clear- not hidden behind my defense mechanisms, she is debilitating.

I often wonder what she would think of how I operated. My party till I die, kiss each void and tasteless mouth, never stop so the pain never catches up- method. I could see her laughing, pointing, judging- my veins bulging in response. I swear I felt the heat simmer on the top of my skin.

Hate, anger- they are much easier to process than heart break, depression, longing. Me and myself and my inner voice- we all knew the truth. Veronica Mars became the bad guy in my world the moment she walked out. It was much easier to loathe her than to deal with missing her. It was much easier to blame her for everything than to accept my part. I was an expert at hating Veronica Mars when I knew loving her would hurt far worse.

But here in these nasty mornings, the ones after the nights of black outs. The countless shots that I erase her face with. The ones full of stinging touches, that only make me miss her warmth and electricity. These mornings while alone in these secret moments- I know the truth. Hate is the farthest emotion to what I actually feel for the woman who encompassed my past and was slowly fading from my future. I knock my head against the tile again. She was slipping away.

My hands curl on the tile though they never obtain a grip, flashes of broad smiles, and a slight and perfect groove in her chin. Fire and tenacity and long nights of her against me and all the vulnerableness leaving the air of what hung in my bedroom- the encounters the room experienced now feeling cheap and worthless. I had memorized each line of her face and each movement of her body, she was like second nature and loving her was even easier. And now the void of empty hands, and lonely lips, aches of warmth and laughter- they all were tied up in loose ends that only she could control.

And despite a past laced with unimaginable pain.. She was the sole reason for this aching heart and battered and bruised scars covering the tops of my knuckles. She was it. And I was afraid my life purpose would be aimlessly wandering without her.