It's Getting Worse
A/N: I think my updating skills are improving. I pretty much wrote this chapter immediately after the first, but I had to wait a couple of days before posting. Need to get some suspense happening.
I'd like to thank the people who took time to review. After a year without writing, it is hard to get started again, so the reviews really do keep me motivated. Other things that keep me motivated are good LoVe music videos. Here's a link to a good one I found - it's to one of my favourite songs:
/watch?vIgbcBhMFPng&featureiv
Well, without further ado, I'll get to the chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the wonderful characters of Veronica Mars.
--
It's Getting Worse
I thought it was over.
I thought he'd leave me alone.
I guess I was wrong.
--
Piz looked across the cafeteria. He could see Logan sitting at a table not far from where he stood. Logan looked frantic.
Holy shit, he thought, Veronica didn't tell him, did she?
He became angry at the thought.
When Logan started yelling Veronica's name into the phone, his suspicions were confirmed. Veronica had told on him.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was sprinting to his car and speeding out of the parking lot towards Veronica's house.
He didn't know what he'd do when he got there.
It's funny, he thought, everyone always assumes I'm this calm, collected, down to earth guy. That I came from a normal family, that nothing bad has ever happened to me. Well, it's not like I didn't do anything to help. I kind of let them assume that I came from a cookie cutter family in a cookie cutter town.
But it was really nothing like that.
--
Flashback:
"Mommy, mommy! Play cars with me." Shouted an eight year old Piz at his mother.
His mother groaned. Just what she needed. An eight year old nuisance annoying her while she had a huge hangover. What time is it, she thought. She rolled over on her bed and bumped into something. Next to her was a young man – he appeared to be about eighteen – next to her in bed. Naked.
"Shit. What happened last night?"
She remembered greeting the babysitter, driving to the bar, and then, the memories were vague. "Oh well. Another night down the drain." She glanced over at the clock. 1 PM.
She got up and made her way to the kitchen. Is one in the afternoon to early to start drinking, she thought. She'd already acknowledged the fact that she was an alcoholic, but she wasn't going to do anything about it. After all. It wasn't hurting anyone.
She saw her young son Stosh running at her down the hallway. "Mommy. I. Want. To. Play. Cars!"
"Okay baby, just let Mommy grab something to drink."
"Okay mommy. I'll be in my room." And then he flashed her an irresistible grin that even an alcoholic mother can't resist.
She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer and finished it standing there with the fridge door open. She filled a glass with vodka and walked to her son's room.
"Mommy," Stosh started sadly, "why do you drink all the time? I don't think that stuff is good for you"
"Oh, but baby, Mommy is no fun without it."
"Didn't Daddy say that the reason he left was because you wouldn't stop?"
That was going too far, she thought. No one. Not even her son, is allowed to bring up her husband.
He left them a year ago. He said he wouldn't stick around while she threw her life away. He didn't even want to take their son Stosh with him. What kind of stupid name is Stosh anyway. She knew she should have never her husband name him.
"Mommy. You should stop. I want Daddy to come home."
She couldn't deal with this right now. She was already hung-over, and slightly drunk.
"Stosh. Stop".
"Mommy I want Daddy to come home." He was almost in tears now.
"Shut UP!"
"Please stop Mommy!" He was yelling too, and the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks.
"I SAID STOP!"
And before she knew what she was doing, she had thrown the glass of vodka at him. It hit him at his temple, and the glass instantly shattered. Cheap glass, she thought.
And then, realization sunk in. "Oh my god," she breathed. "What have I done?"
Her son was there in front of her. Not crying. Not speaking. Probably not even breathing. And there was a slow stream of blood dripping down his cheek. And then he collapsed.
"Hello, I need an ambulance at 26 Harborview Crescent," she looked behind her to see the nameless teenager talking into her phone. "Yeah, an eight year old boy, with a head wound. He's unconscious."
And then the tears came.
--
Whenever he thought about that day, he couldn't help but cry. Because no matter how shit a parent his mother was, he still loved her.
He realized now, that that was the last time he saw his mom. Her sitting on the ground with her hand raised, having just thrown a glass at him.
Everything after that was a blur. He went into the hospital, got stitches, gave the police his statement. They already knew what had happened. The teenager his mom had slept with the night before had seen everything from the doorway.
The police called his dad, told him that they were taking his mother away. You apparently can't return a kid to a mother who throws a glass at said kids head.
His father didn't want him.
He was then put in a foster home. He had been at four homes in the past ten years.
The first three were violent, to say the least.
The first he was put in at the age of nine. The oldest son in the "family" was seventeen, and loved picking on the younger kids. Especially Piz. It never really got violent. However, when Piz was nearly ten, Nate, the seventeen year old, convinced Piz that the upstairs window was magic, and that if he jumped from it, he would fly. Piz, being very naïve, jumped, and landed in the hospital for two weeks with a broken leg, wrist and several ribs.
The second home he was in, was right after he was out of the hospital. The family was so sweet to him considering he was in casts and his foster mother was dying of cancer. She wanted to "do something wonderful for someone else before she died". When she died six months later, his foster father didn't want him anymore.
The third home, was the worst by far. Let's just say that his foster father enjoyed using Piz's arms to put out his cigarettes. And breaking his bones.
When he was put in the fourth home at the age of thirteen, he knew he'd found a home again. This family was genuinely caring, and loving, and wonderful to him. When he got into Hearst, they paid. They didn't make him pay his own way, or win scholarships. They loved him like their own son. However, nothing can really take away a past like his.
Before he knew it, he had arrived at Veronica's house.
--
Black.
All I see is black.
It's everywhere. Threatening to pull me under.
But Logan's on his way. I need to be awake for him.
--
Veronica heard the door open. Thank God, she thought. Logan is here. This can all be over.
"Veronica?" Said a voice. A voice that wasn't Logan's.
"Veronica. I heard about your little stunt. You think you can tell Logan and get away with it."
Oh no, she thought. Piz is back. Pretend to be unconscious. He wouldn't do anything to me then. Would he?
"Veronica?" He nudged her in the shoulder with his shoe. Hard. Again, and again, with no response.
"Oh my God. Did I kill her? I've got to get her out of here before Logan gets here."
She then felt his hands underneath her, and before she realized what was happening, he was carrying her across the floor. Then finally, sense came back to her.
"Piz, put me down, " She said weakly.
He stopped dead in his tracks. She opened her eyes. They were in the middle of her living room. He looked into her eyes. "You tricked me." He said with no emotion.
Then suddenly, as if it didn't happen, she was on the ground, lying on her back. He had dropped her. "YOU TRICKED ME!? WHAT THE HELL VERONICA!"
And then he was on top of her hitting anything he could get his hands on. Throwing punches to her chest, shoulders, even her face.
And he could feel her tears on his hands, but he didn't stop.
And then the front door opened again.
--
Logan couldn't believe his eyes. He had to blink a few times before it finally sunk in. And when it did. He was angry. He was seething with anger.
Piz. Kneeling over Veronica. Blood. On his knuckles. Blood. On her face.
He grabbed his collar and pulled him off of Veronica.
"What did you do?!" He shouted at Piz.
Piz was silent.
"I said, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"
He punched him across the face. And in the stomach. And again in the face.
"I…I…" Piz couldn't seem to form the words. Maybe another blow would help. Again Logan punched him in the face causing Piz to bleed from both nose and mouth.
"I WANT YOU TO SAY IT YOU FUCKING JACKASS! SAY WHAT YOU DID TO HER!"
"I…I…" Piz stuttered.
And then Logan realized. He was wasting valuable time with Piz when Veronica was lying broken and bleeding on the floor behind him.
"You know what? You aren't worth it." And Logan threw Piz to the floor. "Don't move, or I swear I will kill you."
"Veronica? Veronica? Can you hear me?" He pulled her into his lap.
"Veronica?"
"Logan?" She slowly opened her eyes. He could see that it caused her pain to do so.
"I'm right here Veronica. It's going to be alright." He held her close to his chest and slowly rocked back and forth.
"Logan…I love you" She said.
It was the first time she had said that to him. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was so happy he couldn't speak. He was bursting.
And even though it was possibly the worst time in the history of the universe, he kissed her.
--
It was as if all my pain melted away.
As soon as Logan's lips touched mine, all I could think about was the feeling. The warmth. The comfort. And the electricity in the kiss.
I knew this is where I belonged. With him. Forever.
--
A/N: SEE! I told you that it would be a LoVe story. Finally. It has happened.
So the whole this with Piz was kind of to show that even though him and Logan had similar experiences as a child, Logan's the one who didn't turn out to be psychotic, and hence, the better choice for Veronica. It was in no way to get sympathy for Piz.
