A/N: Hi! Omg, I got four reviews on chapter one! Yay! I'm so happy! Huge thank you to lilymn47, JustaBunchofNonsense, Hisokaminori, and vendo tacos! Your reviews made me smile! :) Also thank you to everyone who has favorited/followed this story so far! I appreciate it so much!
WARNING: There is CUTTING in this chapter! Not too much (well... description wise, anyways), but I still felt like I should warn you guys (mostly so I don't get yelled at, lol).
Logan's thoughts are in italics!
Enjoy chapter 2!
After School...
Logan P.O.V
I sighed as I limped into my room and slumped down onto my bed. My day had been absolutely terrible.
A while after the... incident this morning, I had (very) reluctantly gotten up and gone to class. I didn't want dad to get a phone call saying I had missed classes. I had only missed about an hour's worth of history, and when I got there I just told Mr. Frazier that I didn't feel well. He asked if I needed to go to the clinic, but I had refused in fear of them calling dad to pick me up.
Sadly, I had first through sixth period with Evan Odom. My fourth period classroom was upstairs, and halfway up the staircase, Evan shoved me back down it. I landed wrong on my right foot and twisted my ankle (owww!), so I had limped everywhere for the rest of the day.
Hesh hasn't noticed yet- mostly because I had rushed inside and locked myself in my room. But I knew damn well he was gonna notice later. I couldn't stay in my room all day. I was never really hungry anymore, but he always made me come out and sit with him anyways. He tries to encourage me to eat, but I've been so stressed out lately that eating just makes me nauseous.
Anyways, the rest of my day was the usual routine- name calling, being shoved into walls and lockers, given notes that told me to kill myself.
...Believe me, I've thought of it.
I rolled up my sleeve and looked at the thin scars that marred the skin there. Some of them were months old, while others were made just a few days ago.
Dad had given me a really sharp pocket knife a few years ago, and every once in a while I'd cut myself. Well, now I did it a lot more often than I had in the past. I cut myself almost every night now. I'm not sure why, but it makes me feel better. It helps relieve my stress (and I had a ton of it) when nothing else does.
Just thinking about it made me want to do it. Looking at my cuts made me want to make more of them. I sat up as carefully as I could manage, wincing when my efforts didn't help anything.
My ankle was still throbbing with pain- probably because I had walked on it a bunch after I hurt it. So I tried not to put any weight on it as I hobbled over to my dresser. I put a hand on it to steady myself and opened the top drawer, reaching all the way to the back and pulling my knife out.
I had just sat down and opened it when Hesh knocked on my door. I jumped about six feet off the floor- the movement sending waves of pain throughout my body. I bit my lip so hard it bled to hold back a cry.
"Logan? You okay in there?" Hesh asked.
I could hear the worry in his voice. It made me feel guilty for hiding all of this from him... But it's not like he could help anyways.
"I'm fine..." I replied, somewhat hoarsely.
Even with a door between us, I could tell he wasn't convinced.
"You sure? You sound sick..." He pressed.
"Yeah, Hesh. I'm fine."
There was a beat of silence, then a sigh.
"...Alright. I made dinner, so come out here and eat."
The thought of eating made me want to puke.
"Okay..." I replied quietly.
I listened as his footsteps receded, breathing out a sigh of relief when they were gone. If my door hadn't been locked, I would've been caught.
That was so close...
I quickly put my knife away and unlocked my door, making sure my sleeves were pulled down over my wrists before leaving the room. I didn't even bother trying to hide my limp as I carefully made my way to the table.
As expected, Hesh noticed almost immediately.
He frowned and said, "Logan, what's wrong with your foot?"
"I twisted my ankle on my way to class." I said, pushing my chicken Alfredo around the plate with my fork.
He stopped eating and raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"How did you manage to do that?"
I felt like I was going to be sick.
"My foot... landed wrong as I was going up the stairs." I mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.
He gave me a hard look, as if he knew I was lying.
It made me want to die.
After a few moments, he asked, "When did this happen?"
"On my way to fourth period."
"So you've been walking around with a hurt leg all day? Damn it, Logan, you probably made it worse. You should've gone to the nurse and called dad to pick you up..." He scowled, walking over to the freezer and pulling the ice tray out.
"I'm sorry..." I said quietly, staring down at the floor.
"Just..." He sighed, dumping a bunch of ice into a bag, "Eat your dinner and keep this ice on your leg. And try to keep it elevated. And don't-"
"I know, I know. Don't put any weight on it." I interrupted, reluctantly eating a bit of food.
"Mhmmm, that's right. Here, let me see." He said, setting the bag of ice on the table and patting his leg.
I wordlessly put my foot in his lap, watching as he carefully removed my sock and examined my ankle. He poked and prodded in a few places, asking where it hurt most and then comparing it to my other foot.
After several minutes of this, he came to a conclusion.
"It looks like you've just badly sprained it. You can tell from the bruising and swelling." He said, pointing them out.
I nodded and he continued.
"It's definitely not broken- all the bones are in the proper position and you don't seem to be in too much pain. I'll wrap it, then I want you to keep it elevated and iced. The swelling should go down after a while. But I don't want you walking on it, so you're staying home tomorrow."
I was so relieved I wanted to cry.
"O-okay... Is dad coming home tonight?"
"He said he was, but I get the feeling he'll be late." He explained, carefully wrapping a bandage around my leg.
I nodded. That was nothing new. Dad almost never came home on time- at first it had been disappointing, but now we were both used to it. I tried to finish my dinner, but I wasn't really hungry. I hurt all over. I was tired and I just wanted to sleep.
"Alright," Hesh said, placing my foot on the chair next to me and setting the bag of ice on top of it. "All done. But for God's sake, try not to walk on it."
"Okay..." I replied quietly.
I had only eaten a bit over half of my plate. Hesh glanced at it and sighed, but didn't complain. I guess he was glad I had eaten at all tonight.
After dinner was over, I said goodnight to Hesh and hobbled back to my room. I lowered myself onto the floor by my dresser and once again pulled my knife from the top drawer. I opened it and tugged my sleeves down.
I made lots of cuts that night.
Blood rushed to the surface and escaped, rolling down my arms in small streams. I cut while thinking about Evan- about how he had hurt me and said all those hateful (...yet true) things to me.
I imagined all my stress and worries leaving me, being drained from my body along with the blood that flowed from the cuts.
I sat there for a long time, cutting and thinking, thinking and cutting.
A/N: I know nothing much happened in this chapter, but trust me when I say- a TON of things are happening in chapter three. So... we'll call this chapter the calm before the storm.
I'll try to update again soon! Please leave me a review! I love reviews! Thanks for reading! :D