A Little Bit Of Joy | ✔

Chapter Thirteen : The Girl Who Made His Heart Race

Third person's POV [Logan]

Logan woke up from the bed because of the noise of his phone ringing on the nightstand. He rubbed his eyes lazily, stretched himself before picking up the call. He didn't say anything and let the person who called speak first.

"Logan, you there?" He heard the familiar voice of his old friend Jerry and swallowed hard. "Did you see the text messages I sent the other day?"

"Yeah," Logan said in a barely audible voice. "I saw."

"So when are you moving out?"

"Give me some time, I need to figure out--- "

"Look, man, I understand, but I'm sorry," Jerry interjected and continued, "I helped you all this while, but I can't anymore. I need to sell the place, I need the money and your rent money isn't enough man."

"You can increase the rent, I'll pay," he said with determination while unconsciously fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

"That money won't be sufficient for my mamma's treatments, I have to sell the house."

Logan could hear the firmness in Jerry's voice and he knew that he had to give in considering there was no legal contract involved. "Okay, just a few more days. I need time to move out."

"Alright, cool," Jerry said and before Logan could hang up on the call, he added in a softer tone, "Take care man."

Logan just hummed in response and cut the call, the panic of moving out slowly settling in him. He could feel the immense weight on his shoulders and the familiar suffocating feeling as he dragged his legs towards the bathroom. He picked up his toothbrush and started on with his daily routine, but today's pressure made him feel different. He had to find a place to live, but who would help a freak like him? He thought solemnly and his hands went automatically to the razor kept on the shelf above the sink.

Physical pain distracted him from what he felt internal. He was aware that in this way, he was just making his condition worse by delaying the feelings he actually felt. The pain, the hurt, the loneliness, the feeling of worthlessness, but as he drew the blade near his arm, he succumbed to his thoughts. Today wasn't the day to battle with the repercussions of cutting himself, the feeling of shame, embarrassment and disgust couldn't be dealt with. He didn't have the time to go through all that because he was supposed to find a place to live in.

And he had run out of bandages, he thought bitterly.

He hadn't taken a shower for three days and he remembered Joy's teasing words, 'you stink,' echoing in his ears, so he proceeded to wash. The cuts on his arm were now turned into scars, but they looked ghastly, so he wore a full-sleeved shirt as always even though it was summer. He recalled Rosemary reading a romance novel and her eyes twinkling in awe as she pointed at a dialogue in the book, 'your scars are beautiful too.' He almost laughed at that, almost.

After eating a breakfast consisting of cereals and milk, he hurriedly cooked Mac and Cheese for lunch. He would soon run out of it too and wondered what to stock up on next-instant noodles, pasta, oats, yoghurt, loaves of bread, ready-to-cook meals etc. He was tired of eating the same food over and over again, but they were easy to cook and cost a hell lot cheaper than takeaways. He needed more money and his two jobs, one at the flower shop and one of sticking pamphlets on walls at night wasn't sufficient. He had saved little money for college, but with a new place to find, he was dreading on whether he would have to use that money. Sometimes, he felt like being a bit hopeful and looking forward to college, but days like these, he felt like giving up and taking his own life.

He lumbered towards the flower shop with the plastic bag consisting of his lunchbox and a banana dangling on his finger. He was trying to suppress the worries of moving out, but he knew that he had to. Jerry had helped him a lot already and his own pride refused to beg him to not sell the place, especially when Jerry needed the money for his mother's treatments.