Okay guys, this is part two! I actually wasn't going to write this (my artistic side liked it as a one shot and stuff...) but you guys all added it to your alerts and asked and assumed and stuff, so I just decided to do it anyway. So yeah.

Dear Chicks At The Palmwoods,

Currently three members of Big Time Rush are single. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Love, CheekyBrunette

Logan stared himself down in the mirror, hating the exhaustion in his expression. He hated everything about himself. His hair was course and matt, his smile was crooked, his eyes a dull brown, his face too angular, his nose too sharp. Everything was ugly, and undesirable, and imperfect. He wanted to get rid of it. He had to get rid of it. He rubbed his nose, wishing he could tear it off. He didn't know what else to do with his horrid features, but throw them away like the garbage they were. Besides, it probably hurt him more to keep them on, than it would to rip them away.

Logan rolled up his sleeves. The long, thin cuts hidden underneath stared back at him in glowing red, the color mocking him. It was a constant reminder to what lie just below. He shivered and glowered at them. Not even his blood was right. He wanted it out, he wanted the satisfaction he felt when he watched it's gloppy consistency water out and flow down the sink. He liked seeing the bad go away.

It was almost like the wold was laughing at him. As soon as he had figured out a way to get rid of something he hated without everybody finding out how pathetic, how weak he was, it had to just be snatched away. He was sick of the body checks, the searches through his stuff, and the watchful eyes. He craved to drain himself out again and get rid of all the wrongness inside him.

Tears of frustration welled in his eyes, and he clawed at his arms with his nails, their ugliness just fueling his tyrant further. He blindly tore at the healing scars, eyes lighting up a little as he drew blood. He scratched violently at his bleeding arms until they were raw and open, skin making way for the flood of blood pouring from them. Panic struck, quickly followed by horror as he realized what he was doing. He started to hyperventilate as he frantically turned on the sink, hot water scalding his shredded arms. Tears flowed down his cheeks, but not because of pain. Guilt had overtaken him.

Logan rested his head on the cool edge of the sink, the porcelain feeling good on his flushed cheeks. Why was he doing this? He was hurting his friends, and he hated it. It was fin when he was just cutting himself, but now that the guys knew... it was almost like he was slashing his friend's arms instead of his own. Plus, even though he wouldn't admit it, cutting hurt. No matter how badly Logan wanted it, and he truly did, blood was not supposed to be on the outside of anyone's body.

He heard some screaming over the rushing water, but ignored it as silence followed. He crawled away from the sink after a while, and held towels to his wounds, bright red streaking the fading white. He pulled his knees to his chest, arms pressed up in between, and buried his face into the towel. This somewhere in the back of his brain, he knew his friends would be telling him he was perfect, that he was underestimating himself, but that didn't change that fact that they thought that, not him.

Everything is so messed up, he thought unable to help but whimper as he tried to avoid more crying, failing miserably. He must have been in their a long time because there was a sudden knock on the door. Logan, looked up sharply to see Kendall and James, both with already red-rimmed eyes, walk through the door. The locks had been removed ever since they found out, and realized that they couldn't trust him to stop on his own. James let out a small gasp and turned away, holding himself and biting his lower lip. It was painfully obvious how much he was struggling to contain himself, which just made Logan hate himself that much more. Kendall, meanwhile just looked kind of shocked.

"How..." he gulped, not really wanting the answer, "how did you do that?" he asked, nodding toward Logan's ripped apart arms. Logan kept his head down, not really wanting to admit to Kendall how bad he really was. He knew he was a danger to himself, but he hadn't known how unmanageable it had gotten until now.

"With my nails," he said, eyes fixating on the tile of the bathroom floor. When Kendall didn't say anything, Logan looked up to see him rummaging through the medicine cabinet and pulling out gauze. The look on his face made it clear as to what he was thinking, but James was oddly the one brave enough to say it out loud.

"I think you need help, Logan," the tall boy said, looking like he hated the idea himself, which is probably because he did. James honestly didn't care if it was really best for Logan to send him away to a ward or something, but he did know that he couldn't take seeing him like this another day, all torn up and broken... it was impossible. Logan's heart started pounding wildly in his chest as Kendall remained silent in agreement and came over to start wrapping his arms.

"No... NO!" he shrieked, not caring if he woke Katie or Carlos who were already having an impossible time getting through this, and definitely did not need to hear him screaming while bloody in the middle of the night. "You can't take me away!" He looked up at Kendall, shaking his head slightly as he denied what his mind was processing. "Please, don't send me away, let me be here, I need here, I can- ack!" he yelped when Kendall slapped him across the face brutally. Logan looked up to see Kendall's expressionless face, his eyes hiding behind his blond bangs, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Why won't you just get help?" he asked quietly, and then lifted his head to reveal tear filled eyes. "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST GET BETTER? HOW COME YOU WON'T TRY? Don't you see how it's tearing us apart when you do it to yourself? WHY WON'T YOU JUST LISTEN! LOGAN, WE WANT YOU TO STOP!" he cried out desperately, a single tear falling to the ground with a splat. Logan looked up at Kendall, arm only half wrapped. He shook and let his gaze fall back down to the floor, groping for the blonde's hand and gripping it as tightly as he could once he found it.

"You're the only ones who can help me," he whispered in a breath, not missing it as a groggy eyed Carlos made his way in the bathroom, fear etched upon his innocent face.

"Why?" Kendall questioned, not looking at Logan either. His jaw was clenched tight and his muscles were all tensed as his hands stood paused in the process of patching Logan up, something he had gotten far too good at. Logan shuddered before answering.

"Because you're the only ones who make me feel good when I know I'm not."

Okay I really want to leave it off there, but if one of you demands otherwise, I suppose I'll have too continue... Sigh. When did this become so big?