SCARS - WOLVERINE X READER FF

TWENTY ONE

I stormed toward the car, Logan's voice calling my name, but I didn't turn back. My mind was racing, anger and hurt flooding every part of me. I reached the car, grabbed the passenger door, and yanked it open—except I pulled too hard. The door ripped right off the hinges, metal groaning and bending until it hung awkwardly in my grip.

"Fuck!" I cursed, staring at the door dangling from my hand.

Logan caught up, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and concern. "Hey, hey. It's okay," he said, carefully taking the twisted door from me. He set it aside like it was nothing, not even phased. "Are you alright?"

I climbed into the passenger seat, ignoring the gaping hole where the door used to be. My hands were trembling, and I felt more out of control than ever. "I'm fine. Just drive," I mumbled, staring straight ahead.

Logan got in, started the engine, and pulled away from the apartment building without another word. Silence filled the car, thick and heavy, the only sound the hum of the tires on the pavement and the wind gushing through the gaping doorway.

After a few minutes, Logan finally spoke, his voice careful. "It's a five-hour drive back to the mansion, and it's getting late. Maybe we should find a hotel?"

I nodded, still staring out the window. "Yeah, okay."

Logan glanced over at me, his expression softening a bit, and nodded.

~

As we drove, the city lights blurred into the distance, giving way to the quiet darkness of the open road. I felt like I could breathe a little easier away from the suffocating buildings and the weight of the confrontation with my parents. But even out here, the hurt clung to me, heavy and unshakeable.

"I didn't mean to rip the door off," I said after a while, my voice barely above a whisper.

Logan kept his eyes on the road, his hand reaching over to squeeze my knee gently. "It's fine. You've been through a lot tonight. We'll get it fixed. Don't worry about it."

I looked at him, grateful for his calm, steady presence. "Thanks. For everything."

Logan nodded, giving me a small, reassuring smile. "You don't have to thank me."

The rest of the drive passed quietly, the two of us wrapped in the kind of silence that didn't need to be filled.

After some time, Logan pulled into the parking lot of a small, roadside motel. The flickering neon sign lit up the slightly wet pavement. It wasn't much, but it looked quiet, and right now, that was more than enough for me.

Logan got out, went inside to check us in, and came back a few minutes later with a key in hand. "Room's ready."

I followed him to the room, the fatigue of the night catching up to me with every step. Inside, the motel room was simple and unassuming, with two twin beds and a small bathroom at the end. Its decor was stuck in the 70s, but I found it oddly comforting.

I sank onto one of the beds, the cheap bed springs shooting me back up slightly. Logan sat beside me, his presence a comfort I desperately needed.

"I'm sorry about what happened tonight," he said softly.

I nodded, the fight draining out of me. "Yeah. Me too."

As I fell back, the events of the evening still echoing in my mind, I closed my eyes, but I wasn't asleep. Logan just breathed through his nose, and got up to put on the (very) old TV.

"I'm going to take a shower." I spoke up again, opening my eyes. Logan turned his head to me, and nodded.

I got up and made my way to the bathroom. It was kind of eery, with its dim buzzing light and the mysterious brown-red stain on the tile floor. I grimaced, trying to ignore it, and took off my clothes.