Darkness in Light (Sander Sides fic)

Destruction

Logan sank out of the room silently, dismissing the others sides flattery and compliments. As much as it warmed his heart, deep down he doubted their sincerity. He simply disposed of a threat, nothing more, not to them. And they only listened to him when they realized they were out of other options, previously repeatedly telling him to shut up. He felt as if he was nothing more then a tool to them. They pushed him to the side at every opportunity, speaking over him or hushing him. Yet they wonder why he raises his voice to even be heard. They even gave the "dark" sides words more thought then his own.

He couldn't deny the anger inside of him, the pain he wished he could say he didn't feel. He wished he could convince himself of the lie that he didn't feel anything at all. His room however, said otherwise.

As he rises in, he was reminded of the destruction he had caused after Selfishness vs Selflessness. Posters of the Periodic Table and the like torn from the walls, thin shreds that remain still clinging to the walls as if a wild animal had clawed across it. Books were haphazardly strewn across the floor like mines, bedsheets ripped from the bed, only barely clinging on. The whole room looked like a monster had been let loose inside. Perhaps it had, Logan wondered darkly, staring down at his hands which had caused the mess before him. He closed his hands tightly, causing his arms to shake. He took a sharp breath as tears built in his eyes, biting his lip in denial.

He could not break down, not again. He only just got validation, the first he's gotten in.... he couldn't remember how long. Several episodes, he knew that much. And yet that validation meant nothing, it changed nothing. Months of being pushed aside for a hint of appreciation. And it meant nothing. He meant nothing. Nothing to them. Just a tool, a shield to keep themselves safe, letting him take the damage. If they weren't in danger, he was useless. Logan staggered to his bed, collapsing to his knees on the floor and clutching the bedsheets desperately. Hoping, wishing for it to ground him or comfort him. But to no avail.

Frustration he kept hushed came crawling back up in destruction. He tore the sheets off, removing the last neatly tucked in corner from its spot. Holding his trophy only for a brief moment before flinging it across the room. His tears he fought back finally won, streaming down his face silently. He refused to make a sob, refused to alert other of his pain. He didn't want pity. Not that they would notice anyways. Or care, apparently. His attention turned to the bookshelf he didn't finish clearing in his last rush of decimation. He stormed over to the shelves, clearing off the books one by one, throwing them across the floor. He suppressed the desire to wipe a whole shelf clean at once, or to hurl a book into a wall. As satisfying as it may feel, it would draw attention to his room. They'd just tell him to shut up again. Like they always do.

A few self destructive minutes passed, Logan stood in the middle of his room amidst the mess, panting slightly. He scanned over his room, almost admiring his "creation" for a moment, a bitter smirk crossing his expression for a brief moment. He trudged tiredly to his bed and let himself fall onto it, ignoring the pang of pain when his legs hit the wooden edge. He glared up at the ceiling and willed sleep to come over him.