Guys, I had a whole other chapter written for this, and hated it. So here's this one.

It had been two years since Logan's mom had first hit him, and now he was in fifth grade, barely hanging on. Home was pretty much hell, his mom was bored with "conventional" methods of hurting him and had moved on to some pretty scary stuff. Even when she left him alone, she was battering on him emotionally, whether she was out drinking herself stupid or home with yet another man, Logan couldn't take it. School was the only place he could get away to, but it was still awful. There were just some things you couldn't keep secret.

"Logan, are you okay?" Carlos asked innocently after class one day, and, immediately, three sets of eyes pounced on him. Logan winced as Kendall, James and Carlos all fought to get close to him and examine the darkening bruise under his left eye. Kendall won and stood in front of him, fingering the side of his face gently, but Logan still hissed in pain. He batted the blonde's hand away.

"I just fell down the stairs," he lied, earning a skeptical look from each of his friends. It was the same eyebrow raise they gave him when he wore the same torn, dirty shirt three days in a row because "it was his favorite", or when he didn't bring a gift to their birthday party because he "forgot" or "didn't know what to get them". It was that same disbelieving stare they gave him when his mom didn't come to conferences, or pageants, or school fairs because he was "busy" or Logan "didn't tell her". He squirmed.

"Loge," Kendall started, looking at him comfortingly, "you know you can tell us anything, right?" he asked, only ten, but still observant enough to realize that Logan hadn't been telling them something. Logan gave them his best confused, happy smile.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, toying with the hem of his dingy, long sleeved white t-shirt. It didn't matter if it was one hundred degrees outside, Logan always wore long sleeves. Too many scars and injuries would be exposed without them. He gave them a crooked grin, trying to fool them into thinking nothing was wrong, but Kendall wasn't going to have it this time. He had known Logan for too long to think everything was fine anymore.

"Because it seems like you're hiding something. Why won't you tell us what's wrong?" the blonde asked, hoping Logan would finally open up. Of course he didn't.

"Nothing's wrong, everything's fine! Why would you think that anything isn't?" he questioned, an eyebrow arched. See, Logan was pretty good at hiding things, but he was an even better liar. Unfortunately, not even he could pull off keeping something under the covers for this long.

"Gee, Logie, I don't know!" James said sarcastically with an eye roll. "Maybe cause there hasn't been a day where you haven't came into school with a bruise, or cut, or limp!" he yelped, trying to be tough like angry, but unable to keep the high-pitched tone of fear out of his voice. Logan kept his face impassive, but inside if felt like his world was bursting apart. He tried to breathe.

"I'm just clumsy!" he lied, trying to make them see what wasn't there. "You guys are crazy!" he squeaked as the rest of their class slowly exited the room, only their teacher staying behind and watching them questioningly. He undoubtedly expected something else was going on too. He shook his head as his face heated up and snagged his backpack, bolting out of the room and leaving his disbelieving friends behind him.

Tears streaked his face as he ran all the way home. Not because they had come close to catching him, but because they were so close to saving him. He had pushed away an opportunity to be rescued, all because he was scared they wouldn't want to.

I'm so DUMB! He screamed at himself inwardly, frustrated. He should know his friends would do anything to help him, but for so long the fear of being rejected for being abused had burned in his heart. It was ridiculous, but what if it wasn't? His eyes burned at the thought of his friends yelling that they hated him, just like his mom did. His feet practically sparked against the pavement as he ran away from his friends, but coming up on his house his steps slowed. His stomach churned.

Logan hated a lot about his life. Normally he wasn't exactly bitter or angry about it, but that didn't mean he didn't ever stop wishing for one second that he could have normal lives like his friends. Nope. Not ever. One of the many things he couldn't stand was his house. Not just because of the fact that it wasn't a home, but because of everything else about it. The windows were cracked, the shutters were falling off their hinges, and the garden was a big weedy, dead mess. It was like there wasn't one thing in his life that could make him happy. Not even the appearance of the place he lived could be nice. At least his friends hadn't seen it. He was sort of shocked he'd known them for so long and they had never even once tried to follow him home from school. He guessed they just knew their boundaries.

He stepped into his house as quietly as he could; hoping for the trillionth time his mom wouldn't hear the loud clicking sound of the lock as he shut the door. Of course, she did. "Logan?" his mother shouted angrily from the kitchen. Logan tried not to groan in hopelessness.

"Yes, mom?" he answered, earning an even angrier mother, storming out into the front hallway to grab his ear. He shrieked as he pinched one of his lobes and pulled. He hated having sensitive ears.

"How DARE you yell in this house hold! How hard is it for you to come in the room and talk to me?" she screamed. Logan's jaw tensed. I don't know, cause whenever I see you, you hurt me? he thought bitterly. "That's it, get in the bathroom!" she ordered, and pushed him away, giving him a kick from behind to speed him up. She was wearing the same robe and same curlers she was wearing the day she had first hurt him, making Logan wonder for the umpteenth time if she ever changed.

He entered the bathroom and his mother pushed him to the floor, him landing hard on the tile. His mother didn't even have to try, he was so thin. Logan was fed lunch at school. That was it. She ripped on the bathtub faucet and waited impatiently for it to fill up with freezing cold water. Then she set to work on violently pulling Logan's shirt over his head. "Hurry up!" she yelled. When he was undressed and the tub was full, she shoved him in. Logan gasped for breath, but she shoved his head under and left the room.

"Mom?" he called when she walked out of sight. He was rewarded with her screaming back at him.

"Keep your head UNDER!" she yelled, and Logan unwillingly obeyed, scared to disobey her. He let his nose hover above the surface just barely, breathing shallowly. The ice cold water soaked him all the way through, freezing him to the bone. When his mother decided he had learned his lesson, she dragged him out of the tub by the throat and threw him on the white tiled floor. He slowly got dressed, trying to ignore the way his cuts and bruises stung as he pulled his clothes on over them.

He spent the night studying, to upset and scared to fall asleep and using his books as his only other means of escape. He doubled over his desk, hands over his ears to block out the noises of his mom and her "friend" in her bedroom next to his own.

Life was crap.

Haha, MUCH better the second time. Now I can post without being mortified. AND it goes SO much better with what I want to do, it's ridiculous. Not only that, but it saves me work, time, and effort. YAY! Plus, I did it ALL while watching tangled. WOOT!