The Traitors

Chapter 4 - Logan

I was pacing within the gym walls before pounding my fists into the punching bag which hung from the ceiling. The chains cried as my hits swung the bag around. I was hitting harder than usual, but I couldn't release the anxiousness brewing in the pit of my stomach. This was the only way I knew how to get it out, but it wasn't working for me this time. All that swam in my mind were the three girls causing me grief: Anna, Emma, and Fi.

I had followed through with Anna's request, but where did I go from here? She hadn't given me much to work with besides the bird, herself. Sure, Fi was alive, but how exactly was she supposed to fix everything? I hadn't even heard from her yet. It had been three days and I was starting to worry a bit. I figured she would've called in the morning yesterday, but she hadn't. 

I was trying to talk to Emma about everything, but she was doing her best to avoid me like the plague. She knew she had a lot to answer for, but anytime I sought her out, she would disappear. I don't think she was ready for my interrogation. 

I reeled back and slammed the bag in a series of hits with just my right hand. My left was held high as my defensive shield. My heartbeat throbbed painfully in my fist with every impact until I decided my right hand had enough and punished my left hand against the bag instead.

Fi asked about my siblings the other night which wasn't necessarily a sore subject, but still one I'd rather not get into with a complete stranger. 

The three of us had grown up under a politician father with strict ideals and hard discipline. 

The man adored Carter, the eldest, because he followed the rules and always obeyed. Nothing he did was ever considered wrong in the eyes of our father. He was the perfect son and who I was told to be more like every day. 

Carter was the nicest to me out of everyone in that house, but that didn't mean he wasn't a dick. He was still a piece of shit brother, but didn't purposely get me in trouble. I hadn't seen or talked to him in years. He was too busy doing Father's dirty work, whatever the fuck that entailed. 

Then there was Maeve. The conniving snake was a spitting image of our mother, but was an exact copy of our father. She was manipulative and didn't have a compassionate bone in her body. I was shocked when she decided to become a nurse to "help people." Just another made up life she wanted to create for herself which was paid for in full by Daddy. Daddy's little girl always got whatever she wanted. 

Always.

Daddy's little girl was a bitch. 

Maeve needed to be the center of attention at all times and if the world wasn't revolving around her, she would lose her shit. She would bother me relentlessly when no one else was around to pay attention to her. No matter how many times I told her to go away or to leave me alone, she only seemed to pester me more. The only way she would stop was if I'd go along with whatever she wanted. Most of the time, it led to something that would get me in trouble with Father. She thought it was funny watching him beat the shit out of me.

I switched back to alternating hits when my left couldn't handle anymore. I quickly dodged as the bag bounced and swung back at me. I grunted as I felt the bones within my hands shift. The harder I hit, the more my fists ached. I didn't mind the self-infliction as I begged to feel this physical pain over the pain circulating in my mind.

Mae found out I had developed a healing Trait from the serum and demanded I "volunteer" at the hospital to help her patients. She made sure to capitalize on the fact my blood contained the healing properties necessary to help patients recover faster. This was a crucial part in their patient turn over. Every month, I would come in and be her little pin cushion as she harvested my blood for what felt like hours until she had enough to help her patients.