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What am I doing? I wasn’t going to leave him here like this. I promised to help him and that’s exactly what I was going to do. He needed a friend to stick by him, long enough for him to understand that he could choose another path. It’s not too late.
Are you crazy? Run!
I went to Logan and he lowered his eyes when he saw me. Frantically, he wiped the tears away from his face.
“It’s okay to cry,” I said approaching him warily, still uncertain which Logan was sitting before me.
He was balled up against the wall, and didn’t say anything in response. He huffed when I sat down next to him. I positioned myself in front of him. My desire to save him burned so strongly and I wasn’t about to let him smother it.
“Look, Logan, this is really messed up. I promised you I would be here for you. Despite what you may think, I know you are a better person than all of this,” I reasoned, trying to persuade him to realize who he really was and who he wanted to be.
Logan fidgeted uncomfortably, turning his head without speaking.
“All right, look, if you don’t want to speak to me again when this is over I get it, but right now I’m the only friend you have, so don’t be indifferent,” I ranted, frustrated that he was ignoring me.
His head twisted back around to face me.
“What are you doing?” he asked hesitantly.
I was flush with nerves. I didn’t want to set him off again but holding back was not an option. Logan needed to know he was not alone. He wanted someone to care about him so badly, and I was prepared to do just that. “I’m being a true friend, Logan. I meant what I said when I told you I would be here for you.”
“I’m a monster, Claire. There is no helping someone like me. You need to run far away from me,” he urged, sitting in front of me, begging for needs he was unaware of.
“No!” I huffed this time. “I said I wouldn’t run Logan, but you can’t treat me this way. You can’t treat anyone this way. I’m not your mom, and you Logan, are not your father,” I pleaded, placing my hands on his knees, begging him to listen.
“I’m worse, Claire,” he admitted, breaking my heart.
“And that is your father talking, Logan.” I chided.
Silence.
“God, Claire.” Logan started sobbing again. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to live with what happened here. I need to take you back to Brent. You belong with him. I know that now.”
I pulled his head down to my lap, running my fingers through his soft blonde curls, trying to calm him. “Shhh, Logan. It’s okay, I’m here.”
His sobs transitioned to heavy breathing and in no time at all, he drifted off to sleep.
I considered bailing, but I couldn’t bring myself to break my promise. So I sat, continuing to stroke his hair, thinking about how ashamed his mother should be. She had received an amazing gift – one not every woman could receive. That woman should have protected him –above anything else – particularly against his own father. I knew it was wrong to judge her, having not been in her shoes, but a child deserves more.
The next couple of hours went by in a haze as I wondered where Brent and Reese were, and if they were safe. I had yet to move so as not to awaken Logan, knowing he needed to sleep off the alcohol. Finally deciding I needed to sleep as well, I grabbed my sleeping bag and returned to Logan. I covered the two of us up and lay close to him for warmth.
Clutching the locket Brent gave me, I sighed deeply and a warm sensation draped my body.
It’s going to be okay, baby girl.
My dad’s voice was exactly as I remembered it, thinking for minute he was actually in the room with me.
Stay strong, you’re doing the right thing.
I heard him again and then the voice was gone. That was all the reassurance I needed to hear. If I had any doubts before about handling Logan, they had been erased. Logan needed this and maybe I needed it too. A few tears gathered and I squeezed my eyes, releasing them before my lids closed heavily.
In th
e morning, the room was filled with sunshine and Logan was nowhere to be found. I walked around the empty loft noticing for the first time how interesting it was. There were tools and drop cloths strewn about in some of the rooms. It appeared to be an industrial building that was being converted to living space. I peeked out the windows immediately recognizing Boston, although I was unsure of the exact location. We were at least five floors up. The view went on for miles. Spotting the ocean in the distance, I blushed recalling my time with Brent at the beach house. I really missed him.
I heard the door open. Logan entered with coffee and a Dunkin’s bag looking abashed.
“I brought bagels and coffee,” he offered.
