The rain smashed against the window and tried to break through the tough glasses splintering cracks and screams. But the walls of the room that held him held firmly, but barely, as the lightning screeched through the walls, baracading him in a frightening embrace. The darkness closed in, but the little light which he kept on forced the outside demons away, but the inner demons drew closer as he cried out in anguish.
Logan raised his hand, a little ray of light from his bedside lamp reflecting off the silver piece of metal he held so tightly in his fist. Tears streamed down his face as he made a quick downward slash, blood instantaniously spilling out of the fresh gash in his wrist. He winced, gritting his teeth against the pain, but after a few moments he began to calm down. Pain is good. He told himself. Pain is good.
The rain roared outside, smacking and beating against his windows, his walls, his safety. It was as if it was after him, clawing at his doorstep, waiting to grab him in it's clutches and drag him straight down to Hell.
Logan slashed at his wrist again, watching the blood slowly bubble to the surface, then quickly spilling out over his white skin, turning it dark red in an instant. All he did was watch with tear stained eyes, watch as a piece of himself broke free, went wherever it pleased. He watched as his pain started to drip out of his body, as if it were a cleansing of some kind, and spill out onto the carpet. He still clutched the trustworthy piece of metal in his hand, refusing to even think of the notion of putting it down. The tighter he gripped it, the deeper he felt it dig into his own skin, calmed him down slightly. But just slightly.
He sobbed to himself as he watched the blood flow freely from the gashes he made in his arm. The blood streamed over hundreds and hundreds of other cuts and scars, hundreds and hundreds of horrifying memories and dark stories, hundreds and hundreds of nights just like this one.
At this point, Logan was completely ignoring the spattering rain calling his name outside. He was completely oblivious to everything around him. All he could focus on was himself and the actions he was taking upon himself. This little razor, his little friend, was his key to unlock happiness. It was his ticket to Heaven, his life saving companion.
This was all Logan had known for the last 3 years. He kept it hidden, his own little secret, a dirty little secret. Everything went wrong in his life, everything was always crashing down around him, piling on him guilt, pain, worries, troubles; it was as if life wouldn't give up on throwing horrific things at him. So, Logan coped the best way he could: by harming his own skin.
He could never let anyone find out, not even Kendall, James, or Carlos. If word ever got out, if this kind of thing ever hit the media, all hell would break loose. Of course, Logan knew other celebrities harmed themselves, but how would it look to everyone if Logan Mitchell, 1/4 of Big Time Rush, a role model, was cutting himself? Not only that, but he would be ridiculed. What could a celebrity like Logan possibly be going through that was painful enough for him to take his anger out on himself? He had everything. People would think he was selfish, only cared about himself. Attention seeking. Something he's heard a billion times before about others like him. Plus, he wanted this to stay to himself, to keep it as close to him as possible, lock it away inside of himself, because if anyone found out, they'd try to take his best friend away from him, gone forever.
And then what would happen?
Logan couldn't even think about what would happen if someone would happen to take his razors away. He'd be lost, lost without his constant companion of the last three years, lost without the one thing that could actually make him feel something. He looked down at all the blood, looked down at his soul dripping out of him, and he was suddenly filled with a sense of fear. What if someone did find out? What would happen? What would everyone's reactions be? They'd put hiom away, lock him up in some mental ward somewhere, where he would be judged as a "freak" and a "mutant". Nobody would talk to him. Or touch him. Or even go near him. People would think it would be something contagious or hypocritical, they'd be scared of him. So he kept his secret hidden behind long sleeves, bracelets, and a fake smile that would fool anybody.
Logan didn't bother to clean up or even stop the blood. For a while, he just sat there, leaning calmly against the bed frame, where just minutes ago he had been a huddled mass on the floor, crying out for help. The rain had calmed itself, knowing the demons had claimed yet another victim for the night. Depression was dark, demonic, and full of revenge and evil. And Logan was it's prey.
Logan closed his eyes and tried to envision a time when he was happy, tried to remember a time when pain was just falling down on the playground or falling off of your bike, but no matter how hard he tried to remember those happy times, when life actually mattered to him, his past was blocked out, the happy images banned from his memory, by the awful thoughts and memories of the razor.
After a while, Logan finally found the will and strength to move. At first, he couldn't bring himself to do it, all he could do was stare at his own blood, hypnotized by it's scarlet beauty. He raised his fingers and gently touched his arm, the cool red liquid feeling warm and inviting on his fingertips. He gently brushed his fingers against his lips, the feeling of it on his face calming him somewhat. He did this to himself, he damaged his own body, and it all sank in slowly as he stood up and headed towards the bathroom to bandage himself up.
As he approached the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Stupid face, stupid hair, stupid eyes, stupid...everything! He didn't understand what girls saw in him, what all his fans saw that made them fall in love with him. Probably nothing, he thought, they are probably all faking it. That has to be it. Everyone was probably just faking it, they probably all felt sorry for him for being the least attractive and most unpopular member of the band. Logan's face furrowed into anger and he slammed his fist on the mirror, almost shattering it to pieces.
Avoiding his reflection, Logan ran his arm under the water in the sink, watching as it turned from crystal clear to dark red, all his troubles literally going down the drain. With his free hand he reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out the gauze. He had become a pro at this, he didn't even have to think about it at all, anymore.
This was a procedure he had down thousands of times before. He dried his wounds, then gently, but quickly, bandaged them up, wrapped them tightly in a warm blanket, cleaned the sink and put all his supplies away, and as he took a good look around to make sure he didn't forget anything, took a good look around to make sure he didn't forget anything, and it was as if nothing ever happened.
Logan couldn't help it, he just couldn't hold it any longer, he had to look at himself. He turned to the full length body mirror in the room he and James shared. It was times like these that he hated sharing a room with James, all the mirrors everywhere, all the constant reminders that he was as ugly and fat as everyone said he was.
He looked himself over, from head to toe, and clenched his hands into fists. Oh, how he wanted to break those mirrors, to smash each one of them into a million pieces, to smash every mirror into a million pieces so that he would never have to look at himself ever again. Without thinking, he pulled up both of his sleeves and looked at his arms. Cuts, scars, they all covered his arms from his wrists to his elbows. He reached down and pulled each of his pant legs up, revealing hundreds of cuts on each leg. He lifted his shirt and looked at the cuts on his abdomen. He rarely cut there, and the scars were very much faded, but better to be safe than sorry. he couldn't remember the last time he wore a short sleeve shirt or tank top. He longed for a day where he could wear a tank top again, and made himself even more depressed than he was just thinking about how never again would he be able to live a normal life.
But since when was his life ever normal?
He breathed a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he ever smiled, and actually meant it. He's been this way for so long it was almost impossible to even remember a brief moment when his life actually meant something to him. To everyone else, to his fans, his family and friends, even Kendall, James, and Carlos, he slapped on a fake grin and put on a show. On the outside, he was the picture perfect child that anyone would want to have. Smart, talented, happy. Logan scoffed at himself. THat wasn't really him at all. He was a monster. A ruined state. Depressed. Sheltered. Alone.
A cutter.
Absentmiondedly, Logan began to trace the cuts on his arm. He couldn't remember when he was actually happy, but he remembered the dark moments, remembered each event that led up to each fateful cut.
Time and time again he made sure to count each one of his cuts and scars and remember the incident that led up to it, a constant reminder to himself that he was and always will be a monster.
A monster. That's exactly what you are. A monster.
"Logan! Are you coming down to eat?" Mrs. Knight's voice startled him. "Are you ok, you've been up there for quite some time. Do you need me to send the guys up to help you?"
Logan's eyes grew wide and he froze for a moment, panicking on the inside. He quickly rolled down his sleeves, used his mask to cover the darkness that lied underneath. "No, no, I'm ok, I'm ok! Just, uh, just...I'll be down in a minute."
Logan took a deep breath and averted his gaze from what stared back at him in the mirror. He never wanted to look at that hideous face again, never wanted to look at the repulsive animal that stared him back in the eyes whenever he looked at his reflection. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sight, then turned and went downstairs, plastering on a smile that said everything was alright.
"Hey, you were up there a while. You alright?" James asked, sitting down at the table. Logan rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and gave a small laugh.
"Yeah, I, uh, just not feeling well." Logan never really had been good at lying, but apparently he was good enough to fool them. He had been convincing everyone that he was fine for over 3 years, and as long as he had everything under control, he'd be alright.
Maybe.
Logan took the chair next to James and tucked his left arm underneath the table, holding it close to his body. He stared down at his plate, unmoving, as everyone else sat around him, even sitting feet away making him uncomfortable. He felt as if any minute someone was going to rip his sleeve up and he'd be exposed. He watched as everyone inched closer and closer, the feeling of everyone gathering around him sending anxiousness up his spine and making his arms feel like they're burning...
"Logan, you ok? You gonna eat?" Kendall said, snapping his fingers. "Dude, seriously wake up. You're so out of it today, you alright?"
Logan snapped out of his daydream and looked around. He was imagining it all, nobody was out to get him. Everyone was just sitting around the table as Mrs. Knight put food out on the table. Logan sat there and watched as they all happily reached for spaghetti and garlic bread, and absentmindedly rubbed his wrist, the scars puffing up just enough for him to feel the roughness of his past. As he touched each scar, he could almost see the moment when he made the cut that cuased it, like his mind took him back to the past and he could do nothing as he watched the scene playover in his head, the scarlet redness of his blood filling his vision, finishing off with the silver gleam of his small, shiny blade...
"Logan, sweetie, aren't you going to eat?" Mrs. Knight asked as she sat down. Logan looked up and realized everyone else had already started eating, while his plate remained empty. Everyone was now staring at him, his arms beginning to burn as he pulled them close to his sides, away from everyone's wandering eyes.
"Logan, if you aren't feeling good we can call the doctor. Just golie down and get some rest if you want."
Logan, after several silent moments, shook his head, nervously. "No, no, I'm, i'm alright. Just, uh, just, you know, little headache, that's all. I'll uh, take some uh, tylenol later."
Logan lied right through his teeth as he grabbed some food, to settle the nerves of everyone else. Despite his own stomach, and how much this food made him want to vomit right now, he shoveled it into his mouth and pretended like he was enjoying it to satisfy everyone else. Logan had lost his appetite long ago, now the sight of food made him sick to his stomach. Ever since he discovered how a small metal blade could really make him feel, everything else seemed useless.
"So how was you boys' day?" Mrs. Knight asked. The other guys began going on about their day and how much fun they had on their day off.
"We were at the pool all day. It was amazing to finally have a day to relax and keep to ourselves." Kendall replied. James grinned.
"New chicks at the Palm Woods. You could say I had fun people watching." Katie shook her head at him, James laughing at her disapproval.
"You degrade yourself, and others." Katie said between chews.
"Yeah, but I have a fun time doing it." James replied. Katie rolled her eyes.
"Me and Alexa hung out today." Carlos said, a grin pushing through to his face, his cheeks getting red. "She's incredible, she makes me so happy."
Logan sighed. He wished he could have fun and relaxation time like Kendall, have confidence like James, and have someone who truly loved him like Carlos and Alexa. But sadly, as he looked at himself every day in the mirror, he knew that nobody would love someone as disgusting, uncaring, monsterous and as scarred as he was.
"And you, Logan? How was your day?" Mrs. Knight asked. Logan began to panic as all eyes turned to him. He looked up at them, just enough to see their curious stares. He began to tremble, nervously pulling at his sleeves as he felt their eyes drinking up the sight of him, waiting for an answer.
"Fine." He finally answered, finally taking a bite of food, not even looking at them. He stared down at his lap, his eyes focused on his sleeve. His fingers gripped the edge so tight he thought he'd rip the fabric apart.
"You don't look so good." Mrs. Knight said. Logan's heart beat faster and faster in his chest as she got up and walked towards him. Mrs. Knight leaned over him, caressing his face to look into his eyes. Deep within them, deep within his wretched soul, there was darkness, madness, pain, no desire for living at all, but it took him all his might to mask it, push it deep down within himself so nobody could see the true colors he hid within his past.
"Stop, no, it's, it's ok, I'm fine. Just a little overworked I guess." LOgan said as she touched his face. The touch of others made him cringe, created a burning sensation in his skin. ALmost as bad as the feeling that was on his arms.
Mrs. Knight pulled back and gave him a sorrowful look. "Maybe you should take off tomorrow," she began. "Stay home and get some rest. It might do you good."
Logan stared down at his plate, unmoving, unlooking. "Yeah, maybe." He muttered to himself.
Only one thing can do me good right now.
Logan nervously tugged at his sleeves. His cuts rubbed against the bandage, seemingly calling out his name, aching for just one more slice, one more cut to ease the feeling of anxiety that kept building up inside of him. He wanted the bite of the metal more than anything at that moment, and the feeling of the fresh cuts on his wrist made the urge even harder to resist.
"Logan, you seriously look like you're about to cry. Are you ok, dude?" CArlos asked. Logan looked up at them and realized they were all looking at him. He felt his cheek and felt a tear drop gently run across his fingers and roll down his palm. He started to panic, feeling he had just been caught.
"Logan...do you want to talk about something?" Kendall asked, his expression fading from happy to increasingly worried.
"NO!" He said, panicked. He quickly wiped the tear away and put on one of his best happy faces he could possibly muster. "Sorry, sorry about that. Now, what were we talking about again? So, Carlos, what did you and Alexa do today?"
Carlos grinned and began going on and on about all the things he and his girlfriend had done, steering the conversation away from Logan. And Logan sat there, forcing food down his throat, pretending to be listening, pretending to be ok, when really he was lost. Lost in thought, lost in his mind, lost in his place,
lost in this world.