You're So Cold, but You Feel Alive: Logan's Back-story
It was about three months after Zander's defeat. James and Riley had moved back to the Palm Woods and had both survived the hybrid transformation. To make things even better, everyone was on good terms with everyone else, even Kendall and James. Things were great!
One night, the seven teens were sitting around, talking. They were reminiscing about the past, telling stories of when they were younger. Of course, none of these stories featured Logan or Carlos, because they were both significantly older than any of the other teens. In fact, Logan was 151 years old, and James, Kendall, and Carlos had only met him when they were in high school back in Minnesota.
After James had finished telling a story of how he and Kendall had accidently locked Katie in a closet for two hours when she was six, (don't ask), the conversation turned to Logan. It was no secret that he was a werewolf and everyone wanted to know how it had happened. Logan winced at first, not wanting to relive the hell he had gone through in his journey to become what he was today, but he knew it was time to face the past. With Camille's head resting on his shoulder and her hand intertwined with his, Logan drew in a deep breath and began his story.
It was a chilly November evening. Hortense Mitchell was studying at the library. He was 16 years old and was absolutely brilliant. In fact, he was going to be the youngest person admitted to the prestigious Minnesota Medical College for Men. He had his entrance exam in about a week and devoted all of his free time to studying. The year was 1860. The Industrial Revolution and the invention of electricity had made big city living much more comfortable. The library in which Hortense was studying was furnished with new lamps and cushy chairs, the perfect study companions. Sadly, these kinds of luxuries could only be afforded by the upper classes in Minnesota and those who lived in places like Minneapolis. The town where Hortense lived was still just a poor farming community who had just recently made the switch to indoor plumbing, but he loved it nonetheless.
Hortense looked at the timepiece in his pocket and saw that it was 10:30 p.m., way past his curfew! He had simply lost track of time while studying all sorts of fascinating things about the human body. Muttering under his breath as he gathered his supplies into his satchel, Hortense raced out of the library and back towards Lazereth, the town where he lived.
Once he got outside of the city, there were no street lamps because electricity was reserved only for big cities. This made the walk home very dark, save for the light of the full moon, which illuminated the sky with its bright face. In any case, Hortense walked faster in order to avoid thinking about all of the terrible things that lurked in the forests that ran parallel to the road.
Finally, he could make out the square sign that read "Welcome to Lazareth" in white letters. He quickly made his way in the direction of his house. Once he got past the town square, he noticed something odd. There were no people. There was no one in the bars, no lights on in any of the buildings, nothing. It was as if the town was deserted. Hortense pulled his jacket tautly around his svelte frame as an unnatural chill rippled through him. Something wasn't right. Even Old Man Cochoran, the town drunk, could usually be found stumbling around the town at this time, soliciting the neighbors for money for a few drinks. Hortense, however, pushed this out of his head as he tried to come up with a believable story to tell his mother.
He was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he heard a bloodcurdling scream! It came from one of the dark buildings and reverberated throughout the silent streets. That was enough to scare Hortense, who took off running towards his house.
At last, he found himself at the three-bedroom flat that he shared with his parents and two siblings. The Mitchells owned a small one acre plot of land on which they raised livestock, mostly cows and chickens. Before going into the house, Hortense went into the barn and grabbed the lantern that hung on a hook by the door. As he walked back to his house, he noted the strange and unnerving tranquility, especially in the barn.
"That's odd. Normally at this hour, Penny the hen is squawking up a storm," he thought to himself.
He discarded his jacket and bag at the front door as he lit up the lantern.
"Hello? Mother? Father? I'm home. Forgive me for being late. Anyone?" he called as he walked through the kitchen.
His cry fell on deaf ears, though because silence was his only response. As he walked through the house, the flickering flame from the lantern sent gruesome shadows dancing across the walls. He first peeked inside the room he shared with his older brother Jesse, but found the bed as neat as it had been when he left at 6:00 p.m. that evening. As he was about to check in his sister Emmaline's room, he heard a loud thump come from the living room. It was enough to make him jump, and although his mind told him to stay where he was, Hortense's natural curiosity got the best of him.
"F-f-father, have you fallen? Are you alright?" Hortense yelled as he made his way to the living room, stopping only when he saw his mother sitting at the table.
Hortense breathed a sigh of relief.
"Oh, thank goodness, Mother! I was beginning to worry when you didn't answer when I called. I'm sorry I'm late," he apologized as he put his hand on her shoulder.
Oddly enough, his hand felt something wet. When he pulled his hand away and examined it under the light, he was shocked to find that it was blood!
"Mother, are you all right? Your shoulder is covered in blood," Hortense said as he turned his mother to face him.
When he raised the light and looked at his mother, he came face to face with a grisly sight: Her throat had a long slash running from her cheekbone to her sternum and her abdomen was cut open. Blood stained the front of her dress. The worst part, though, were her eyes, wide open and full of terror.
Hortense let out a sort of strangled noise as his hand flew to his mouth. What kind of person or animal could have done this? He was going to inspect the wounds further when he heard a second thud come from the adjacent living room. He went in there only to discover his older brother Jesse, his body and limbs contorted at unnatural angles, and his father's headless corpse beside him. Hortense could barely keep himself from puking up his dinner.
"What on earth could have done this? What's going on? Am I alone in my own house with a killer?" he mused to himself.
"Wait, if Mother and Father and Jesse are all dead, that only leaves…" he thought to himself as the realization hit him.
"Emmaline," he said in a whisper.
Grabbing the lantern tighter in his hands, he raced into his sister's room.
She was the worst of all. She was nothing more than a mangled mess of bed sheets and innards; pure visceral carnage.
This time, Hortense felt no shame in heaving up his supper. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and crawled over to what used to be his sister. The only recognizable part of her was her hand, sticking out from under the sheets. He grasped her hand in his and was shocked at how it felt.
"Oh, Emmaline, you're so cold…but you feel alive!" he wailed as tears spilled down his face.
He heard a rustle from behind him and grabbed the lantern. He shined it all around the room, but found nothing.
"Oh, dear boy, don't you cry," said a soft voice from behind him.
Hortense turned to face the speaker. In the door of his sister's room stood a tall woman with blonde hair and icy blue eyes.
"W-w-who are you?" he asked.
"Do not be afraid of me. My name is Samantha," she replied as she walked towards Hortense.
Hortense instinctively moved away.
"D-d-did you do this?"
"Yes, I did this, my child, but do not fear me. It will all be over soon."
"W-what are you?" Hortense questioned, trying to stall.
"I am what they call a Lycan, or a werewolf. Soon, you will be too," Samantha declared as she moved closer still to Hortense.
Hortense scrunched as close to the wall as her could, desperate to avoid this woman. He patted the ground as he searched for something to defend himself with. Soon enough, his hands felt the smooth wood of his stickball club. He grasped it in his hand and held it in front of him.
"Stay b-b-back. I have a weapon," he declared with more bravado than he felt.
Samantha simply laughed a harsh and evil cackle, a stark contrast to her melodious and crystalline voice.
"You think that will stop me?" she taunted as she moved closer still.
Hortense raised the club as if to hit her, but before he quite knew what happened, the club flew out of his hand and Samantha snapped his arm. He howled in pain as fresh tears flooded his eyes. Samantha knelt over him and smiled darkly. She placed either of her hands on the ground and she was hovering over Hortense. What happened next was quite unexpected. She kissed him on the lips, and Hortense tried to push her away from him, but with only one good arm, he was powerless. Suddenly, her lips left his and his head was roughly pushed to the side, completely baring his neck.
Then Hortense experienced the worst pain of his life as Samantha bit him on the right side of the neck, right below his collarbone. He screamed as razor-sharp fangs bit into him. After what felt like an eternity she pulled away. Hortense reached up and felt the wound. It was sticky with blood. For a moment nothing happened, but soon, Hortense felt as if he had lava flowing through his veins instead of blood! His body burned as he writhed in the floor, moaning and gasping in pain. It became too much for him to bear, and the last thing he remembered before passing out was Samantha's smiling face, made all the more grotesque from the blood staining her cheeks.
When he awoke a day later, he was in an unfamiliar house in an unknown location. Samantha was again bent over him, this time holding a cool cloth to his forehead. He was now officially a Lycan.
For the next 100 years, Samantha became somewhat of a mentor to Hortense. She taught him everything there was about being a Lycan, from when and how to hunt and how to control his transformations, especially during the full moon. At first, he absolutely hated himself for what he had become, but over time, he came to embrace this new side of him. The only thing that really bothered him was the fact that he could no longer remember his human life, aside from the night he was turned. That night was the night that still haunted him to this day. It was the reason why he still woke screaming on occassion, drenched in sweat and his heart pounding.
In 1960, 100 years after Hortense had become a werewolf, Samantha was killed by an evil vampire with blond hair name Zander Markos. Hortense swore on Samantha's grave that he would one day destroy Zander Markos. Shortly thereafter, Hortense changed his name to Logan, in honor of his late father and permanently moved to Minneapolis. Since he was eternally stuck in the body of a 16 year-old, he abandoned his hope of becoming a doctor and instead took up singing. 51 short years later, he became a part of Big Time Rush.
When Logan finished his story, everyone in the room was staring at him with their eyes and mouths agape. He had never told that story to anyone. None of his friends knew that he had had to discover his entire family, slaughtered, or that his name was actually Hortense. They all tried to offer apologies for what had happened, but Logan waved it off, saying it was in the past and therefore didn't matter. After that, Logan politely excused himself and went to bed, citing mental fatigue from having to remember something from almost 135 years ago.
"Well guys, I know one thing's for sure: that's one story we'll never ask Logan to retell," Kendall decided as the others nodded.
The End