Chapter 1
Emotional break
It was cliché, to sit brooding, looking off into the distance like a forlorn widow but he couldn't find the strength or the desire to move. His legs were dead weight and his chest felt sunken and his insides felt hard. He could smell her coming before she even got the notion. He could hear her delicate gait and the swish swash of her long hair. The beer in her hand was a surprise and a welcomed one. She cocked her head to the side, a woman's universal question. Her eyes half mast and her lips pursed in inquiry. He didn't say she could stay but he didn't turn her away either. She leaned on the damp wooden railing adjacent to him, listening to the uneven pitter patter of rain that had long ago lost its urgency. He didn't have to look at her to know she'd be beautiful. She was always beautiful. Like a porcelain doll. The kind you sit on a shelf and never touch again. She extended her hand, a bottle without a cap, slightly chilled and sweating in her grip. She offered it for a few seconds and when he didn't move she shrugged and set it on the wooden railing and breathed out hard. The silence wore on, the kind of silence that would have been uncomfortable had it not been for the rains distraction and the churn of hot rum in his gut. He could feel her staring at him in her peripheral, sizing him up. Eventually she left but she left the now luke-warm beer behind. Her scent lingered several minutes after she was gone. He stood, stretching slightly to relieve the tension in his chest but it remained. Sleep would help, at least he thought it would. He walked in the scanty boathouse made of imperfect wood. The place was a mess and the smell of unwashed dishes and rotting was almost tangible. Kicking off his shoes at the door he ascended the squeaky stairs and with a long stride entered his room that didn't smell any better. He removed his shirt and let it fall to the floor. He could smell himself but taking a shower seemed like too much work, to much effort and he couldn't for the life of him find a reason why showering was even necessary. Bending slowly at the knee like an old man on the verge of his last days he sat on the edge of the bed and held his heavy head in his hands. He muttered to himself softly and slowly, speaking out loud only the ends of his thoughts which were inconsistent, and grim. His cell buzzed in his jeans and it took him awhile to fish it out.
"Yeah…"
"What are you doing?"
"On my way to bed."
"Okay, isn't it early?"
"I'm tired."
"Okay."
"Okay."
With an abrupt clack the phone folded closed and the call was disconnected. He adjusted himself on the bed and closed his eyes, covering them with his forearm. It was half the night gone before he finally drifted into sleep.
He awoke to find the sun high in the sky and his sheets wrapped annoyingly around his legs. His alarm was screaming and it had been for hours. With a limp hand he slapped at the noisy object until it was quiet and in pieces. His cell buzzed and he felt around the nightstand until he found and flicked it open with his thumb.
"Yeah…"
"What are you doing?"
"Just woke up."
"Scott's gonna be mad. You had a session today."
"Yeah…"
"Logan?"
"Yeah?"
"Talk to you later ok?"
"Yeah."
An emotional break. The professor had said it was an emotional break. He wasn't sure exactly what that meant or if those words were supposed to lead him to some sort of personal discovery. It was strange, he had prepared for this from the very start, yet in a since he wasn't prepared at all. This was supposed to be different; maybe he had thought this moment would be something more mind shattering, something surreal wrapped in realizations, epiphanies and hope for the future. Maybe he was now reeling from the disappointment. No realizations, no epiphanies or hope for to future, just a mind numbing feeling of displacement.
He couldn't really say he had tried his best. He had put forth more effort than he was use too but still, it wasn't his best. Some would say that honesty was the answer, withholding is what caused this sudden emotional slip but that wasn't the truth. The truth would have crushed things before they even began. The truth would have deprived him of the little he had. The little he could hold on to.
He was removed from the duty roster. Secluded from the team and separated from the fight but oddly enough his usual over whelming need to release his animal had died away. He couldn't feel it anymore, couldn't feel the animal nipping at his resolve and bucking to break free. Maybe he had lost it, maybe it had fallen away. The odds of that were unlikely so he resolved it to the beast being at rest. He knew it wouldn't rest for long, it never did.
He was tired although he had slept most the day and once awake had sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours. He sat in a haze and when the thought struck him that he should move and do something with the day he'd just quietly slip back into his murky thoughts. His guts still felt strung tight and his head throbbed. The sound of a loud rapping at the door was what finally broke the trance. His knees popped when he stood and the trek to the front door seemed long and dizzying. He opened the door and a familiar face grimaced from a combination of the smell and the tired angry eyes that stared at him.
"What?"
"You missed the session today."
"I'll be at the next one."
"That's not a good excuse Logan."
"It's not an excuse; I'll be at the next one. Let me be." He said and then maneuvered to shut the door. Scott quickly shoved his foot in the way and a slightly startled Logan peered at him.
"Move."
"What?"
"I said move so I can come in."
"This is my house Scott. I ain't letting you in." He said. They stood staring at each other. Squinting.
"Move."
"What the fuck Scott. I said no. Get outta of here."
"Move or I'll just blast you and the door out of my way."
"No you won't." Logan squinted even harder. Sizing the man up but long ago Logan found that since he couldn't see the windows to the young mans soul and he kept his mouth in a tight no nonsense line it was near impossible to gauge Scott's true intentions. Tired of the game Logan relented. He stepped to the side and with an arrogant gait Scott walked inside and immediately blanched. He brought his hand to his nose and rubbed his stinging eyes.
"How can you live like this?"
"Just shut-up." Logan said in a tired voice. Shoving old beer cans off the couch he sat. He stared at the TV but made no motion to turn it on. Scott took a look around, letting his eyes roam over the garbage and visible stench. He swatted at a fly and it buzzed away to join the others around something rotting in the corner of the hobble.
"Jesus…" Scott muttered. Logan's cell buzzed and he realized it was warm and sweaty in his grip and he wondered whether he had been holding it since the last call. He flipped it open.
"Yeah…"
"What are you doing?"
"Sitting…"
"Logan."
"Yeah?"
"I'm concerned…about you."
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah…okay."
"Talk to me"
"I am, I'm talking to you."
"Your humoring me, you're not talking to me"
"What do you want me to say?"
"That you're alright."
"I'm alright."
"I think your lying." The voice on the line said and Logan fell silent.
"I've got company. I've gotta go."
"Who's there?"
"Scott."
"Oh. Can I talk to him?"
"No." and with that he hung up. It wasn't long until Scott's cell hummed and clicked some beat he didn't know and Logan just scoffed.
"Hello? Who is this? Heather?" Scott's eyes fell on the back of Logan's head. How this woman had gotten his number he wasn't sure but he put 2 and 2 together and realized that this was whoever Logan was speaking to on the phone just moments earlier. She spoke and he listened and somewhere in the middle of the call he meandered over to the rotting thing in the corner.
"Okay." He said flipping the phone closed.
"That was Heather." Scott said.
"I heard."
"She's really concerned. She sounded like she was about to cry." Scott said and Logan didn't react.
"She said something…terrible was about to happen to you."
"Something terrible." Logan breathed.
"What's going on Logan?"
"I'm not sure. I feel strange." Logan offered and his candid answer struck Scott as curious.
"Maybe you should come to the mansion."
"No, I'm fine where I am." Logan said and silence fell between them.
"What did you kill Logan?"
"What?"
"What did you kill?"
"I'm not sure. It's been there for awhile."
"Logan, you can either come to the mansion or I'm gonna have to take you there by force." Scott said taking his eyes off of the decaying carcass in the corner. He couldn't tell exactly what the carcass was. All he knew was that it was in several pieces and sliced and bit so horrendously and he hadn't yet found the head of the thing.
"What's gonna happen to me there?"
"The professor wants to talk to you."
"And…"
"I think you should see Beast."
"No tests…"
"Alright, I'll tell him no tests. Just talking." Scott said and to his surprise Logan stood and made his way to the door.