A/N: I had a dream about this, so why not turn it into a story?

*Warning* May contain triggering contents of abuse. Nothing too-too bad but still, Read at your own will.

Disclaimer: Don't own the BTR dudes :(

I woke up cramped and tried to stretch my legs. The room was dark and I was alone. I must've fallen asleep while trying to block out the noise. I ran to my sanctuary when I first heard the banging start. It was an all-too familiar occasion in this house. I rub my eyes and blink a few times, trying to wipe away the sleep. Pressing my ear to the door, I check to see if the yelling has calmed down. It has. I move the clothes aside on the rack and open the closet door. It's still sunny outside. I look out my window and see the neighbors outside. The Knights have a son about my age who is the most handsome being I have ever seen; captain of our school's hockey team, loved by everyone in the town. But he would never be friends with a freak like me. I start to get that feeling of self-pity in my stomach again and I leave the window. The clock says 6:30pm so I crack open my bedroom door. I walk down the stairs to the kitchen and look at the mess my parents have made. I start to pick up the pans and hang them back on the rack. I know what will happen if I don't. I pick up the papers and sort them out to see which are trash and which are important, which are my mother's, which are my father's. I pick up the chairs that have fallen on their sides and return them to their place.

"You okay kiddo?" my father asked me. He caught me off guard and I can't tell where the voice is coming from so I look like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. I try to avoid saying anything that could be used against me later on. My father comes out of the bathroom wiping his hands. He has scratches up his arms. I just looked at him not knowing what else to do.

"Why don't you go get washed up? I'll start dinner," he said to me. Immediately complying, I head for the bathroom. I turn the faucet on and soak my hands in the warm water. My mind seems to wander and I find myself analyzing every crack and crevice my fingers and knuckles possess. When I look up I get instantly disgusted. Who is that person looking back at me? Why does he look like that? What is his story? I add soap and rinse, and dry my hands on a towel. When I return to the kitchen my father has one of the pots that were just on the floor, on the stove with some water in it. It's not really a perfect circle anymore. I sit at the empty counter and just wait.

"It's gonna be a few minutes bud. Why don't you go introduce yourself to the neighbors? They're all out there," my father said.

"I don't know, do you think they'll like me?" I asked.

"Not until you introduce yourself," he said. I look out the living room window from my seat and see the kids running around their front yard. My legs start to move towards my front door as my mind mentally prepares myself for the humiliation I know is inevitable. I open the door, close it behind me and walk down the three stairs that hang from my front porch. Not knowing what else to do, I just stand there. Staring. Watching the kids run around chasing each other. I don't see him though. The one that makes my heart beat faster. I can feel it thumping loudly as I pictured him in my mind. Soft smile, kind of tall but not too lanky, always laughing, and those perfect hazel eyes that can see right into my soul. I envied everyone around him. The sound of a car horn pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Hello! Get the hell out of the way. What are you doing?" I was unintentionally blocking my mother's parking spot, that's what I was doing. I step onto the grass where I am safe from causing more problems.

"Take these inside, I don't want to look at your father's face," she handed me the grocery bags and I took them gently, so not to get her upset over something else, and brought them to my father, taking one final glance at the house across the street.

"Your mother's home I take it," my father said to me. I look at him quizzically. "Your face says it all." I manage to crack a smile slightly and that makes my father do the same. He took out a box of spaghetti and poured it into the pot.

"Logan, wash your hands before you handle food," my mother said, walking straight from the front door to her room downstairs.

"I already did," I responded. I bit my tongue instantly but it was too late. The words were already out. No going back.

"Excuse me?" My mother said, turning on her heel. I hesitated a bit but continued anyway.

"I had already washed my hands before you showed up," I said, trying to sound as composed as possible.

"Did I ask you when the last time you washed your hands was?" she asked, walking toward me. I looked at my dad who looked at my mom.

"No ma'am," I said.

"Go wash up," she snapped, grabbing my cheeks with one hand. I wait until she releases her grip and I head for the bathroom again. While washing my hands for the second time in about 20 minutes the only thing I can do is pray it doesn't happen again. That they don't fight again. Thankfully, when I return to the kitchen, my mother is gone. Probably to change in her room, to go hook up with her personal trainer. My father is outside watering the garden and there is only one plate of food and one drink sitting on the counter. I look at the clock. 7:03pm. My father's "leave me alone" time. I'm not allowed to talk to my father after 7:00pm. He claims I get too emotional and needy. Anything that happens after that time is on me, and it's up to me to handle it. I sit silently at the counter and twirl the noodles around my fork. Carefully, I slurp up my dinner, and gulp down the milk, listening to the ticking clock on the wall. I picked up the dishes carefully and placed them in the sink and turned the water on to rinse them. I look out the window again. The kids are gone.

"What are you doing?" my mother asked me.

"Just washing my dishes," I responded.

"It doesn't take ten years to wash a dish Logan. Are you gonna pay this water bill?" my mother's voice was rising. I think she was madder at the fact she couldn't get the earring in her ear but still.

"No, ma'am. I'm sorry," I said.

"Damn right you're sorry. Get upstairs," she ushered me out of the room and I hurried up the stairs. Once in my room, I close the door quietly and go over to my desk. I glance out the window and see him walk towards his house. When he turns to close his front door I see his beautiful face. For a half of a second my heart and mind are racing, my blood pressure rising. I can feel my ears and cheeks getting hotter by the second. And then he's gone, but it was enough to at least keep away tonight's forthcoming nightmares.

How do you think this went? More chapters to come. And if you're following "Don't Forget About Me," the last few chapters are on the way. Review?