Pain

A New Day

That's a story I've been thinking about for a while. I spare myself (and you) the explanations for the story. I think it becomes very clear in the first chapter what it is about.

The story is mostly written from Logan's PoV.

Okay, let's go.

Lomillerusher

Logan

"Logan, wake up."

I hear the voice, but it's not strong enough to pull me out of my comatose state, also known as sleep.

"Logan, you have to get up."

I groan and turn on my side.

"Please, Logan, get up now. Otherwise Dad will get angry."

Dad ... angry …

I open my eyes. The pain in my head makes me dizzy.

"Here." Kiara gives me a glass of water and two painkillers. She already suspects that I'm hungover.

"Thanks." I swallow the pills and would like to lie down again. But my little sister has other plans. "Come on, get some clothes and take a shower. Hurry up." She leaves my room. I slowly get up, grab a T-shirt and trousers and go to the bathroom.

After taking a shower and getting dressed, I look at my black eye in the bathroom mirror. It still looks bad, the skin around it is still swollen. I can already hear the talk from the people at school. They will think that I drank too much at the weekend and then got into a fight somewhere … again. Not a particularly advantageous story. But that's still better than knowing the truth. This thought makes me cold and goose bumps spread over my body.

Dad and Kiara are sitting at the breakfast table. My sunglasses cover the black eye. Thanks to the silly rules at school it won't help me much, but it's worth a try. Dad reads the newspaper and pays no attention to me. Which is fine with me. Kiara keeps typing on her phone. She's probably exchanging text messages with Katie. I can hardly believe that she is already twelve. Soon she'll be a teenager. I don't like this thought. In fact, it scares me a little bit. To distract myself, I look at the set table, but the sight of the food makes me feel sick. I take a slice of toast and sit down. Kiara smiles at me and points to a brown paper bag that is on the table between the two of us. "I packed you some food."

"Thank you, sweetie," I reply, but don't look at her. Instead, my eyes are on Dad, who looks up from his newspaper for a moment at Kiara's words. Hatred and disgust are reflected in his eyes and I know very well that I am the reason for it.