The Boy On The Other Side Of The Wall- Analogical

8~Chores~8

Quick AN- I want to thank one of my very good friend Sarcasm1203 for helping me create this plot and storyline, this story wouldn't be a thing without them. They are an amazing writer and friend, and I highly recommend checking them out (Sarcasm if you deny any of this I will physically fight you)

Logan tapped his pencil on the desk, glancing up at the clock, only having around three minutes until school, or more accurately, Hell would end. He sighed slightly to himself, picking up his communications notebook, which was his current class, and shoving it in his bag, along with his pencil. He still had that 'X' drawn over his forearm, staring up at him like the sign that he had a soulmate, which he so desperately wish wasn't true, hating the idea of soulmates with a passion. Love didn't exist. Well, at least in Logan's world, love hadn't existed for nearly nine years- stop, don't mention that. Don't mention him.
The sixteen-year-old quickly stood when the final bell rang, definitely not looking forward to going home, but he knew he had to get home quickly. He rushed out of his Communications class, basically sprinting down the hallways, his heart beating out of his chest. The halls started filling up with students by the time Logan was to the front doors, pulling the door open, his teeth cutting through his bottom lip as he sprinted away from the school, towards his house, which was an around a seven minute run, and five minutes if he sprinted, which he was. He was shaking badly as he sprinted down the street, already a ways away from the school when everyone else started pouring out the front doors, tears stinging his eyes as his hair bounced with every fast step he took towards his house.
Logan skidded to a stop in front of his house, breathing heavily from nonstop sprinting for almost five minutes, feeling like he was going to completely collapse, his legs shaking and aching, his throat and dry from running. He basically dragged himself to his front door, opening the door and walking in, tears pooled in his dark brown eyes as he started walking up to his room. He held the strap of his bag tightly as he collapsed on his bed, his breathing very heavy from all the sprinting, and his legs in agony for the same reason. He took a few minutes to catch his breath, his lungs hurting, feeling like he had inhaled snow, though obviously, he hadn't.
Logan stood up after a moment, swaying a bit when he put pressure on his legs, which still hurt like hell. He knew that he had to do his chores before he could even think about starting on his homework, which normally took hours just to do his chores.
Logan stumbled out of his room, starting towards the kitchen. He saw the dishes in the sink, from last night's dinner, which would take a lot longer than you would think because the food was literally burnt onto the dishes since his parents were such bad cooks. He sighed shakily, turning on the hot water to start washing the dishes. Chores. Then homework. Then sleep. Then school. Repeat. That's all life is, that's all life ever was. Except when he was- HE ABANDONED YOU, HE DOESNT CARE. I bet he never did...
Logan quickly shook the thoughts away, just washing the dishes, being able to think of so many other things he had to get done before he could start on his homework. He saw this life (LIKE A SWINGIN VINE, SWING MY HEART ACROSS THE LINE (I like counting stars too much)) to be a living hell. He didn't have anyone, his parents hated him, everyone at school hated him, even he hated him.
Logan finished the dishes after almost twenty-five minutes, grabbing a towel and drying off his hands. He left the kitchen, starting to focus on his other chores, which included cleaning the living room, dining room, his own room, his parents room, the floors, and the windows, and organizing the bookshelf and everything in the fridge and cabinets, his parents never cared about themselves keeping the house clean, though always had Logan clean the house. He finished at nearly 10 pm, his hands and back aching from everything. He could barely keep his eyes open anymore, though knew that he still needed to do his homework.
Logan dragged himself up to his room, shaking a small bit. He sat down, pulling his homework out of his bag. He started to work on it, his handwriting shakier than normal.
It was nearly midnight when he heard the front door open, which caused Logan to look up quickly. Fuck, someone's home... He thought in fear, quickly standing and sneaking out of his room and to the stairs, making himself as small as possible in the minimal light that was in his house at fucking midnight.
The sixteen-year old's heart stopped in his chest when he saw his mother standing at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes going wide in fear. I would much rather Jamie be here than this bitch. He would NEVER say that out loud, but that didn't stop him from thinking it. "S-salutations."
Alison looked startled. "Oh, hello." She said with a fake smile at her son. "Why the hell are you still up?"
"Why the hell weren't you home earlier?" Logan countered with a raised eyebrow, not meaning to come off as rude.
"That is NO way to speak to your mother, Logan," Alison said, starting up the stairs towards him.
It was at this moment that Logan knew, he had fucked up. You're not a mother to me- He thought before sprinting back to his room and closing the door. He sat against the door, eyes closed tightly as the small boy started to shake like a leaf. He heard his mother trying to turn his doorknob only a few moments later, fear coursing through his skinny body.
Alison shoved her way into her son's room, causing Logan to sprawl out against the ground. "You do NOT speak to ME that way." She snapped, quickly kicking him in the side before grabbing a pen. She wrote 'idiot' across the boy's wrist. "That is all you are, Logan Tio Stone."
Logan whimpered at the kick, shaking a small bit. "I know..." he mumbled.
Alison chucked the pen to the ground, storming out of her son she considered a disappointment's room.
'Are you okay?' Appeared under the word idiot