I know I'm kinda juping back and forth in time, so sorry if it gets confusing! Last chapter they were 9 and now they're 8. Also sorry if people think Kendall always seems to be the victim, I just prefer it that way! But they'll be some more of Kendall comforting Logan too! Anyway, enjoy!

We were eight when your family fell apart.

That was how my parents described it, anyway. They'd always disapproved of your mom staying with your dad. They claimed he was no good, but she was lost without him.

At first, they were right. But there were problems before your parents left each other. There was a lot of fighting almost every night. I could hear it from across the street. Whenever I asked you about it you wouldn't say anything, unless we were alone. I was pretty much the only one you trusted, and somehow that made me happy. You would tell me all about it, and how much you wished you could just to something about it.

All I could do was be there for you.

Then one day, you came into school with a black eye. Everyone asked you a million questions about it. "I was playing hockey with my cousins yesterday," you said without a second's hesitation. They all believed you.

But I didn't.

I invited you over to my house after school. I knew you would come, since you had told me it was hard to be in the house because it was so tense. As soon as you sat next to me on my bed, I asked you.

"So, Kendall. How'd you get that black eye?"

I saw panic flash in your eyes for a second. "I already told you . . ."

"I know you didn't get it playing hockey. I'm not that gullible."

You laughed then. "I suppose I should've known you were too smart to fall for it." Your smile vanished, and suddenly I was really worried. How bad could it really be? "He punched me, Logie."

The three horrible words stayed in my mind pretty much forever. But at that second I was just panicking. "Who punched you?" I asked blankly, even though deep inside, I knew who. You were only eight, and he hit you. That made me so angry that even though I had never been a fighter, I would've stormed right over there and taken on your dad single-handed. You were smaller than me when we were eight. You didn't get stronger and taller until a lot later on. All I knew was how much you were hurting. I could see it in your eyes.

I did the only thing I could do. I gave you a hug. I noticed you stiffening up slightly when I hugged you, and I figured it out. "Kendall, roll up your sleeves and lift your shirt up."

You looked at me with wide eyes. "Why?"

"Just do it, please."

You let out a shaky breath before rolling your sleeves up. I saw more bruises, some were new and others were older. Then you lifted your shirt and I saw more on your back and stomach. "Kenny?"

You started crying then, huge tears sliding down your cheeks as you put your shirt sleeves back down. I hugged you again, being gentler this time. "How long was this happening?"

You sniffed mournfully. "A week. Not that long."

"What did your mom say?"

"She doesn't know. I've kept them covered all the time and when she saw the black eye I told her I fell down the stairs."

"Kendall, you have to say something to her. You can't let him do this to you just because he and your mom are fighting!"

You nodded at me and told me you'd say something. Then you left. I didn't believe you would tell her. But there was nothing else I could do. I couldn't sleep that night. I couldn't forget how upset you looked when you showed me all your bruises. I felt my blood boil again as I thought of your dad treating you like that. You were his son, his little boy, and he was hurting you.

I was still awake at three am. I heard sirens and my heart skipped a beat. I ran to my bedroom window and pushed the curtains aside. I saw a police car outside your house. I stared for one terrible moment before running to my bed and taking my shoes from under it, putting them on before grabbing a hoodie out of the closet. I put it on as I was running down the stairs. I heard my parents getting up too but I didn't wait for them. I unlocked the front door and ran across the street.

I saw the cops take your dad from the house in handcuffs. He was struggling and shouting at the top of his voice. Then I saw something else that actually stopped me in my tracks.

An ambulance. There were paramedics running into the house. I was so scared I was pretty sure my heart actually stopped for a second. Then I heard my mom and dad coming up behind me. "Logan! What are you doing out here?" I felt my mom wrap her arms around me. When I realised she was pulling me away I started struggling. "No! I have to see Kendall! Let me go!"

"Logan, I'm sure he's fine." She didn't sound convinced. "You need to come back to bed."

"Noooooo! I have to go! Please!" I turned around to look at her. "Please," I begged, feeling tears fill my eyes. "He's my best friend, Mom."

She sighed. "Ok. We'll drive to the hospital. But can we please get dressed first?"

"Fine," I muttered, letting her take me back to the house. We all got dressed and the three of us went to the hospital. The whole time I was praying that an ambulance only came with the cops. They weren't really needed. Because you had to be ok.

We walked into the waiting room and saw your mom and Katie. Horror coursed through my body, because that meant the one who was behind those hospital doors was you. Your mom was talking to a doctor. I broke into a run and went up to them. They didn't even notice me, so I heard some of the conversation.

"He's going to have bruises, but not as bad as the ones he has already."

"What bruises?"

"You didn't know?" the doctor asked, eyebrows raised. "There are old and new bruises all over his arms, back and stomach."

Your mom was shaking. "Oh God, I had no idea . . ."

"We were afraid that he might have some fractured vertebrae from when he hit the wall, but he was very lucky." The doctor sighed. "And he won't talk to us. Not a word, he's refused to say anything. We even called one of the nurses who specialize with traumatized kids, but he wouldn't talk to her either."

"Mrs Knight?" I said timidly. She looked at me. "Logan! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Kendall."

"Oh." Mrs. Knight looked at the doctor. "Can we see him?"

"Alright. Follow me." I followed. My parents stayed behind, completely forgotten. We went into one of the rooms. You were sitting up in bed, looking completely alright. Except for your face. Your eyes looked blank, dark and empty. They'd never looked like that before. Ever.

"Hi, Kendall," your mom said, walking up to the bed. It scared the hell out of me; you just stared up at her, saying nothing. "How are you feeling?" your mom asked nervously. Still nothing. You just looked up at her. Then your eyes shifted until you were just staring at the blank empty space in front of you.

I walked up to you on the other side. "Hi, Kendall. It's Logan." You didn't look at me; you just acted like you hadn't heard. "Kenny?" Then you looked up at me with those wide scared eyes. "Logie?" you asked. You sounded so small that I felt like someone had come and replaced you. Your mom gaped at you. "Kenny?" She tried out the nickname too, but you ignored her. You were just looking at me. I reached out and squeezed your hand gently. You looked down at our hands, then up at me again. "Logie."

I was so scared. Was that all you could say? Had you lost your ability to talk? I watched you carefully. "Kenny? Will you talk to us?"

"Logie . . ." You squeezed my hand back, looking back at me. Even though it seemed you couldn't speak, your eyes were silently willing me to understand. I looked up at your mom. "Um . . . I think he only wants to talk to me," I muttered shyly. I had no idea how your mom would react.

She just nodded. "We'll wait outside." Before she left the room, she turned back to me. "Logan, help my baby talk again." I nodded slowly, though I had no idea how I would do that.

I turned back to you. "Kenny?" You looked at me. "Yeah?" I jumped a foot in the air. "You talked!"

"Yeah." I frowned. "Kenny, what happened? I was so worried about you."

I was amazed when you laughed. "Stupid Logie. Stop . . . worrying." You paused and frowned thoughtfully before continuing, pausing a lot to try and find the words you were looking for. "He . . . threw me against the wall . . . punched me . . . kicked . . ." you frowned again. "And screamed at me."

A mental image appeared in my head of your dad picking up your small body and tossing you against the hard wall. I felt my blood boil. "I swear to God, I'm gonna kill him!"

"What? You can't do that!"

My eyes widened. "Wow, I shocked you into talking properly!"

You smiled at me. "I guess so." You sighed. "I hope Mom isn't cross with me for not talking to her."

"Why wouldn't you talk to her, anyway?"

"I don't really know." You shrugged. "It was so weird, not knowing how to talk. I'm not sure how it makes any sense. I knew what I wanted to say, but I just didn't know how."

"I think it happens sometimes when people get hurt. Their mind gets hurt too, or something."

You gave a small smile. "I don't know what's going to happen now. I don't wanna stay here, I'm only bruised!"

I couldn't help laughing. "Maybe they'll let you go now. Will I get your mom?"

You nodded. "Thanks."

I went to the door and opened it. "Mrs. Knight?" She came in quickly and went up to you. "Kendall?"

"Hi, Mom," you said sheepishly.

She burst into tears then, hugging you tightly. "How are you? Does it hurt?"

"A little." You looked up at her. "Am I able to go home now?"

"I'll ask the doctor." She left again. I looked back at you with a grin. "I'd watch out from now on. She's never gonna leave you alone after this."

You groaned. "Aw, man. I can just picture it. When I'm sixteen, she'll still be treating me like an eight-year-old. I can't wait."

I laughed at the sarcasm. "Well, maybe it won't be that bad." You paused. "Ok, who am I kidding? She'll be treating me like a kid too, if I'm still around by then!"

You laughed too. "You're still gonna be around, because I'm not letting you leave." Then you looked at me with those bright eyes. "I need you, Logan."

How did that go? Let me know!