A/N: I have no idea where this came from, but I lik it so...
Disclaimer: I, in no way, own Big Time Rush
This was it. This is the last resort.
After years of cutting, burning, and other various ways of causing myself pain, I was done.
This was the end.
Nobody was home so it was the perfect opportunity. I held the razor to my forearm, pressing on the vein lightly, drawing blood.
I took the envelope with my note to my friends and put it down next to me. I stated at said envelope as I thought.
I had to do this. It was the only way to make it all end. In my note it explained everything. My reasons, what I've been going through, and of course I said sorry.
I'm so sorry for doing this, but it had to be done. I couldn't take it anymore. All the hate and ridicule. People can be so cruel. And the worst part is that you-James, Carlos, and Kendall-you guys knew. But you did nothing to stop it. I bet none of this would've ever happened if I wasn't gay. My dad wouldn't hate me, people would actually treat me nicely, you guys would care. But no. So this is the end. You guys don't even know how hard I took everything that was said. It was all awful to me.
I've done so much over the years, probably since I was 14. I've cut myself. If you don't believe me, check my hips, thighs, and stomach. But don't say I didn't warn you. There are a lot of them. And those burns? Those weren't accidents. I've done all this, but this is the last resort. This is the only thing that can completely stop all the pain.
I hope you guys are happy when I'm gone. I won't be there to hold you back anymore. You don't have to go around embarrassed with your gay friend at your side. I bet you didn't even want to be my friend. You will probably be much happier now.
I'll seen you soon enough.
-Logan
That was my note. I thought it was good enough to get my point across to them and explain myself.
With a deep breath, I took the blade and pressed harder, dragging it across my skin and tearing the flesh. Blood started running out and I watched with a smile as it dripped on the bed.
I repeated this action several times, many deep gashes on my arm. I was sitting in a puddle of my own blood, but kept going, getting weaker and weaker. My vision was getting fuzzy, and I smiled knowing that this was the end. I went for another cut, but found myself too weak.
I was breathing heavily and my vision was getting worse and worse. Before I knew it, my vision was all black and I took one final breath.
And that was it. I Logan Mitchell was dead, on my bed, in a puddle of my own blood, psychotic smile on my face.
A/N: So that's it. I know it's short, but everything I write is short, since I have not the best attention span. So, tell me wacha think. I'm leaving this marked as in progress for now. You guys tell me if you want me to add another chapter or two about them finding Logan and all the stuff that happens after. Please review and tell me if you want that.