Tracking Logan Foster

{4} Untitled

Sitting on opposite sides of the empty train cart with only the sounds of the wheels rolling over the tracks at incredible speeds, Logan and I remained in absolute silence as the sun faded to gray outside.

I must have dozed off for a few minutes because the next time I awoke, the temperature had dropped several degrees and the darkness outside was obsolete, camouflaging the shadows cast by the enormous trees.

Shooting a quick glance at Logan with his eyes shut, I determined that he was taking a nap as well, and decided not to interrupt his time of peace.

Picking at the skin on my fingers, I suddenly became nervous if my family was worried about where I was. I rarely ever left for long periods of time, and they knew about my frequent midnight walks, only ever warning me to be careful.

The thought was quickly forgotten when a pain filled groan echoed in the small space and bounced off the concrete walls, causing a shudder to course through my body. I focused my attention on the broken boy as his back arched and he hissed through his teeth, squeezing his hands together so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His lips moved, but no sound came out before he cried out, sending goosebumps down my arms.

Hair standing on the back of my neck, I did not know what to do as Logan Foster trapped himself in one of his nightmares, fighting for control that was so obviously unattainable as he surrendered to the mercy of some unknown force.

"Do it," he bit out through clenched teeth, "Kill me," he dared with his eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading his forehead even though it was well below freezing in the train cart.

I crawled over to him, bridging the gap we had separated ourselves across, and laid a hand on his shoulder, whispering, "It's just a dream."

In the blink of an eye, my body was slammed against the solid wall as a hand clamped over my throat, blocking oxygen from entering my airways. My eyes bulged from their sockets as I struggled to regain my breath.

Infuriated blackened eyes fired daggers at me as Logan's lips thinned out in a straight line. Coming in a close second to the time I had thought someone was shooting at me, this was easily one of the most terrifying moments in my life.

"Lo..." I forced out, clawing desperately at his hand around my neck.

"It's not just a dream. It's a real life fucking nightmare," he spat, giving me one last shove against the wall before his eyes softened and he let me go.

I crumpled to the ground, taking in greedy breaths of air as I gasped. Logan's leather jacket billowed around me as I kneeled hunched over.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, "Iris, I'm so-" He began to apologize before stopping himself and dropping sorrowful eyes to the ground.

Tears pricked his cold, suffering eyes as he bit his lip and shook his head, trying not cry.

"It's okay to let it out," I said, shakily climbing back to my feet.

He rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, displaying muscular forearms as he folded them behind his head. In that brief moment that I had seen his bare skin, I caught a glimpse of something that he always kept hidden.

Prominent fleshy scars had been etched across each of his wrists, some new and some old, some long and some short, some deep and some shallow, but scars nonetheless.

"You don't understand; I'm dangerous. I could lash out at any moment and hurt you without realizing what had happened until..." He trailed off before picking up again, "I've done awful things and I don't deserve to be alive."

I was speechless as I gawked at the boy who could snap at any given second. He slid down the uneven wall of the cart as I wondered what demons he fought with to keep his sanity in tact.

"Don't say that," I hushed, sitting beside him even after his warning. His eyes flashed and he stared straight ahead, undoubtedly leaving the train car for a few moments as he replayed gruesome events in his mind.

I knew my guess had been accurate when he questioned, "Who's to say my life is worth more than someone else's?"

Not knowing it had been a rhetorical question, I answered, "All of our lives are equal."

I wasn't so sure of that previous statement anymore, especially when he countered, "Your own ignorance blinds you to the fact that there are people who are willing to take the life of someone else without an ounce of regret."

I yanked my hand back as if it stung and soon felt my own hands start sweating as I listened to what he was saying.

"Those are the people who need to be shown what a gift it is to be alive," I tried to reason, lacking my earlier enthusiasm.

"What if I told you I'm one of those people?"

Looking in his eyes, I said, "That's why I'm here to show you how to love life."

He evenly matched my stare, admitting, "That's not what I meant." He didn't bother to explain further, instead leaving me to sit and wonder what he actually did mean.

I knew not to push for more details in fear of triggering unwanted memories from resurfacing. He would tell me when he was ready...I hoped.

Deafening silence entered the cart once again, never straying too far away. The quiet contrasted so much against my bustling busy life that it felt completely foreign to me.

Yet, it probably felt natural to Logan.

***********

"Iris!" Logan yelled, breaking through my dreams, "We need to get off now!"

My eyes flew open as he shook my shoulders, jarring me into alertness. The sun was just on the horizon, illuminating the train cart as I started to make sense of what was happening.

Logan's dirty blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his brown eyes were frantically flying from my face to the open cart door.

That was when I realized the trees weren't flashing by in a blur, the wheels weren't making a racket against the tracks, and several voices were conversing close by.

Instantly on edge, I stood up beside Logan and cautiously peeked my head out of our cart only to be pulled back into the close confines of it.

Logan shouldered himself in front of me, acting as a shield to protect me and take my place to look out.

I couldn't see over his broad shoulders and tall frame and was forced to settle for waiting until he said the coast was clear.

Stumbling back a step as his legs went weak, betraying his ability to stand, Logan fell into me as his face flushed, becoming as pale as the snow outside.

As if he'd just seen a ghost, he turned to me and opened his mouth to say something I'd never find out before he whipped back around, and jumped out of the safety of our train car.

***********