This isn’t happening. Last night at this time I was debating weather to have some more ice cream or go to sleep. Now I’m trying to decide the best possible way to tell off Logan from my trail.
I know my actions haven’t been very girlish during last twenty-four hours, but things he does… I realized something when he came to my room to drop off those slippers. He’s completely out of my league.
I’m not ready to give up light, not even for him. He’s so far gone in to darkness that I don’t have the guts to follow. I might be ready to tag along to that grey area in between, but I’m not willing to venture deeper in to shadows. And I have to find a way to tell it to him before it’s too late.
I’m sure if this were some trashy novel, I would find right words. I wouldn’t have to struggle. All I would have to do was to walk up to him. I wouldn’t even have to say anything, because he would understand the look in my eyes. Would see behind this stupid infatuation that I’m really just a girl. A girl with no business with the things he does. He would see it. He would just nod and give me a hug. We would sit down, maybe have some coffee or ice cream, and everything would return to normal. I would be just Marie. He would be just Logan. But it doesn’t work that way.
Twice I have witnessed his twisted desire. Once I have succumbed under it myself. It was frighteningly easy. And I felt frighteningly dirty afterwards. Soiled. Whereas Logan managed to look relaxed and normal, I was shivering under icy cold water, wishing I had something coarse enough to rub myself clean.
I don’t know if it’s my Christian upbringing, some stray strands of morals I have gathered along my life, or my naivety, but there’s a part inside of me that’s whispering to me even now. Telling me that I’m a horrible slut. Dirty, bad girl. Damaged goods. Too nosy for my own good. Unworthy.
Rational part of me knows it isn’t true. What happened doesn’t make me a bad person. But there’s a tiny part that believes every word. Listens to those whispers and keeps nodding.
Shit. I’m not going to get any sleep. Not as long as this thing between us is unsettled. Maybe I should just leap and hope for the best. It’s Logan we’re speaking. It’s not like he will rape me if I go and speak to him. Right?
But first I need something to calm my nerves. And I know just the thing that will do the trick. Jubes told me she got me a carton of Swiss Almond. It’s waiting for me in the freezer. Whole unopened carton.
She wasn’t kidding. She got me a maxi-pack. Not those sissy half-liter ones. Two liters of pure sin. Kitchen counter. Check. Spoon. Check. Dim lights. Check. Open door to patio. Check. What the hell? Oh, fuck! Logan. He’s out there. Why not just strike me with a lightning and end this properly while you’re at it, big guy? I know I haven’t been paying much attention to You since I left home, but if this is Your way of punishment, I’ll choose the Devil over You any given day…
Oh, it looks like he hasn’t noticed me yet. Good. I can just slip this back to freezer and sneak out before…
“Don’t you ever sleep?” Eep! Busted.
“Yeah. I do. I was going to… I just came to get some ice cream before I went to bed because Jubes brought me some Swiss Almond and it’s just too good to pass and…”
“If you don’t start breathing soon, you’ll pass out, kid,” Logan says, leaning against the doorframe, hands crossed over his chest, cigar dangling from his fingers. Everything in him, that posture, his words, voice and scent… It’s all Logan. Just Logan. It makes me want to go to him and cuddle up against his chest. I actually take a step towards him before the fact that he’s not just Logan stops me. I’m scared. And I know he can smell it. Smell my fear.
He tilts his head and there comes the raised eyebrow.
“Well?” He grunts.
“What?”
“Weren’t you going to have some ice cream?”
“I think I’ll pass. There’s too much sugar. I won’t be able to sleep if I eat it now.” Logan shrugs his shoulders.
“Suit yourself…” He swivels around and disappears back in to the darkness of the night. And now I really need that ice cream.
My hands are trembling and it’s hard to get the carton open. I nearly manage to knock off the dessert bowl from the counter when I scoop some sticky chocolate goop in to it. When I try to rescue that bowl, I accidentally knock the carton down from the counter and it lands to the floor with wet thud, sounding much like Sabretooth, only quieter.
“Fuck!” I grab the bowl and throw it across the room. It explodes against the kitchen wall, raining sharp shards of glass everywhere.
“What the hell was that for?” Logan asks, walking in and eyeing the mess confused. There’s something warm dribbling down my cheek, running along my jaw line.
“Shit. We have to go and get Jean…” He mutters, crosses the floor with few strides and scoops me to his arms and I start screaming.
He’s touching me. He has his arms around me, and I can smell blood, there’s blood, and Logan’s here, holding me.
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