Redeeming Logan

Chapter Eighteen

Taliah

I don’t understand that man. One minute he has me laid out for him like a meal, and the next he’s like an iceberg. Tossing me into my room half naked, and still covered in blood. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to give in. Like he’s scared to let himself have me. Which again, I don’t understand why. I’m almost certain he doesn’t have a line of women knocking down the door to be with him.

I slam my head back against the steel door behind me. I haven’t moved since he made me see stars then tossed me away like I was an inconvenience. Looking down at my body, a shiver travels up my spine at the amount of blood that is plastered over my body. Now dried down to my skin and flaking off in places. My sweater is heavy and sticks to my skin, making me itchy. The coppery scent of the blood is long gone, leaving me feeling empty. I make my way to my feet, watching as flakes of red drop from my legs and float to the floor. Scattering like macabre confetti.

Dragging myself into the bathroom, I flip on the light next to the vanity, bathing the room in a bright light. A bloody monster stares back at me in the mirror. Her once blonde hair is tinged a reddish pink, dark red splotches marr her face, and clumping her eyelashes. Tugging my sweater up over my head is a challenge as it sticks to my skin, not wanting to let go. I let the blood-soaked garment fall to the floor at my feet. The design left behind on my skin where the blood soaked through, mixing with the thick thread of the sweater, leaving thick lines over my stomach and chest. I run my fingers through the marks on my chest, flicking off dry flakes of blood, watching them fall to the floor around me. A smile tugs at my lips as I reminisce on how I got this bloody in the first place.

The screams from the girl were so beautiful, and I’m not sure if I should feel that way. I think I should be horrified by what I have done, but I’m not. Her tears falling from her eyes as she yelled for me to help her should not have turned me on like it did. My stomach rolls as I fight with my feelings on how I should feel about these events. I have always been a good girl, laying low, following the rules, and not wanting to risk stepping out of line. As much as I hated my parents, I didn’t want to risk being taken somewhere else. I guess now it doesn’t matter if I’m good or not; I’m stuck in this hell for the foreseeable future. The attention that Logan gives me here and there makes it a little more tolerable at least. I wonder if he’ll let himself have me, or if I’ll end up like that girl too.

Letting out a sigh I turn toward the shower, stepping in, and turning the water on to hot. The steam almost immediately fills the room, and I’m grateful that at least they didn’t skimp on a nice water heater here. Standing under the spray, I watch as the blood runs from my body in rivulets, pooling at my feet, before running down the drain. Admiring it dripping from my body just like it did that girl. I can still picture it in my mind when the blood squirted from her chest when I sliced her nipple off. My heart beat speeds up as the sound of her screams echos through my head, and the sight of the blood streaming from her body coats her skin. The tingle between my legs is back, and it makes me panic. I should not feel this way. I helped kill that girl, and I didn’t feel anything. At least not the things that I should be feeling.

Quickly washing my hair twice, before I roughly scrub my body with the exfoliating mitt attached to the wall. Scrubbing my skin, making sure all traces of blood have washed down the drain. My skin turning bright red from the assault. Turning off the shower, I step out and grab a fluffy white towel from the rack. Harshly drying my skin and hair before throwing on the robe behind the back of the door. I yank a brush through my hair, working the knots out, before finally exiting the bathroom. Moving towards the closet, I pull out a black t-shirt nightgown and toss it over my body. It’s too big and hangs off one of my shoulders. Sulking as I make my way over to the window seat, wrapping a fluffy blanket around my shoulders, looking out at the night covered yard surrounding the institute.

As I watch the trees sway in the breeze, I see a flicker of movement on the edge of the yard. A dark figure jogging around the perimeter of the yard, careful to stay outside of the trees. They're wearing all black, and I almost missed them if it wasn’t for the reflection strip on their tennis shoes. I continue to watch them as they make their way around, and then they stop under the street light below my window. They stand there staring up at me, their black hoodie hiding their face, making a weird feeling erupt inside of me. The figure reaches up and pulls their hoodie back, revealing their face to me.

Logan stares up at me, a frown imprinted into his perfect face. His eyes, usually hard, are filled with something else, sadness reflected in them. We look at each other, waiting for the other one to do something, to break the trance, but I refuse to be the one who gives in this time. Logan shakes his head and then jogs up the steps to the institute, disappearing from view.