Hey, everybody! I am oboe buddy, and this is my BTR story :) Sorry if it's a bit rushed, but I wanted to fit in as much as possible. Anywayz... I don't own BTR. I wish I did, but I don't. I own nothing... except my love for Logan. Muahaha. So... I hope you like it! And pleeeaaassse review!

"SILENCE!!!" The voice of Gustavo Rocque ripped through the conversations to be had between the boys of Big Time Rush. Four pairs of eyes immediately met his own, and, satisfied with this response, Gustavo continued to talk.

"Now," He cleared his throat for impact, "As you may, or most likely, may not know, ASPA requires each student to have a C or higher average on his or her report card in order to remain in the business of singing, dancing, and/or acting." With this, he made eye contact with each and every one of the boys, glaring the whole time.

"You," he spat, directing his gaze at Kendal, "Have a D in English! And you," He pointed his finger at Carlos' chest, "Have a D minus in science!!" He was getting angrier with each person, and poked James hard in the forehead.

"D in math!!" He was practically screaming now. Clearly this did not make him happy.

"AND FINALLY,YOU," He continued his glare to Logan. The other three boys nearly laughed; as if Logan would have anything below an A+. They leaned forward as they prepared to see Gustavo's face when he realized his mistake, "ARE FAILING HISTORY!!!!"

As the other three members of Big Time Rush stared at him with their eyes wide in shock, Logan dropped his head so that his chin was touching his chest. But Gustavo didn't skip a beat.

"THEREFORE!!" He continued yelling, "YOU WILL NOT BE RECORDING ANYTHING UNTIL YOU MORONS ARE UP TO WHERE YOU SHOULD BE!!!"

At this, Kelly quickly stepped in, placing herself between the raging man and the four boys.

"Basically," she explained as calmly as she could, "You're going to be having a tutor when you would generally be doing… well, stuff like this!" She gave a fake smile, which was returned by four horrified expressions.

"Anyways…" She continued, gesturing towards the door, "This is Mr. Mitchell, your new tutor!"

A tall, dark-haired man entered as she finished her sentence. To Carlos, James, and Kendal, he was just another tutor. But to Logan, seeing the man in the doorway was like sticking a knife through his shoulder. After the move to Minnesota, there was never supposed to be any contact. Ever.

"Hey, guys!" His tone sounded cool and laid-back, like the teacher every kid wanted to have. The other three boys gave gestures of acknowledgement, but Logan sat stone still. He saw right through the act, "I'm Mr. Mitchell. Hopefully, you won't need me for too long. I mean, who wants more school than absolutely necessary, right?" There were a few short laughs, and the man's grin never faltered.

'So nobody else finds this guy creepy?' Logan just wanted to leave the room as soon as possible.

"So, I will have private sessions with each of you, seeing as you all need work in different areas," Mr. Mitchell talked like it was actually going to be fun, "Starting with… Logan Mitchell. Huh, funny… we have the same last name! That has to count for something good!" Instead of a verbal response, Logan merely shrugged. Making eye contact with his tutor, Logan saw a gleam in his eyes. It was almost unnoticeable, but there nonetheless.

That same gleam was the reason this was the first time he'd seen his father in four years; the reason for every nightmare he'd ever had.

********

"So," Mr. Mitchell began once they entered the tutoring room, "How've you been these past years?" He sounded like he was actually a nice guy. But Logan knew better.

"Better. Seeing as life sucked with you in it." He had finally left, and now… he was back.

Mr. Mitchell's expression changed immediately to rage. He pulled back his fist, and punched Logan hard in the stomach. Logan's breath left him as he bent over, memories of the first twelve years of his life coming back.

"You need to learn some respect!!!!!" Surely somebody would hear the screaming; Mr. Mitchell was so loud, "Obviously you need to be taught some manners! History can wait."

With that, he grabbed Logan's shirt, and threw him into the wall. His head smacked against it, and for a moment, everything spun. Mr. Mitchell continued punching and kicking, or throwing his son into the wall. That is, if you could call Mr. Mitchell a 'father'.

"You…little…BRAT!!!" He exaggerated each word with another blow to Logan's stomach, "I… come….to….see….my…son…and…this…is…what…I….get?!?!?!?!"

Logan could have sworn he heard a rib crack, and wondered how he was going to hide this from his friends. It had been easy when he had lived in Colorado, but in Colorado, he had no friends. Now, he had three of the best friends in the world, and they were sharing an apartment. Sure, his dad was always careful not to hit him in the face, but would that really matter?

"You were never a father to me," Logan spoke with as much hatred in his voice as he possibly could.

"So, that's what you think, is it?" The intense attacking suddenly halted.

'Is it possible I actually got through to him?' Logan was hoping beyond what he knew was reasonable for that.

But soon his hopes were dashed, as a wicked grin took over Mr. Mitchell's face.

"I'm going to make you see how kind I've been to you, and you'll see how wrong you are about me!" Logan knew that couldn't be good. If that man was anything, it was not kind.

Mr. Mitchell produced a vial from his pocket, and his grin grew even wider seeing the fear on Logan's face. He quickly plunged the needle into the boy's arm, injecting the liquid into his bloodstream.

"Now, I realized I couldn't have you get yourself sent to the emergency room," The man spoke as if they were discussing a beautiful sunset, "So it's just a small dose. But it will make you wish you were getting hit with a baseball bat instead."

Logan glared but said nothing, for no reason other than because he could hardly breathe. But if he had a choice, he would have yelled non-stop, no matter what happened to him. Mr. Mitchell, obviously satisfied with his work, spun on his heel and took a seat at his desk.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, your friend… James will be here in about five minutes, and your session is up. I'll see you tomorrow… assuming you can actually get here." He gave a wicked smile, dismissing Logan with a wave of his hand, like they had just been having a normal history lesson.

"Oh, and I'm sure you still remember the rules?" Of course Logan still remembered the rules. Anybody he told would be killed; and if he told the police, everybody he was close to would die before his father was caught. And if he tried to run, the latter would still happen. There was no escape.

Logan nodded, and managed to push himself up from the floor, and slowly but painfully got to his feet just as the door swung open, revealing his questionably wet friend James.

"Hey, you missed it!!" He shouted excitedly, "The Jennifers pushed me, Carlos, and Kendal into the pool! I think they like us!" His face was lit up in quite possibly the largest grin ever created by mankind.

'Just let him live in his bizarre illusion,' Logan thought, forcing a smile on his face.

"Yeah, they're totally in to you guys. Um, I gotta go, but have fun math." With that, he moved as quickly as he could out the door, shutting it behind him. Making a beeline for the apartment, he struggled not to fall over.

Walking through the hallways, Logan wasn't really aware of anything that happened around him. He had no idea if anybody called his name, or if he passed any of his friends. In fact, he barely even noticed when Gustavo nearly crashed into him.

"Hey, watch where you're going!" he shouted, clearly annoyed, "Just because you're not under my control for the time being doesn't mean you can ignore me!"

"Sorry, Gustavo. I'll pay more attention." Logan mumbled quietly, stepping around the man to the elevator.

"Yes, you will. Now, get out my sight!"

But Logan didn't hear him. He was too focused on willing the elevator to come faster. Whatever Mr. Mitchell had given him, it was working fast. His head had begun to pound, and he was barely suppressing a coughing fit, which he knew would be painful once it came, thanks to all the blows his ribs had landed.

Finally, the little 'ding' signified the elevator's arrival, and he entered it gratefully, watching the doors close shut. As soon as it reached the right floor, he rushed out, trying to find his apartment. After what seemed like forever, he was fumbling the key into the lock, and pushing the door open.

He barely made it to the couch before he passed out.

So, that is that! You like? Find it creepy? Anything? You can tell me by clicking that little green button.....