Logan turns on the lights and walks down the hall holding my backpack which he took when we were still on the street. He said I was looking weird enough. Whatever that meant. I'm lingering at the door as if I still haven't made up my mind.
Though... It's not far from the truth. I can't say that I fully understand why I'm here... Logan comes back to me and gives me a quizzical look. I shake my head and take a step forward. Logan turns on the light in the kitchen and searches the cupboard for something.
"Where is the bathroom?" I ask.
"At the end of the corridor to the right," Logan replies.
I walk down the corridor, deeper into the house. I've already been here once. Passing by the living room, I peek inside. There is an armchair, next to it is a table with an ashtray full of cigarette butts, and the TV is turned off. Down the hall is Logan's room. I turn right and go into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.
When I look at my reflection in the mirror, I am filled with despair and panic.
"Oh, God..."
I look at my swollen left eye, at the bright red bruises, and I'm even scared to touch them. Yes, Logan beat me before, but it never was that bad. It definitely won't heal anytime soon.
I sit on the edge of the bath, trying to stop the chaotic flow of thoughts in my head, and calm the trembling in my hands. But I'm breathing too fast, so the panic only gets more intense. I jerk myself up off the edge of the tub and look at my reflection again. Using my index finger, I carefully lift my swollen upper eyelid to make sure I still have my left eye, that it can see at all.
So... the eye is in place... But in addition to the eye, I also have aching ribs and an arm that is difficult to unbend. I unzip my jacket, which looks like it's been rolled in the mud, and take it off, trying not to hurt myself. Pulling up the edge of my t-shirt, I turn sideways to the mirror. Red spots blossom on my ribs. I pull the t-shirt up and grab the edge with my teeth. I run my fingers over the bruises, pressing lightly, trying to see if my ribs are broken.
"Are you okay in there?"
I almost jump on the spot when I hear Logan's voice from behind the door.
"Yeah," I answer, releasing the edge of my t-shirt from my clenched teeth.
"The shower switch doesn't work well in there, you have to press... let me just get it done," Logan says.
"I... I'm not going to have a shower."
"You sure?"
I open the door and meet his surprised look. The next moment he hands me a bottle.
"What is it?" I ask, perplexed.
"Bourbon," he says casually.
"And why do you give it to me?"
"It alleviates the pain."
"No, it's not," I say after a pause.
I look at him without changing my expression, although I'm not sure if there can be any expression on my face right now. Logan shrugs and takes a sip from the bottle. Something about this bothered me...
"You know," I say. "I better go. Thank you for what you did. I mean for helping me and all that. But I'll go."
"Where?"
"Home! Where else?"
"...Why?" He looks genuinely confused.
I shrug. "Because I... live there... I don't know what answer you want to hear."
"Listen," he says after a pause. "Stay... until tomorrow. If your parents see you like this, they will have questions. They will probably want to call the police..."
"Well, maybe this is the right thing to do!"
"Yeah, but..." continues Logan. "Are you..."
I know what he's doing, and it works. I'm not ready for this. I have no strength for this. I have no strength to invent lies, and I have no strength to tell the truth and face the consequences either. I just want to have a rest. To sleep. And this warm sensation in my chest gives me hope that tonight, finally, I will be sleeping properly.
I take a deep breath.
"I need to call home," I say and automatically put my hand in my jeans pocket. But there is no phone. It's not in my jacket either. "Shit..."
As fast as my body allows, I walk over to Logan's room and open my backpack, rummaging through my things. In the end, I just shake them out on the floor, check all my pockets, and, crestfallen, sink to the floor. My phone is gone.
"I'm definitely cursed..." I say out loud to myself. Logan is standing in the door frame watching me. He hands me his phone. I take it and notice that his splash screen is simply black. No image or photo. I dial my mom's number, and she answers right away. Her voice is worried.
"Hello?"
"Mom..."
"Adam?! It's you? Where are you? What happened? I've called you a thousand times!"
"I know, mom, I'm sorry, my phone is dead... I mean, the battery... I'm with a friend now." It was very strange to pronounce this word.
"What friend? What's going on?"
"Mom, everything is fine, really. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier. We have a... um... a project. School project. And we've been working on it, and I completely forgot about the time. But we haven't finished yet, so can I stay until tomorrow?"
"No, Adam, of course not! Go home!"
This is bad, she was already on edge when I called, and it is unlikely that she will give her permission now. But I have to try at least.
"Mom, this is a semester graduation project!" I'm trying to portray indignation. "I don't want to fail it. I worked too hard!"
Mom is silent, only breathing noisily into the phone.
"What friend are you with?" She finally says.
"Logan... Douglas." I give mom his address. "It's not far from us, so don't worry. You can call on this number."
"Okay," mom agrees reluctantly. "But tomorrow you'd better be home on time!"
"I will."
I exhale and hand Logan the phone.
Tomorrow is going to be a fucking shit storm. I cover the right side of my face with one hand and sit silently on the floor for several minutes. Logan doesn't say anything either, just standing by the door.
"Are you hungry?" Logan asks calmly. I raise my head to look at him. It all still seems like a bizarre dream to me. I nod wearily, and Logan walks to the kitchen.
For some time I just look at the mess on the floor as if hoping that my phone miraculously appears among my things. But... no miracle for me.
I put all my things back, get to my feet and leave my backpack near Logan's desk. This table was supposed to be used for homework, I guess, but it's littered with cola cans, cigarettes, empty crisps bags, and candy bar wrappers... Oh, these are my favorite banana bars.
Since I never washed up, I go back to the bathroom. Before turning on the water, I carefully straighten my arm and bend it again. Everything seems to be fine with it, and the movement was limited by the pain in the shoulder. I wash my face, avoiding looking at the reflection, and go into the kitchen. Logan hands me a slice of microwaved pizza.
"Thanks," I say and eat it right away. With this, I immediately realize that along with shallow sleep, I haven't been eating properly for a whole week. And now my body seems to want to return to normal, despite the fact that I was just beaten. So the piece of pizza only whetted my appetite. But... I can't just ask for more food.
However, as I'm about to get up from my chair, Logan suddenly stops me.
"Wait, toasts are almost ready."
I obediently sit back, secretly rejoicing. I watch Logan making sandwiches. He's still wearing a sweater, but I'm wearing a t-shirt only. My shining is more visible, and I feel too exposed. So I cross my arms over my chest as if that might hide shining.
After a couple of minutes, Logan sets a plate with sandwiches in front of me.
"Thank you," I say and hesitantly take one. We sit silently and chew. I'm too tired to think. And I feel how shining gradually captures me more and more. Makes me relaxed and light. Thoughts about tomorrow cease to disturb me, the pain subsides, sandwiches seem to be the best meal ever. And I'm... safe.
I must admit that the last thought even managed to surprise me. I'm squinting at Logan. His face is also relaxed and calm.
When I finished eating, I return to the room. There is little left of my indecision, more precisely... I am driven by fatigue and shining, so I lie down on Logan's bed without even asking his permission. And I don't even bother to think where Logan will sleep because the bed is too narrow for the two of us.
He enters the room and comes closer, almost too close, but then takes a step back.
"I'll sleep in my father's room," he says. My consciousness is already drifting on the border of a sweet and long-awaited dream, so I don't even answer him. But the next second, my hand grabs his hand, and I say, "Can you stay? Until I fall asleep... it won't take long..."
And it seemed to me that I immediately passed out, so I do not know how Logan reacted to this. I hope he did not.
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