by Bailey B
I swallow hard and tell myself I’m imagining him again. Alan Shaffer isn’t here. He can’t be here.
I killed him.
But this man has the same angled jaw. Same pointed nose. Same dark brown eyes that never matched his complexion. It can’t be him.
Mom waltzes over and pulls me into a hug. This woman hasn’t hugged me since I was six years old, and that was an awkward side hug for a photo. I stiffen, not sure how to handle the show of affection. “Look who stopped by to say hi, sweetheart.”
The man stands and extends his hand. “Good to see you, son.”
My stomach quivers and for once I’m thankful I didn’t eat lunch today. Even though I was starving moments ago my appetite is gone. Same fucking cologne.
“Logan,” Mom says with a light warning tone. “Don’t be rude.”
“H…” I swallow a boulder in my throat and force myself to speak, taking the man’s hand to shake it. His skin is cold. Clammy. For a split second, I wonder if vampires could be real, but push the thought away. This person is probably just someone and my mind is drawing parallels, seeing what it wants. “Hello, Dr. Shaffer.”
I expect the man to correct me and tell me his name is Mr. Joe-schmo. He doesn’t. “You’ve gotten big, son.”
“S-stop calling me son.” I growl. My emotions are all over the place. Freaked out. Pissed off. Ready to cry. They’re spinning like a top and no matter which they settle on, I’m fucked. “I’m not your kid.”
Mom sets her cup down and walks over to me placing the back of her hand against my forehead. Such a doting woman when we have company. I still under her touch, the deprived child in me desperate for her attention. “Are you feeling okay, honey. You haven’t stuttered in ages.”
Dr. Shaffer smirks at the comment. He knows he’s getting under my skin. Making me unhinged. I step back, out from under mom’s touch. She doesn’t care about me, not like this. Not like she does Cooper.
“I’m so sorry about Logan’s behavior today. I don’t know what got into him,” Mom fusses. She turns her attention to me, glaring with that disappointed look I’ve seen all my life. “Don’t you think you should apologize?”
I grit my teeth, feeling the muscles of my jaw flex with the tension. Fuck no, I’m not going to apologize. Seeing this man alive and walking around… I should’ve beat him harder with my baseball bat. Should have done more than destroy his office. Apparently, I didn’t do a good enough job fucking him up. I mean obviously. The dude’s alive!
Holy shit.
He’s alive.
Does Dad know? Is Dr. Shaffer here to press charges against me? I was worried about Danika remembering my truths and the trouble she could cause. But this. This is so much worse.
Feeling the color drain from my face, and the bile churning in my stomach, I leave the kitchen without excusing myself. I hide in the bathroom, twisting the lock and lean against the door. If that really is Dr. Alan Shaffer, I’m fucked. Jail time fucked. Dad. Sheriff Tomlinson. Dr. Winters.
They are all fucked.
There’s a soft knock at the door. I twist the lock, knowing there’s only one person in this house who cares enough to seek me out. I step to the side and sit beside the toilet. I’ve barely given enough room for the door to open, but Danika squeezes in.
She sits on the floor beside me and takes my hand. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head and lean into her lap. Tears fill my eyes and no matter how much I want to fight them, want to set them on fire, they explode out of me. I hate that Danika’s seeing me like this.
Weak.
I’m a man. Men don’t cry. They bottle everything up and eventually all of their feelings explode out of them in some heated fight. When I was four, I fell off my tricycle. I ran up to dad, tears in my eyes and pointed at my knee. You know what he did? Slapped me across the face and told me not to be such a baby. “Boys don’t cry,” he said, “they deal with it.”
I hug my knees into my chest. I want to curl into a ball and hide. Hide from Dr. Shaffer. From Danika. From myself.
Danika threads her fingers through my hair, lulling me until I’m calm. Mom used to do this for Piper when she’d wake up crying. The pang of jealousy ripples through me. I’ve never asked for much. Hell, I never asked for anything. I rarely spoke! But I should have gotten the same basic level of affection Cooper and Piper got.
Her unwavering love.
“Logan Anson Harris!” my mother demands, pounding on the bathroom door. “Open up this instant!
I hug my knees tighter and bury my face in Danika’s leg. Her tears fall onto my cheeks and I feel lower than low. I need to be strong. I need to comfort my girl and let her know everything’s fine, but I can’t. I physically can’t.
Mom beats against the door again. “God damnit, Logan! Open up.”
Danika shifts out from underneath me. I hear her sniffle then see the hallway light reflect against the porcelain tub.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Mom shouts. My back is to her, but I’m sure she’s looking past Danika and at me.
“No.” Danika growls. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Excuse me?” My mother rears back. I can practically see her eyebrows arch, that hand settling on her hip.
“How can you call yourself a mother?” Danika scolds. “Are you too blind to see that something happened and your son is having a moment?”
“A moment?” Mom guffaws. “He’s always been emotional. This is nothing new.”
Danika tsks. “Then maybe you should reevaluate your parenting skills because you fucked up somewhere.”
“Get the fuck out of my house!” My mom demands, her voice reaching a new octave.
“Gladly.” Danika kneels beside me and rubs my back. “Babe?”
“Don’t even think about leaving, Logan.” Mom spits. “You’re grounded.”
Danika ignores her and helps pull me to my feet. I feel pathetic. Beyond pathetic as she wipes my cheeks. But there’s no judgement in her eyes. Only love and understanding. “Let’s go for a drive.”
42
Logan
We end up at the beach.
I guess it’s fitting. Technically we as a not-couple began here. Once Danika knows about me, we’ll end here too; coming full circle.
The sand is warm, having baked all day in the sun. That’s the great thing about Florida, it’s the middle of November and still hot outside ninety percent of the time. I wouldn’t go swimming, the water is probably colder than I like, but to sit outside in a pair of shorts this time of year is a luxury the rest of the country doesn't have. Probably why I’ll never leave this state. I hate the cold.
Danika sits beside me, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. She closes her eyes, letting the sun’s rays beam down on her. She’s gorgeous. So much more than I deserve. Without her, I’d probably still be on the bathroom floor, mom screaming at me through the door. Eventually she would have given up and left, but mom’s got good lungs. She could yell for hours. I saw her and dad go at it like that back when I was a kid.
“Want to talk?” Danika asks, squinting in the sun. We’ve been sitting here for a while now, long enough that I’m half tempted to walk over to the restaurant and grab us some drinks. Danika won’t say anything in front of Cooper, but there’s a good chance mom has already called to rant about how I’ve embarrassed her. Cooper doesn’t know the details, but he figured out that something went down with me and Dr. Shaffer when dad refused to let me go back to therapy.
“Not really,” I tell her honestly. “But for you I will.”
Danika smiles, waiting patiently. When I don’t immediately start talking, she scoots closer. I lay back in the sand, tucking one arm under my head and the other around her, pulling her down with me and onto my chest. This may be the last time I have her in my arms. Might as well enjoy it.
I take a deep breath and let it out. My story is a long one I’ve never shared before. I’m not even sure where to start.
I run through the details in my mind, trying to figure out when this particular problem began.
“I was in the third grade the first time Piper came to live with us. I was so excited I could barely stand still. This girl—my new sister—was an outcast, unwanted and unloved by the only family she had, her mother. I've never fit in with my family, still don’t, and I thought Piper and I would bond over our differences.”
Danika squeezes my arm, her way of silently saying, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
I kiss the side of her head, breathing in her rosewater shampoo and close my eyes. “We never bonded, not until this year. She, like everyone else, fell under the Cooper spell, and tossed me aside. She wasn’t intentionally mean to me, but like my mother and Cooper I think she forgot I existed.
Dad, on the other hand, never forgot about me. In fact, he remembered me a little too much. Especially after a few drinks. I like to think Mom didn’t know what was happening, but the truth is there’s no way she didn’t. Dad was smart though, he only hit where the bruises wouldn’t show.”
Danika runs her hand over my side. I shiver because she already knew about Dad. I broke down once in the seventh grade and told her. Showed her the black and blue welts across my back. The scars from where his belt broke skin near my ribs.
“I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but at some point, Mom became worried about how Piper was adjusting and brought Dr. Shaffer, a child psychologist, to the house. He spent some time getting to know Piper, then talked to both Cooper and I individually.
There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about Dr Shaffer. He was older, maybe mid-forties, with thick blond hair. I remember he had a huge mouth and big teeth. He looked a little goofy, but it fit his face, especially when he smiled. It was easy to open up and talk to him because he was nice.
Piper was fine, but Dr. Shaffer was worried about me. Apparently, I was depressed, which looking back isn’t surprising, but Mom acted shocked. She cried to Dr. Shaffer, complaining how she didn’t know what to do because I never spoke up about what’s bothering me.”
“Maybe if she would have paid attention, she would have noticed,” Danika mumbles, that same fire dancing in her tone as before. I lace her tiny fingers with mine and kiss the palm of her hand. My heart beats wildly against my chest. I haven’t gotten to the hard parts, not yet, and I’m terrified she’ll pull away and leave me once I do.
“I started therapy once a week the next day. At first everything was great. Dr. Shaffer and I played games and watched tv together. Sometimes, he’d sit on the couch beside me and read me stories. It was the first positive experience I’d had with a man because my dad and I had a terrible relationship.
Maybe that’s why I didn’t say anything when Dr. Shaffer’s hand rested on my thigh the first time. Sure it felt weird, him touching my leg, but I liked him. I wanted him to be proud of me so we could keep our sessions. I was eight. I didn’t know that this was not how therapy went.”
“Oh, Logan,” Danika whispers.
I swallow the lump in my throat and keep going. If I stop now, I’ll never finish. “We stayed like that for almost a year, playing games and watching movies together. Dr. Shaffer’s hand from time to time would linger too long on my shoulder or rest a little too close on my leg, but overall it wasn’t a big deal. I trusted him.
I was ten the first time Dr. Shaffer touched me. He told me we were moving to the next step in our therapy, that at first, I might feel uncomfortable, but that my discomfort was normal. All the hairs on my body have only stood on edge a handful of times, and that was the first. Every time since, whether for good reasons or bad, the pin-prick-hair-rising feeling always brings me back to that moment. To the way I jumped back in fear when his hand touched me.”
I shudder, blinking back tears at the memory because I didn’t know any better. I stare up at the clouds, not wanting to see the disgust on Danika’s face. “I looked up to Dr. Shaffer. I thought he had my best interest at heart, that he wanted to help me break through my depression and become comfortable talking to people. Do you remember in the sixth grade when our school forced us to learn about sex trafficking and what to do if someone tries to hurt you? I sat in that lesson, shrinking deeper inside myself, realizing that I was a victim. There were at least a dozen things mentioned that hadn’t happened to me, but a good handful did. My stomach twisted into a million knots that afternoon as Mom drove me to my weekly session. I sat on the same brown plush loveseat, wondering if there were other boys Dr. Shaffer was doing this too, or if it was just me.”
“Logan,” Danika whispers, interrupting my story. “You don’t have to tell me any more. I get it. Whatever you did to that man, he deserved it.”
I shake my head and sit up, bringing my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs. “You don’t, because he wanted me to touch him. He said we were nearing the end of our sessions. I just had to prove to him I was ready. I would have done it too, had the school not shown us that program.”
Danika places her hand on my back, rubbing small circles. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault, Logan.”
I jerk my shoulder and stand, walking to the shoreline. The water kisses my feet as the waves crash onto the sand. It’s cold, like I expected but I don’t shiver. I watch Danika’s shadow approach. She stops just outside of the water’s reach. I cross arms, hugging myself and stare at a speck on the horizon. “Mom took Dr. Shaffer’s side when he said I tried to seduce him. Never even asked for my side of the story. She wouldn’t look at me the whole drive home, but I knew she was going to tell my dad and that he would wake me up in the middle of the night and drag me into his office.”
Danika steps into the water and wraps her arms around my waist. “Stop,” she whispers. I look over my shoulder; silent tears trail down her cheeks. “I don’t need to hear anymore.”
These are the demons I live with every day. The ones who take every good feeling and twist them into a living reminder of my nightmare. Just when I thought they’d been chased away forever, they’re back. “You don’t even know half of it yet. What if you leave me when you find out the rest?” I’d understand if Danika ran, if she pulled away and stopped fighting to be whatever it is that we are. We both know we aren’t just friends. We’ve crossed too many lines.
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere, and whatever you did to that man, he deserved it. ”
43
Danika
Logan and I spent the rest of the afternoon in my living room watching reality TV on Netflix. He doesn’t want to go back to his house and I don’t blame him. When we pulled into my driveway a few hours ago, that same white car was still next door. Not to mention, his mom was a royal cunt today. It blows my mind that she’s never noticed what Logan went through. I’m glad Mrs. Harris welcomed Piper into her home, but she shouldn’t have taken on another child when she had one that desperately needed her attention.
Sitting on the couch, we don’t talk about what Dr. Shaffer did to Logan, or what happened after. I don’t need to know, although I’m sure at some point he will tell me. It makes sense now, why he was so worried about his secret.
He thought he’d already told me
He was worried I’d blab.
I shake my head and chuckle under my breath. Stupid man. The alarm on my phone goes off. I grab my phone off the side table and silence it with a frown. “Dad’s coming home soon.”
Logan pushes the button on the remote to pause the show. He stands, grabbing his own phone and the cup he drank out of and wordlessly walks to the kitchen. He rinses it in the sink and says, “I should go.”
I don’t want Logan to leave. He’s been withdrawn ever since we got back from the beach. I get it, I do. Talking about your trauma reopens the wounds. I thought he’d cry or maybe even yell during his story. Instead he was stoic. Even now every word, every movement is controlled and cold.
He opens the door for me, letting me out first then freezes. I fol
low his gaze, to the white BMW leaving his driveway. “Logan?”
He swallows hard and closes his eyes. I reach for his hand but Logan shakes his head, so I step back. After a few moments of silence, his thick lashes lift and he looks at his driveway again. “I need a drink.”
Logan turns his head, but I touch his cheek, forcing him to look at me. I’m scared. Scared he’s going to spiral backwards into the jerk he used to be. Scared he’s going to seek comfort in the bottom of a bottle instead of my arms. He might not be used to people having his back but I do. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Logan reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone, thumbs tapping away at his screen.
I feel the distance growing between us with each passing second. What’s it going to be like when he walks away. Will I be able to get him back? I touch Logan’s arm, silently pleading for him to look at me. I’m trying to be strong for him, but my own armor is cracking. “Don’t put up that wall again. Let me in Logan.”
He exhales loudly and shakes his head. We turn our heads to the sound of tires on pavement. My dad closes his car door and smiles up at us. He waves to Logan, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.
“Talk to your dad.” Logan’s phone dings, his lips lifting at the corner. “I’ve gotta go.”
Logan marches to his house, closing the door behind him and my heart sinks. It’s always two steps forward and then five steps back with him. Every time I think we’ve made a breakthrough, he shuts me out again. It’s frustrating as hell.
Dad stops on the porch, greeting me with a side hug. “Hey, kiddo. I didn’t know you were home.”
I stare at the Harris house, mentally willing Logan to come outside again. An invisible noose wraps around my neck. Squeezing tighter with each passing second. “Yeah, plans changed.”
Dad sets his brief case down and touches my shoulder. “Honey, are you okay?”
Am I okay? No, I’m far from it. My boyfriend was abused for years as a kid and I’m just finding out about it. His mom is an idiot who ignored the signs and his dad was an abusive prick. How Logan has coped without turning to drugs or alcohol is beyond me. Then again, he might have. I was gone for three years. There’s a huge window of his life I know nothing about.