And Then There Was You [h.s]

Chapter Thirty-Six

Harry's P.O.V:

The next couple of days consisted of visiting the Moors, dining at fancy restaurants, and shopping profusely. My insisting to purchase a new jacket for Logan went right over her head, and she refused to let me. I couldn't fathom why she'd want to hold on to such an atrocious fashion statement, but at least she was beautiful enough to make it work. I'm sure by the time Logan finished promenading around the mall, all the girls who had eyed her up would quickly endeavor a search for a jacket that emulated hers.

Even in the wake of many good days, I knew we had been living in this bliss for too long. God had never granted us this much peace before. I awaited our downfall, and it soon came. My eyes opened at the thrashing of bedsheets beside me. "Mom, no," a weary voice called from behind. I turned slowly before reading the alarm clock.

3:16 A.M.

"Mom!" the voice called again, the bed mattress shifting from underneath me. I found Logan curled into a ball, her back facing my side of the bed. Her fists were knotted into the blanket, her eyes forced shut. A crinkle folded in between her brows at her distress, her chest heaving, and her body was shaking. Her whimpers pierced right through me, causing my heart to feel as though it was being burned at the stake. Her pain was my pain, and whatever terrifying dream was holding her captive now held me prisoner all the same.

 "Logan," I reached for her, my arms gently coaxing her from her nightmare. I needed to bring her back to me, though something told me she was long gone. "No, help her! No, not me!" Logan screamed. her arms clawed at my embrace, and her nails made their marks into my skin. I winced at the pain, my eyes focusing solely on the red scratches painted on my arms. "Logan! Come on, wake up!" I shook her, my voice frantic as I attempted to pull her back to shore. I tried to drown out my own worry, but with every second she spent calling for her dead mother, the harder it was to ignore. I thought we had finally sunk her past and brought her head above water. Yet here it was, resurfacing only to bring her back under. 

Eyes the color of an angry, unruly sea fluttered open, with tears threatening to tumble. "Logan," I breathed, my earlier thoughts becoming lost to the void. Behind the storm in her eyes, there was nothing. No life, no love — Just hurt and the anger that ensued from enduring such pain for far too long. She unlatched herself from my embrace, her body fearing contact as she pushed herself off the bed. 

"What's wrong? Logan, come here," I extended my hand, begging the vulnerable, fearful girl to come back to me. Her lips were parted as she panted heavily, her eyes widened and her feet still padding backwards. "Talk to me, please," I pled. Though she stood right in front of me, I could see her drifting far, far away. My hand reached for her wrists and she flinched, the storm that clouded her becoming more unruly. "Don't fucking touch me," she growled.

Not again.

Her walls rooted upwards, guarding the malice and fear that I had worked so hard to destroy. All it took was a few moments entrapped in the unconscious for Logan to regain her heartlessness. My earlier opinion of Logan was once again beginning to hold true: external forces reinforced the way she would live her life. Everything was due to chance and the universe's leniency on her life. She could never hold herself accountable; Instead, she blamed the events that made her this way.

I wouldn't let her fall back into old habits. She saved me from it a few days ago, and now it was my turn to return the favor. I only sought to protect her, to shield her from her own cruel intentions. Though Logan had many enemies, her biggest one was herself.

I kept my voice calm. "Please, baby. Come here. Don't shut me out," her head shook, and I couldn't tell if it was because she was in disagreement with my statement, or if she was trying to rid her mind of demons. "She was here," she spoke quietly, her words reserved for herself only. "Who?" I asked cautiously, even if I knew she wasn't directly speaking to me.