He must be the only one not to enjoy summer break.
Everyone else had been ecstatic for the end of the year to arrive. They were all tired of doing homework, tests and waking up far too early. But Logan didn't mind as much. School was a safe haven away from the place he couldn't call home. It was his only opportunity to escape for a few short hours. He wasn't permitted to go anywhere else-his parents didn't trust him.
If it wasn't necessary for him to go to school, he wouldn't have left the house. He didn't any other time. He stayed within those walls.
He didn't deserve to go out. That was what they told him. If he was good, if he was better, they might consider it.
Sometimes they messed with him. They told him he was going to be taken to the park, just to see his eyes light up and then when it came time for then to leave, he would be laughed at. Mocked for being so gullible.
Other times, it wasn't so lighthearted.
He remembered back in elementary school in third grade when Joey had asked him to come over for a sleepover.
Logan had always been shy. He didn't have friends until Joey came along. They were in most of the same classes together and sat next to each other in art. Joey was loud and talkative, a sharp contrast to how quiet Logan was.
Having never been invited anywhere before, Logan thought he was joking. But he hadn't been. Joey told Logan he still needed to ask his mom and dad, but he was pretty sure they'd say yes.
It felt almost too good to be true. Throughout the day, Logan had been excited and unable to sit still. It was the first time he would have been going to someone else's house.
But when he rushed home to tell his parents, they'd said no.
"Why do you need to go to his house?" Mom said sharply.
Logan's nose wrinkled at the cigarette smoke that came from the one she held in her hand. "I just...wanna."
"No," She refused. "You don't need to go."
"But...but Mom-"
"You're so needy!" She snapped. "I'm tired of it. It's always this or that. I want, I want. You can just go to your room."
Tears welled up in his eyes. He'd been looking forward to it and it was all for nothing. "But-"
"No, no. No tears. I don't want to hear it! Do I bother you twenty-four seven? Do I beg you for things like a little brat?" She was starting to get in his face. Logan backed up, letting out a whimper. His mom usually wasn't the aggressive one. Except when she'd been drinking her 'special juice.'
"No..."
"You got some nerve!" She poked him right in the chest with her nail. He winced. "You just want, want, want. No consideration for what we want!"
"Sorry, Mommy," He whispered.
She scoffed. "Get out of my face, NOW!" He scrambled out of the kitchen and into his bedroom.
Joey had been disappointed when he didn't show. He'd taken Logan's excitement as a yes. He'd waited and he'd waited. There had been no one else that was supposed to come other than him and with no household number to call, Logan couldn't tell him that he wasn't able to.
Their friendship slowly faded away after that. It had nothing to do with not being able to hangout outside of school. But it had everything to do with Logan's parents. They'd gotten into Logan's head after that sleepover nonsense, making him believe that Joey didn't really want to be his friend-it was just convenient.
And Logan believed that.
He slowly withdrew from Joey, from anybody. He kept to himself and pretty soon Joey moved on. He found a group to play with, all while Logan was on the sidelines, watching them. Even years later, with him now in middle school, he didn't have anyone he could call a friend. He was naturally avoided, maybe because he didn't stand out to anyone. He was the kind of person that sat at lunch alone, hardly given anything to eat, sitting in the corner while all the other tables were jammed full. He was the kind of person that the teacher had to force a group to be a group of three rather than two when it came for them to do work with partners.
It used to bother him. He'd wanted to be liked. Wanted to have someone to talk to and laugh with. It wasn't like they went out of their way to bully him, so there was that at least. They just didn't talk to him. It was as if he didn't exist.
Maybe it was better that way.
But he digressed.
He was looking forward to the summer coming to an end. Soon they would be returning to school. He wouldn't be stuck in the house constantly. He could breathe. In just a few short weeks, this would all be over. He could wait. He would wait, He could do this.
Right now, Logan was being yanked around the store. His dad had to get a few things and with Mom out with Shelley; normally he would be locked in his room until someone came back but the other day he'd been spotted by a neighbor.
Logan could vividly recall the dread that came over when he heard Mrs. Jenson and the surprise in her voice. He'd been yearning for sunlight, to feel a breeze, anything. During the morning when his parents were passed out from a drinking binge, he'd opened the door carefully, tiptoeing out there.
Mrs. Jenson ended up mentioning it to his mom. He couldn't hear everything, but he caught a few words. Namely, her wondering why she hardly ever saw him.
"Oh," Mom laughed slightly. "He's not much of an outdoors kind of boy. He stays in front of the TV most of the time. My husband and I have tried to encourage to get out but you know kids."
When Mrs. Jenson wasn't looking, she gave him a cold look that made Logan feel sick to his stomach, knowing he was in for it now.
He'd gotten burned with a cigarette for that one. It wasn't the first time, but Mom and Dad didn't usually waste their smokes on him.
"What'd I tell you about going outside?" Dad roared. "Didn't I tell you it ain't allowed?"
Logan was so terrified that he couldn't speak.
Dad slammed the cigarette on his arm.
Logan screamed.
Evidently, they weren't going to risk another incident happening, so his dad was ultimately forced to take him along. He could hardly comprehend that he was being allowed to go out and jumped at the opportunity-not that he had a choice in the matter anyway.
"Move along, boy," Dad's voice was snippy but low. He didn't want to cause a scene. He and Mom were good at that, at suppressing their anger to act like everyone else. He'd witnessed that when they had no choice but to go to his parent teacher conferences.
"Sorry," Logan mumbled.
"This is why we don't take you anywhere," Dad hissed. "You're more trouble than you're worth."
Logan wisely kept his mouth shut, knowing that another apology wouldn't be taken well. Anything he said at any given time could be taken wrongly. It was better for him to stay silent, which took him long enough to learn.
They passed by the checkout lanes, which were longer than his dad would have liked for them to be. Dad grumbled and complained under his breath; the lines were out across the aisle, backed up to where the women's clothing department was. It wasn't going to be a quick in and out, that was for sure. Logan bit down on his lip. It was never a good sign when his dad was upset about something. Somehow, it usually ended up being Logan's fault or resulting in him being punished for it regardless. He still couldn't figure out that one. But it didn't matter. He stopped trying to figure his parents out ages ago.
"Wait right here," His dad was speaking through grit teeth. He shoved the list into Logan's hands. "Don't even think about going anywhere."
"Yes, Sir," Logan murmured as his dad went to fetch some milk and cheese.
He...he wasn't used to this. Being out in crowds. His school wasn't that big, but this store wasn't in the same area that his school was. He blanched, trying to breathe. There was so much noise; talking, some shouting, a crying baby or two, some laughter. It all seemed to blend together.
"Oh, sweetheart." Logan's head swiveled to his right where an older couple was standing. The wife, he presumed, had a hand on her chest and her husband was looking at Logan critically. "What on earth happened to you?"
"Uh-" He realized she was referring to the handprint on his wrist from where his Dad had grabbed him and dragged him yesterday. He was usually left with no other choice but to wear a hoodie even in the summer to avoid people asking questions. His sleeve must have come down a second ago.
He froze.
"Does it hurt?" The lady frowned.
"No," he lied. It was throbbing.
"Might want to get that looked at, son," The husband observed.
Logan's eyes darted over to his left where his dad would be. He wasn't supposed to talk to anyone ever. He'd be in for it if he was caught. "It's fine," he put on a smile to convince them.
But neither were convinced at all. They frowned, clearly skeptical.
"Are you sure?" The husband asked.
"Yeah," Logan nodded. "Thank you, though."
He felt the color drain out of his face for the second time when his dad stepped up beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, dropping his stomach all the way to the floor.
"Is there a problem?" Someone else might have interpreted his Dad's smile as friendly. But Logan knew better. That smile was predatory.
"We were just concerned," the lady said. "Your son has a nasty bruise," she pointed to the spot.
"Neighborhood bully," Dad explained delicately. Logan watched as understanding crossed their faces. "You know boys at that age. Always playing rough with each other."
"I remember those days well," the husband was recalling.
"Still," the lady said, "you'll get it checked out, won't you? It looks painful."
"I planned on it," Dad assured her. He pulled Logan closer to him, fingers subtly digging into his shoulder. "Just wanted to see if it would get any better before we did."
The husband took another look at it. "Can you move it alright, lad?"
"Yeah," Logan said, feeling his Dad's eyes on him. "It feels better today anyway."
They talked for a few more minutes, until the couple was sufficiently satisfied and they all went separate ways. Dad was calm, blatantly ignoring Logan entirely.
But he knew trouble was brewing.
/
No sooner had the front door shut with a click, that Logan yelped; he was grabbed by the hair and dragged into the kitchen where his mother was. He was shoved to the floor, knocking into a chair on the way down. He hit the floor forehead first. It made him awfully dizzy but he pushed past it, flipping onto his side.
"What did I tell you?" Dad snapped. "You don't talk to people. Yet you can't even do that! What good are you?"
Mom looked alarmed through her drunken haze. "Who'd he talk to?"
"No one important," Dad told her before settling a glare back at him. "But they asked about his wrist. Wanted me to get it checked out for him," he mocked.
"People are going soft these days," Mom said, taking a puff of her cigarette.
Dad paid her no mind. "Do you want to be taken away?" He demanded.
"I..I-"
"Do you want to be put somewhere they don't care about you and beat you constantly?"
"No," Logan whimpered.
"You-" He pointed at him, "don't know how good you got it. But I guess that's not good enough for you, is it?"
"I'm sorry," Logan blurted out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! She just started talking me and I didn't want to be rude-"
"When are you goin' to learn it's no one's business what happens here?"
Out of instinct, Logan flinched, covering his face when Dad's hand waved around.
"You better hope nothing comes out of this, boy," Dad snarled.
Logan, too terrified to respond, merely nodded.
He was given a hard stare that seemed to last an eternity. That is, until Dad grabbed him once more, taking him all the way back to his closet where he was thrown inside. It was small in there, not big enough for someone his size to be in for more than necessary. He stared up at his dad.
"Since you can't keep your trap shut, you can stay here," Dad said coldly.
"For how long?" Logan whispered.
"Long as it takes for you to learn," the door was shut and locked, rendering him trapped in the darkness.
"No! No, please!" Logan felt panic overtake him. He banged on the door incessantly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please! Let me out! Let me out!"
He couldn't handle small spaces. He had to get out. He had to get out now-
Logan tugged at his shirt collar, chest moving up and down rapidly.
His cries and pleads fell on deaf ears.
/
Logan was curled into the corner, trying to desperately ignore how full his bladder was. There was no sneaking off to the toilet now. He'd grabbed a couple of his shirts to use as a pillow so he didn't have to rest his head against the wall, closing his eyes in hopes he would fall asleep.
His dad's earlier question came back to him more than once.
"Do you want to be taken away?"
He remembered wishing. That star he'd seen. Wishing for a change. Wishing things could be different.
"You don't know how good you got it."
He had a roof over his head. He had food available. He had water. He had parents. He had more than what some other people did. And he was still selfish for more. He hadn't meant to be selfish. He didn't want to ever be like that.
He'd just been so upset-
He should have been more grateful. His parents were tough sometimes but they could've gotten rid of him by now and they hadn't. They were always telling him that; he'd just never understood it until now.
He'd never tried to understand until now.
Maybe if he was lucky, maybe if his dad felt that he'd learned his lesson, he'd be let out soon enough. Unless his dad had intended to keep him there all night.
I probably deserve it