Chapter 48

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A/N: Hey, look at me writing 2 chapters in 1 day. I wanted to write this one right away. I went with It's Alright by Mother Mother, it's a beautiful song, check it out. Also, just a disclaimer, this chapter might be triggering to you, I tried to make the actual event pretty vague and short for that reason, but you can skip the chapter if you need to, it talks a lot about suicide and I don't want anyone being put in a bad place because of it. That being said, enjoy the chapter and have a great night or day.

Logan wasn't sure what he was doing, what he was going to do. He paced around his room for a few minutes, his head felt foggy and scattered. He thought maybe he could call Oliver. You think he'd back you up? Really? He's against you just like everyone else. He wants you gone. There was nobody else who knew, nobody to tell or talk to.

He slid down against his bedroom wall, balling his fingers into fists, his head hitting against the wall quiet enough to not be heard. He needed a way out of this. He couldn't run away, they'd find him, he didn't know how to live on his own anyway, he couldn't go to Oliver's house, he couldn't go to Ivy's house, her mom would call his dads. There was nowhere to go or hide, he was trapped.

He bit his lip, looking to his bookshelf. He got up, searching through books, trying to find the one he'd hid his razor in, finally stopping when he flipped through the pages and saw the glimmer of metal. He grabbed it, tossing the book to the ground, rushing to the bathroom, closing the door and getting in the shower. He wasn't really thinking he wanted to kill himself, he just needed to calm down, he needed to feel better, there was too much going on and as much as he'd worked to stay clean, he needed this.

His hands were shaking but the blade felt so cool and familiar in his grip, so controlled. What happened next was a blur, once he'd started he couldn't seem to stop until he realized how light-headed he felt and he turned off the water, trying to stop the excessive bleeding but it wouldn't stop and he let out a shaky breath, realizing how terrified he was. He couldn't die yet, he didn't want to die yet. It'd destroy his dads. What would happen to Oliver? Would his friends be okay? He couldn't think straight, his head felt fuzzy and heavy, he couldn't get up. He took a breath, wiping a tear off his cheek.

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Matthew sighed, running his fingers through his hair. It'd been a long day, he'd planned to come home late but had dropped work to deal with the current situation. When he'd heard that Logan had been collecting pills, meaning he obviously hadn't been taking them, he'd been concerned, but nothing could have prepared him for the moment he flipped through the journal and saw the weeks and months of numbers listed. He knew he hadn't been paying very close attention to Logan's eating habits, but he didn't know he should have been. He spent so much time sitting at the table, flipping journal pages, wondering what he could've done about any of it. Then Allen had come home and they'd talked about it, coming to the conclusion that Logan should be sent back to therapy or hospitalized because it'd worked the first time, well, he thought it'd worked the first time.

He drank his tea, setting his glasses on the table to rub his eyes. He had no idea how to fix this, how to keep his son safe. Leaving it alone and letting Logan deal with it by himself like he seemed to want to wasn't an option, he needed real help.

The door opened and Allen walked in, seeing Matthew and the empty chair next to him.

"Where's Logan?" He asked and Matthew looked up at him, looking exhausted.

"He went upstairs to get ready for bed." He said softly and Allen's face fell.

"You let him be up there alone?" Allen asked and it seemed to register to Matthew and he got up, but Allen was already running upstairs, throwing Logan's bedroom door open, trying to force the bathroom door open, calling Logan's name. "Call 911." He said to Matthew who pulled out his phone, typing in the number quickly.

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