Page 35 of Logan

The book in my hand was worn around the edges and had obviously been read many times. I tapped the cracked spine against my leg as I ground my teeth against the sudden surge of hot emotion that bubbled up my throat.

“All what?”

“I…” Jason’s eyes flickered back and forth, searching my eyes for an answer he couldn’t find. “I don’t understand.”

My hand that wasn’t holding the book curled into a fist at my side. “All what? You keep talking about thethings I’ve been through, andeverything I’ve experienced, but you’ve never actually said it out loud.”

Jason backed up another step, but I followed him.

“I-I don’t—” he stuttered, looking everywhere but directly at me.

“What? Can’t say it. Fine. I’ll say it for you. I was taken. Imprisoned. Raped and tortured. Everyday. For years. And when I finally got free, I chose to go back to doing the exact same thing because that’s all I know how to do.”

I gripped the book in my hand so hard I could feel the pages bending.

“There. That wasn’t so hard to say, was it? Or are you afraid that saying out loud is going to taint your perfect little home.”

I had just enough sense not to throw the book directly at him, and instead, hurled it off to the side. My teeth ached from how hard I clenched my jaw, and my whole body shook as I stared into Jason’s eyes, watching his emotions fighting each other.

The sound of something breaking was like a slap to the face.

My fury disappeared, evaporating out of existence like a single drop of water landing on the surface of the sun. I practically stopped breathing as I turned to see the book I’d just thrown sitting on the floor, surrounded by a puddle of water and the broken pieces of a glass vase.

Lying on top of it all, like a rose placed on the lid of a coffin, was a single broken orchid stem with its petals scattered across the floor.

I stumbled toward the mess, grasping for the pieces of the broken vase as if I could put it back together.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

My hands were shaking so bad, I could barely hold the delicate pieces without dropping them. The vase had once been perfectly clear, but each piece that slipped back to the ground looked a little redder, like it was stained just from my touch.

“Don’t touch that!”

Jason grabbed both my wrists in a rough grip and yanked me away from the vase.

I forgot where I was.

I forgot who I was with.

In that moment, as Jason’s fingers wrapped around my wrists, all I could see were other hands grabbing me.

Other faces leering at me.

So many unspeakable pains assaulted me at once and I screamed.

“No!”

As soon as it had come, the memory faded, and I was left standing in the middle of a suburban living room, with Jason lying on the floor where he’d fallen after I shoved him.

I ran.

My feet pounded against the stairs as I fled to my room and locked the door behind me. Then the strength left my legs and I collapsed to the floor with my back pressed against the door. I panted for breath, yet I couldn’t seem to get any air. My fingers stung when I clawed at my throat, and I left red streaks of blood against my own skin.

I’d cut myself when I’d foolishly tried to pick up broken glass with my bare hands. Jason had only been trying to protect me, and I’d treated him like he was a monster trying to attack me.

Two weeks.

That’s all it took for me to fuck it all up.

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