The Truth

Chapter Four

Rory woke up the next morning to the sound of her cell phone ringing. "No," she groaned. "Too early. Need sleep." It took her about a full five seconds to actually get the damn thing open once she had gotten it out of her purse.

"Hello?" she yawned, not bothering to check who it was.

"Hey Ace!"

Logan's voice really was too happy for so early in the morning. "Logan? What are you doing up so early? It's only eight o'clock." She looked over at Paris's bed to see it empty, along with a large note that said she was out and that if Doyle called and there was no message to document, Rory would die a very slow and painful death via nail clippers.

"Go to your door."

"Why?"

"You'll just have to see."

"Do I have to go now? I'm so tired, and the door is, like, 5,000 miles away."

"Go."

"Fine," Rory grumbled, climbing out of bed and not bothering with her hair except to run a cursory hand through it, because, really.

Eight o'clock on Saturday morning.

"Hey Ace!" Logan yelled happily as Rory opened the door, spreading his arms and leaning in to give her a hug. "How are you this fine morning?" he asked with a smile. "I brought you some soup," he said, handing her a container, with a rose taped on top.

Rory smiled. "I love it," she said, grinning at him, giving him the smallest kiss before quickly moving away. "But why do I need soup?" Rory asked, confused.

"Paris said you weren't feeling well," Logan explained, a little hurt at how the kiss had played out.

"Oh, well, thanks. Actually, I am kind of hungry. Do you want some?"

Logan nodded, and Rory went about getting bowls. Logan was watching her carefully, not having forgotten about the night before.

"So what happened yesterday?" asked Logan casually.



"Yesterday?"

"Where'd you have to run off to so suddenly?"

"Oh that. I sent you a text message."

"Yeah, but what specifically went wrong?" Logan asked, testing her.

"Umm…" Rory said nervously, trying to remember what she had written in that message. She looked sideways and caught a glance of herself in the mirror, noting how morning-esque she looked, which wasn't really that surprising. "Hey, I'm going to go change, I'll be right back. You can dish out the soup."

"Right," Logan said, watching as she walked quickly past him and into her room, noticing how she pushed herself as far away from him as she possibly could as she edged past him, as though he had some kind of disease.

She returned a few minutes later, dressed for the day in dark blue jeans and a sparkly white long-sleeved shirt, her hair now brushed and a fresh coat of make-up decorating her face. "So, where were we?" Rory asked, grabbing two cups out of the cupboard and filling them with orange juice, before realizing how bad that would probably taste with soup and dumping it out, lugging out the large bottle of Coke instead.

"You were about to tell me, specific details included, why you had to skip out on me yesterday when I came to pick you up to go to the library."

"Oh yeah. Wow, you have a really good memory," Rory laughed nervously.

"It's one of my many charming attributes. It's how I got into Yale."

"Trust me, you don't want to know what happened, it would only bore you," she handed Logan his cup and he went over and sat on the couch, beckoning for her to sit down next to him, which she did, but only because he would find it odd if she didn't.

"I like being bored. It makes the fun stuff more fun."

Rory laughed and nodded in agreement, shoving a spoonful of soup in her mouth, mumbling gibberish, hoping that what sounded like "WegfhwereIseemysoopho," would somehow translate into something that Logan would accept as a legitimate excuse and that would match what her text message said.

Logan just looked at her like she'd announced her dream of someday being able to hostess an alien family on earth. "Huh?"

Rory shoved another spoonful in her mouth, saying basically the same thing.

Logan sighed, putting his bowl down at his feet. "Rory, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Rory said, looking away from him.

"It's not nothing. Come on you've been acting strange for the past three days. You don't seem to want to come near me, Paris is yelling at me for doing something to you and threatening to kick my ass, your parents show up in the middle of the night, looking like somebody died, and then tell me to get lost."

"You were here last night?"

"Rory come on, tell me what's going on."

"I'm not that hungry right now. I'll save this for later," Rory said, walking over and putting her bowl on the countertop. She turned back around to see Logan looking at her, obviously expecting an answer. "I'll just get my purse and then we can go," she told him, walking past him, but Logan reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back down on the couch next to him.

"Ace, please talk to me," he begged.

Rory felt tears spring from her eyes before she could stop them, and looked away from him, embarrassed. "It's nothing," Rory said, beginning to cry in spite of herself.

Logan carefully put his arm around her, his eyes filled with concern. Rory whimpered, and began to shake. "Please don't hurt me," she whispered, screwing her eyes shut and shrinking back against the couch.

Logan felt his heart break at how terrified she seemed of him, but something told him to not let go of her. "Who's hurting you?" he asked, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"I'm so sorry Logan," she cried.

"Who's hurting you?" Logan repeated, keeping a hold on her.

"I can't tell you," Rory admitted.

"Why?" Logan asked, trying to keep his anger under control.

"They said if I told anyone they'd kill me. I'm really scared Logan."

Logan's eyes widened. They? So there was more than one? "Who? What did they do to you?" Logan demanded.

Rory could only shake her head and cry, while Logan tried to calm her down. She was terrified of telling him. He'd surely hate her after he found out. Maybe he'd even do it to her too, as a punishment or something. She had read about that kind of thing happening. But it was too late now. She had to tell him. And he did seem honestly concerned. "They raped me," she finally said, barely above a whisper.

:

Yay, she finally told somebody. I'm glad she told Logan.