Twisted Love by Summer Cooper
16
Logan
It was the first night he’d stayed over at Keily’s in a while. He’d had a lot of conference calls to make to California, some repairs that needed sorting, and he’d spent a lot of time away from her because of it all. Being there beside her, her warm body tucked against his, was nice.
Logan fell asleep quickly, his body too tired from a week of meetings, late-night calls, and working around the house. He’d call someone to take care of the problems at the house, but repairing the broken tiles, the leaking faucets, and cutting down the tree that had blown over in a storm the week before was therapeutic to a man that lived a life of luxury and cold offices. Being able to use his hands for more than signing papers and typing was something he liked but didn’t get to do often anymore.
He found himself in the woods, blossoming to life in the spring warmth and filling his sinuses with pollen. He knew he shouldn’t be there, dread filled him, and he tried to turn away, to go back in the direction of his lonely home, but his feet propelled him forward. His brain screamed at him to turn back, but his feet refused to listen.
He was 18 again, his hands strong from the manual labor he did over the winter, shoveling snow, chopping wood for the elderly, and any other job he could find to do. He’d been preparing for the days ahead, days that would be paid for with scholarships and his own hard work. He’d need to eat, to pay for other living expenses, and he’d worked hard. But he’d wanted one last quiet walk in the woods before he took off for his new life.
Somewhere in his mind, he knew his graduation ceremony was the next day, and he was leaving the minute that was over with. He was done with this town and ready to get on with his new life. He should be at home, making sure nothing got in the way of him leaving. Instead, he was out here, in the woods, swatting at mosquitoes.
Branches and pinecones cracked under his feet, but he paid them little attention. There was somewhere he needed to reach, otherwise, his feet would turn around and take him back home, right? He heard a sound in the quiet woods, a laugh followed by the pop of burning wood. Now that he’d heard the fire, he could smell the smoke and his heart started to pound in his chest.
Apprehension was a cold fingernail that scoured down his spine as he walked closer, slowly as his feet decided to prolong this moment. He’d been here before, he knew that something terrible was about to happen, but even though his feet slowed, they did not stop. Each step took him closer, until he saw the orange glow of flames, and for a moment, the glitter as the flames bounced off a metallic keychain in the shape of a butterfly.
It was her keychain, the girl he’d had a crush on but never dared to speak to once they got to high school.
“Hey, who’s out there?” A throaty voice called out, slurred by alcohol or something less savory. More than likely imported beer. That’s what the guy and his friends liked, because the voice was familiar. He knew who it was and knew that he should get out of there. That asshole had been after him for years, though he didn’t know why.
Why didn’t matter, years of being tormented did and he tried to turn, but instead his legs bowed so that he could kneel down and watch. They were all there, all the bullies and the girlfriends, now taking part in a game of ‘find the asshole watching them’.
Sweat broke out over his skin and fear made it hard to breathe. Even if he could run away, could he run from that group? From all of them?
He slid down against a pine tree, not caring that pine sap was sticking to his clothes, gumming up his hair. Someone was running in his direction. He pulled his knees up to his chest, tried to control his breathing, hid his face down against his knees. Please don’t let them see me, please don’t let them see me.
But it was too late.
“Found the fucking perv!” A voice gloated out of the darkness. “I think he’s about to piss his pants too!”
There was a struggle, he felt branches digging into his skin on his stomach, then his back, the scrape of rocks against his knees, and he knew what was coming next. He didn’t want it to happen, but it happened anyway.
It always did, no matter what he did. He knew it was a dream and tried to wake himself up. Sometimes that worked, but sometimes, the memory of that horrific night would not end, no matter how aware he was that it was only a dream. The pain, the humiliation played out exactly as the night it had happened, without mercy or relief.
He heard female laughter as they dragged him out of the woods and into the clearing near the pond all the kids used to swim in, even if they weren’t supposed to. He remembered his parents’ warnings about snakes and leeches, but it was the other teenagers in town he needed to worry about. He’d known that all along, but that night made it crystal clear.
“What are you going to do with him? Don’t hurt him, he’s harmless.” That female voice, slurred from the beer she held in her hand, waved at him and he saw that flash again. Her keychain, reflecting the flames, wrapped around her wrist with a soft, baby pink stretchy band.
Fuck, he thought as the guys dragged him over to the fire.
“Well, if it isn’t the local nerd. Studying up on how to be a real man were you, nerd?” The voice he hated the most spat at him.
There were hands on him again, the girl’s voice rising in protest, and then more humiliation coursed over him like a hot flush. Time slowed, sped up, went backward a few times as the dream went on, reminding him over and over of the faint protests, the hateful names they called him, and the way he couldn’t escape. Even from the dream of it.
The girl shrieked in protest as one of the boys snatched her keychain from her wrist and held it over the fire with a stick. “We’re gonna teach this here boy to mind his manners, now ain’t we fellas?”
The accent was an affectation, none of them really talked that way, but the guy was having fun humiliating his prey. He felt hands where there shouldn’t be hands, then cool night air touched the bare skin of his buttocks. He was spread out on the ground, four boys at his shoulders and the backs of his knees, pinning him to the ground. Then a burning pain as the scream he’d tried to hold back finally broke loose from his chest.
Logan jerked up in the bed, covered in sweat and worried he’d actually screamed out loud. Keily slept peacefully next to him, her hand tucked under her cheek while she rested on her side, her face away from his.
He looked down at her, at the angel that she was, and tried to banish the memory. He reached out to touch her, in the hopes that would work, and stroked a lock of her blonde hair. She was the epitome of what all those old masters of artwork painted, from her sweet smile to the wide, guileless eyes. Well, they weren’t always sweet and guileless, but in sleep they definitely were.
A feather-soft touch of her cheek, a peck at her bare shoulder, and he still felt no comfort. He wanted to wash away the shame he’d felt that night, because it wasn’t only a dream. It was a very real memory, a fact he hid from her even now. She’d felt his ass, but she’d never seen it. She never would, if he could help it.
The knowledge was always there, even when he didn’t want it to be, that he’d been weak that night, that he’d been assaulted but had done nothing about it. He’d run home, put some antibiotic ointment on the burns, the scratches, then applied bandages as best he could. The next morning, he’d stuck to his plan, not willing to let even total humiliation stop him from getting out of that place.
Over the years he’d filled his life with strength, confidence, and chosen a path that led to him heading a company that specialized in self-defense. He knew that night had put him on that path. He had those assholes to thank for who he’d become in a way. There’d always been a plan in place, a plan that would take him away from his old life and give him a new one, but that night had focused him on self-defense and ensuring others could do whatever they could to help themselves.
That was one of the reasons he quietly donated some of his products to shelters and schools. He wasn’t just out to make a buck, but to really help people.
The reminder was just another attempt to kill the memory that didn’t work. With a sigh, Logan left the bed, put his clothes on, and left Keily sleeping. He didn’t leave her a note or send a text, he just left. He didn’t want to be around people once the nightmares started. And one night was all it took for him to endure weeks of insomnia, afraid because he knew what would happen the second he hit that sweet spot of sleep where dreams started.
The drive back to the house was quiet, uneventful, so peaceful that he almost went back to sleep. He was tired, he needed the rest, but he knew what waited for him in dreamland. Years had passed since he’d last had the nightmares. They came when he was troubled, worried about things he couldn’t say out loud.
The situation with Keily made his thoughts volatile, left him open to his brain’s gleeful torments. No, it wasn’t her fault he was so lost in her that it scared him, that he couldn’t make himself give her up. But he knew that she was the reason he was all twisted up in knots. A run on his treadmill might clear his thoughts, might help him to get back to sleep. It used to work, sometimes, making sure he was too tired to dream.
He ran for miles on the treadmill, until he could barely stand under the splash of a quick shower to soap the sweat away. While he ran, he played music that usually soothed his thoughts, calmed him down, but he had no idea if any of it would really work. And he knew that apprehension made all the work he’d just done useless, even as he closed his eyes, too exhausted now to keep them open.
It started off as a sensual dream, a dream that was really enjoyable, a dream about the woman he wanted so much he couldn’t get her off his mind. But her seductive smile turned into something twisted, into something nasty as she clamped a hand around his dick and pulled him to the ground from his bed.
He felt, again, the sting of twigs digging into his stomach and cheek, and then came the laughter. That incessant, stupid laughter that he couldn’t forget. All of them laughed, all of those guys, as they tore his pants down under his ass cheeks. For a moment he’d been terrified, he’d known true fear, felt it as he bit his cheek, trying to hold back a scream. Why had they taken his pants down?
What were they going to do?
It became clear when the one with the stick held the glowing metal in front of him. A brand!. This was his punishment for taking a walk at night, for trying to hide from them when he figured out they were near. This was what happened when you followed the rules and there was nothing he could do about it but try not to scream.
The scream didn’t wake him up this time, he lived through that pain again, the distant laughter that he could hear through his own shock and need for air, air that was strangled in his chest. They’d drifted away, finally, one by one, leaving him there on the ground like a broken toy. He heard female protests again, the mention that he needed help, but a growl to shut up made the girl do just that.
Sitting for graduation the following day was his next humiliation. Trying not to let on to the others around him that he was in excruciating pain had been a monumental task, but he’d done it. Later, as his parents headed back to the house, Logan had driven away, his ass on fire, his soul in shambles.
He knew he should probably stay off his bottom, that he shouldn’t be driving, but he wanted as far away from that living nightmare as he could go. He woke up as the sun rose in his dream, a new day shedding light on his blank gaze and flaccid face.
Logan’s eyes opened as the sound of the alarm broke through even the last remnants of the dream. At least he had work to help get him through this. If this was the start of a new dose of hell for him, he could bury himself in work. He could keep Keily and those memories off his mind.
He stared into the mirror as he shaved that morning, seeing a handsome face, a face that men and women both drooled over. But behind that face was the young man that had been too weak to protect himself from bullies, that was too weak now to let go of a woman that wasn’t meant for him.
Keily was meant to be a wife, a mother even. Motherhood would suit her, though he’d have never guessed that all those months ago when she walked into his office. She’d been too selfish back then, too self-centered and egotistical. Too hard to show love. Now?
Keily was a new woman, the kind that could be maternal, that could give love, that wanted to give love desperately. He’d seen it in her eyes when she wasn’t aware. He didn’t deserve her love. Didn’t want it, he reminded himself as he finished up with the shave. Men like him weren’t meant for love and marriage.
Fucking and moving on, that’s what he was meant for and somehow, he had to find a way to break it off with Keily. Find someone with eyes as cold as hers used to be. Someone that could match his black soul with the blackness of their own. Someone that definitely was not Keily.
