The Logan Brothers

Chapter 5 - Disaster Strikes

Chapter 5 - Disaster Strikes

I was trapped. Grayson was blocking my path to the door, plus I wasn't looking forward to dashing through the house and having to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Logan how I got there. Jumping out of the window wasn't an option, although it was becoming more and more tempting by the second.

I couldn't tell him the real reason why I was here, the thought alone made it hard to breathe. My throat started to swell up and I swear I was seeing stars. How did I even get there? Letting go and having fun for one night had led to empty memories and a mistake that just kept on growing.

Grayson lifted his eyebrows, saying, "Well? Are you going to tell me why you're in my room, or do I need to call the cops?" His threat made my heart leap violently, and I sucked in an audible gasp. If Grayson was a normal human being, I would've dismissed his threat. But since he was the Devil's spawn, I knew he would do it.

"Don't," I breathed, wiping a hand over my face, "I..I came to see Wesley." Yeah, that was a good lie. I came to see Wes all the time, and in a way, that wasn't even a lie. It just wasn't as specific as the whole truth.

He chuckled, sitting down on his bed, "Since when do you climb up the ivy to see my brother? You haven't done that since you were eight." From his position on the bed, the way he lounged there without a care in the world, I knew he didn't think I would run. He was totally relaxed, like a lion toying with its prey.

And yet I could do it, I could sprint out of the door and through the house and never have to speak of it again. Even if I did get away, though, Grayson would catch me or torture me for the rest of eternity. I could tell him the truth, or I could continue to lie. Either way I would be subjected to endless torment for the rest of my life, at least if I told Grayson what was really going on Wesley would never find out.

After a moment's more hesitation, I caved, "Fine." With a hard face, I slowly leaned against the windowsill. Here goes nothing, "I have to get Wesley's phone. I think I left a message by accident last night and it needs to be deleted before he hears it."

Amusement was clear on his face, not more than a second later. He was trying not to laugh. "You accidentally left a message? What happened, we're you drunk?" That time, he actually did laugh. Hard. His head flew back, and he let himself lay on his bed as he chuckled long and loud. I was surprised when no one came to check on him.

Was it that absurd that I got drunk? Me, the girl who was always reading a book and going to bed before ten o'clock?

Okay, yes it was.

"Yes, I was drunk, okay? Now can I go and get Wesley's phone? Is he even here?" I asked, exasperated. This was why I never bothered to deal with Grayson. He made a joke out of everything, and more often than not he found his source of amusement at my expense. It was not amusing.

His face fell, "Wait, are you saying that Imogen Hanson actually went out and got smashed? You actually had fun?" Genuine surprise crossed his face, which hit a little close to home. Was I that much of a 'good girl'? Oh Lord, maybe I really was a nerd.

I scoffed, "I have fun all the time. You're just not around to see it because you're an ass." Bold words coming from my mouth, especially considering who they were directed to, but he was getting under my skin, and the itch to delete that voice mail was growing by the second. I was inches away from a heart attack.

Grayson reacted as if I had slapped him. For a brief moment, not even a second, I thought I saw the hurt flash through his eyes. An actual human emotion, something I had previously thought that Grayson Logan incapable of. Then, he smirked, "Babe, those books you read all day don't count as fun."

I frowned, wrinkling my eyebrows. "Maybe if you actually read a book you'd like it." Even I was shocked as the words came from my mouth, falling like bricks in silence. I never stood up to Grayson, because he could be especially cruel, but suddenly, I didn't care. I was more concerned with saving my friendship with Wes, which was becoming more and more endangered by the second.

"Meow, little Immy has some fight in her after all," He said, shaking his head. Taunting me, that's what he was doing. He was dangling a mouse in front of a cat, waiting for me to pounce. And actually, at that moment I was tempted to snap his head off. It would've been all to easy with my new, I-can-do-anything mindset.

I crossed my arms, "Are you going to let me go get Wes' phone or not?" Asking seemed a little bit stupid since he was making it perfectly clear he was going to be a douchebag and keep me here for the rest of eternity. Grayson was enjoying watching me squirm, and I was doing a whole lot of it. I was so anxious I could hardly stand still.

How the hell did I mix up the bedrooms? That one, tiny little mistake was costing me big time. If it wasn't for that, I would've been curled up in my bed, happily reading The Mortal Instruments. But no, I had to be an i***t and forget which bedroom belonged to my best friend. Honestly, sometimes I really did think I had a mental disorder.

Grayson rolled on his bed, jumping to his feet and landing inches in front of me. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. This particular Logan should've never been that close to me, especially not when I was leaning against an open window. I was just waiting for him to push me through it. "I could, but we're having so much fun here." He said.

"No, we're not." I deadpanned, trying to show no emotion on my face. They say animals can smell fear, and as far as I was concerned Grayson Logan was an animal. A skunk, or maybe a rat.

"Sure we are," He smirked, taking a step even closer. That did it, I was having a mental break down. My breathing quickened, and I shut my eyes with a whimper, leaning back as far as I could against the wall. Too close, too close, too close, I chanted in my head, feeling sick. Oh god, I was seconds away from spilling the contents of my stomach.

But where was the gutsy Imogen I had embraced moments before? The one who was willing to be a little bit sassy just to get what she wanted? Okay, maybe it was more out of desperation, but at that point, I would take was I could get. Shoving my arms out in front of me, I screeched, "Get away from me!"

But my hands only pushed away air, and my elbows locked with such a force I gasped in pain. There was no one there, Grayson was gone. My eyes flew open just in time to see Grayson at the door. He winked at me before slamming the door shut and running down the hall with booming footsteps.

It took me a second to process what had just happened. One minute he was terrifyingly close to me, and the next he was running away. That was definitely not like Grayson, he didn't back down or give in. He should've been there enjoying every second of my torture.

Unless...

Wesley's phone!

"Grayson!" I exclaimed, taking off at a run. Even though I was a fast runner, I was no match for Wes' brother. I knew that, but that didn't stop me from sprinting down the hall and stumbling through Wesley's open bedroom door. Wobbling on my feet, I took in the scene before me.

First of all, Wes was sprawled out on his bed, butt naked. He was laying on his stomach, one arm hanging off of the edge of the mattress and drool dribbling from his open mouth. At least he was face down, otherwise, I would really be seeing a lot more than I wanted to see.

Then there was Grayson, on the other side of the bed with an evil smirk on his face. Wesley's black iPhone was clutched in his hands, already dialing voice mail. I could hear the long, shrill rings vibrating through the air.

My heart clenched painfully, and I tried to cry out, but it came out as a croak. I sputtered and coughed, waving my hands frantically, trying to make Grayson stop. The lady was talking, saying there was one unheard message. I had seconds, maybe less, to convince Grayson to shut off the phone and walk away.

But what could I do? I was Imogen Hanson, the girl he hated, the girl he tortured. This was pure pleasure for him, he was enjoying this to no end and there was nothing anyone would say or do that would make him stop. That didn't stop me, however, from begging. "Grayson, please. Please don't do this."

But it was too late. My voice was already coming from the speakers, a little slurred and a little hard to understand, but it was me. Music was pounding in the background, so I knew I was still at the party. Maybe I had locked myself in a bedroom because the music sounded far away.

Then again, everything sounded far away.

"Hey Wessss, it's me, Imogen," I giggled, "Guess what? I'm at a party! Oh my god, I'm at a party! My mothers going to kill me...Yeah, I'll probably be dead with a fork in my neck tomorrow morning. Come find me, m'kay? I want a nice funeral. Make sure no one laughs, that's disrespectful to the dead." Another giggle and I felt like I was dying. The world was swirling in front of me.

"If I'm going to die, I want to tell you something. When you hugged me today, that wasn't okay. I mean, a normal hug would've been okay, but that wasn't cool, bro. You made me feel all weird inside, and now I feel like a freaking girl. My stomach clenches, and I get these awful butterflies that...

"Goddammit, it's happening right now! This is all because of you, Wesley, and I hope you're happy! I hope you're happy that you've made me have a crush on you, maybe even be in love with you. I don't know, okay?! I've never felt this s**t before and it's f*****g scary. You owe me, you better be feeling the same way or so help me-

There was a break in my voice, and I heard something crash in the background. There was a thud, and then the message ended with a click.

Holy mother Mary and baby Jesus, had I really said all that? Supposedly, the truth came out when you were drunk. Did that mean I had a crush on Wesley? Oh, and let's not forget I had dared to utter the L word. I felt sick, and my vision was starting to go black. I was going to pass out, and maybe I was even a little glad. That way I didn't have to listen to Grayson's laughter.

Wait, there was no laughter. I snapped my eyes up to Grayson, shocked when I saw he was actually scowling. Wesley hadn't moved or made a sound, so he was completely unaware of the ice daggers his brother was glaring into his back. If looks could kill, Wes would've been dead on the spot, no questions asked.

"You should go," Grayson growled, not even looking at me. His back was tense like he was ready to pounce, and I had a feeling if I left a fight would break out.

"But-"

"No buts, Imogen!" He roared, finally looking me in the eyes. A chill ran down my spine, making me shiver. No emotion was better, that way I didn't feel anything either. But now, he looked hurt, almost betrayed, and angry, angrier than I had ever seen him. "There, I deleted the f*****g message! Are you happy now? Get out of my house!"

Grayson's voice was scary, sort of like a drill sergeant, and anytime he yelled at you, you obeyed as fast as you possibly could. Otherwise, you were putting yourself in grave danger. Once you showed the slightest sign of defiance you were marked as dead, turned into Grayson's prey without consent. But my feet were rooted to the floor, I was frozen.

He threw a hand towards the door, "Go!" That did it. It was his loudest scream yet, making my ears ring and ache. My feet moved of their own accord, and before I knew it I was sprinting down the sidewalk, past my house, and down the street. I couldn't stop running, I didn't want to and I didn't know how.

With every second, with every step I took, I became more and more determined never to drink again. Not even on my wedding day, or my twenty-first birthday. My resolve was strong, I was determined that alcohol would never pass my lips. It made a horrendous mess of everything, more so then I had ever seen in my life.

That was saying something, too. There was this time when I was five and I decided to splatter paint my entire living room with all the colors of the rainbow while my babysitter was hiding in the bathroom, presumably texting her boyfriend. Needless to say, everything was ruined, and I had never seen my mother so furious.

But now my life was in shambles around me, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. Call me overdramatic, but I was very likely on the brink of death. Hell hath no fury such as Grayson Logan's wrath. There was no telling what he would do, or what he could do, for that matter.

Suddenly, I lost the will to run. I had sprinted all the way to our town park two blocks away from my house, and I wasn't accustomed to so much physical activity, so the full weight of my exhaustion was starting to hit me. It was almost impossible to breathe, although I wasn't sure if that was from the strain on my body, or anxiety over Grayson.

He would probably tell Wesley about the voice mail, that would be his first move. If I had to guess, Grayson would be aiming to shatter my whole world, - based on the sound of his voice - so he would go for the low blows. Due to my lack of good judgment, he knew how desperate I was for Wes not to hear that voice message.

I had climbed up his freaking house for Christ's sake!

Exhausted, I collapsed on a park bench. Little drops of sweat were sliding down my face slowly, beads of perspiration collecting on my hairline. My whole body was covered in a thin layer of icky mist, and I was fully aware of a group of teenagers giving me weird looks. I recognized them from my High School, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

Oh god, what if Grayson did tell Wesley? What if the second I had left the room he had jostled his brother awake and told the news? The freak Imogen thought she had a crush on Wesley, wow, it was newspaper worthy! At least then everyone could get a good laugh. I hadn't even stayed to properly check if Grayson really had deleted the voicemail!

I was starting to hyperventilate. Pulling my legs to my chest, I rested my head against my knees and forced myself to stop obsessing. There had to be a way to just get out of my head and calm down. I had to, otherwise, my health was in serious danger. If I kept going at that rate, I would've been in the hospital by the end of the day.

"Hey," I'll admit it, I jumped. It was just a small, timid voice, hardly more than a whisper, and I still jumped a mile in the air. The girl jumped back, too, letting the water bottle she had been holding fly. We were both still startled, too stunned to talk, so we just stared at each other like brain dead idiots.

The longer I looked at her, the more I recognized her. She had long, blond hair that stopped at her curvy hips, and big brown eyes the size of golf balls. Her nose was thin and pointed, and she had full, pink lips. She was pretty, in a non-traditional kind of way. I was pretty sure her name was Elsie, and she was in my English class.

Finally, she spoke, "I-I was just going to give you this, um, water bottle. You look exhausted and I just thought...Well, er..." If this was the girl I thought she was, it was a miracle she was talking to me. Elsie was shy, even more so than me. She was like a fly on the wall, preferring her books more than human interaction.

Okay, so maybe we weren't that different.

"T-Thanks," I stuttered, trying to shake off the tenseness that had taken over my body. I felt like I was suddenly eighty years old, it was so hard to move. It was probably because of the lactic acid running through my muscles, I really felt like I needed to stretch.

She smiled, "No problem," And then she skipped away like we hadn't just been talking. I blinked a few times, trying to process the strange conversation I had just experienced. Slowly, I reached down to grab the water bottle that had landed at my feet, wondering just what was wrong with Elsie's brain. Something must've been wrong because that was almost certainly not normal. Not even by my standards.