It was over.

Hours and hours later, at four in the morning, it was finally all over.

Logan lay on the couch, limp, his cold naked body shivering against the cold air of the room as the events of the prior night filled his head over and over.

Things weren't supposed to happen like this.

Mr. Griffin had finally enlightened the brunette and for the first time, he was ready to accept the way he felt for Kendall with no regrets.

This was supposed to be the most amazing night of his life.

It was all supposed to feel like walking in a dream.

Instead he had lived through the worst of nightmares.

He began searching for something, something to calm his violent shivering but he found nothing but the clothes the older man had shed. Immediately things became too real again and he threw them on the floor, accepting his own physical ailment to avoid more emotional torment.

Then he heard the steps on the tile and realized that Arthur was approaching again.

Gritting his teeth, he allowed the tears to continue to stain his cheeks as he knew that the man was back to induce more rounds of torture.

Instead he heard the man stop right near the couch and the faint tapping of what he made out to be ice in a small glass.

He chanced a glance up, deciding to look at his attacker to try to guess what to expect from the man.

What he found were empty eyes again as the older man nursed the drink and stared forward.

"I think you should leave," he began coldly, still not looking at Logan, "I think we should forget any of this happened. Forget about tonight Logan. And I'll forget about the C.D. And let's forget we ever crossed paths."

"What" was all Logan could manage confused and upset mixing themselves into his already fearful set of feelings.

"Leave," was all the man responded, "leave or I will force you to leave."

And oddly, Logan felt as if he were the attacker. As if he weren't the victim and as if he wasn't the one just brutally raped multiple times. How dare this man.

How fucking dare him.

What did he think had happened, what delusion about the horrendous events of the night had taken over his thoughts.

"You heard me," he stated, putting his drink down and walking towards the brunette, "Leave. Get out of here you little slut."

"You…" the words wouldn't come as more tears prepared themselves.

"She would have fought back," was all Arthur could reply, disgust lacing his tone, "She was strong. She would have never let me hurt her like that. You're not anne."

"I'm a boy," he retorted, the bite in his tone not seeming even a bit strong.

Mr. Griffin looked at him with distain, "I shouldn't have tried to replace her with you. She would have never been so pathetic."

Logan felt sick as the man victimized himself, as his attacker reasoned out why Logan was wrong for his actions.

"Leave," he yelled this time, getting into Logan's face, "Leave and forget about all of this."

He grabbed Logan's arm and forced him upwards, grabbing the brunette's briefs from before and his own shirt. Forcing the clothing into the doe-eyed teen's arms, he opened the door and threw Logan out onto the concrete before swiftly shutting it and locking it into place.

The shock was still causing Logan to stay unsure of what was happening, but as soon as reality crashed in, all he could do was burst into tears.

He needed to get away and to someone … anyone … that could help.

He tugged his own undergarments on before putting the older man's large black shirt on, pulling it down so that it would reach to his mid-thigh.

The man had provided him with no pants.

The monster residing in that house had deprived him of all of his dignity and now he had the gall to not even offer the brunette pants.

But he couldn't go back.

What if he had gone back, angrily demanding something, anything to cover his bare legs and the man opened the door and shot him.

Or worse, opened the door, dragged Logan back in and forced him into another round of the forced intimacy.

If you could even call it intimacy.

The point was … there was no going back. He simply trudged forward, his body forcing him out of the drive way and into the busy scene of the nightlife in the streets ahead.

His heavy tears continued spilling down his eyes as he continued walking aimlessly in an attempt to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible. He didn't want to be in the man's grasp again and if it meant getting lost, then he would.

If he couldn't find his way, then Mr. Griffin wouldn't find him.

Now that he was away, he had a moment to really reflect on what had happened leading up to his –

He had time to reflect.

There was no need to even address what exactly had happened.

Arthur had been so kind and warm before, inviting him to his house, promising to accept his brother's demo, complimenting the brunette, bringing him a drink.

Fuck.

It was the drink.

Logan had gone to so many clubs, he knew all the tricks, he knew that you never accept a drink that you haven't gotten yourself.

Allowing someone else to handle your drink was an invitation for someone to mess with you and so, so often someone would. Whether it be for their own amusement or for much more sinister reasons, Logan knew things like that happened.

Now the whole night was starting to make sense.

Why he'd felt so out of character, why he'd been so flirty, why he'd let Mr. Griffin manhandle him so much during the story.

The haze in his thoughts, his own slurred speech, his slowness to react.

Arthur had slipped something in his drink.

The realization that the man had been planning his attack from the start of the night made Logan sick to his stomach and made him want to throw up, but he couldn't risk it at the moment.

He couldn't risk stopping to get sick while he was still escaping.

He began contemplating if the story of itself was even real or if it had all been a way for Griffin to buy time and allow the drug to dull Logan out till he was forced into submission.

No, it was real.

His sentiment in his words was too real to be faked and his sick disappointment after the ordeal ended helped the brunette to conclude that that part was real.

It didn't make it okay though. Nothing ever would.

Finally, after an eternity walking, he got to the rowdier part of the area and he began to feel some safety as more and more people began surrounding him.

The issue was, more and more people were surrounding him late at night into the early dawn hours, and he was starting to realize that this didn't look like the kindest crowd. He was surrounding himself with people, yes, but did they look very sympathetic of his current circumstances, no.

They'd see a pretty, young, lost teen boy with tears in his eyes, a pout on his trembling lips, and nothing but a large black shirt protecting his body from the cold.

Surrounding himself was feeling less like protection and more like invitation and fear started to fill his veins again.

Did he leave the atrocities of Arthur before just to face the atrocities of a different man now?

He heard someone whistle from behind him and he screeched, ducking down from fear that he was going to receive a blow from the stranger.

Instead he felt someone tap his shoulder gently.

"Hey, hey," the man said with a soft tone, "I'm not going to hurt you. I was just whistling to get your attention, okay?"

Logan looked up and saw the concerned look in the man's eyes; he knew it was a risk, but he decided to trust him.

"Tha-thank you," he released, forcing his speech to return as best it could, "thank you sa-*sob*-so much."

He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help but rap his arms around the man, hugging him for showing him some sort of kindness. Here was this man who knew nothing, but decided to show a random stranger kindness and this made Logan so unbelievably happy at the moment.

"Shh," he said, "calm down okay. Now … um … let's start from the beginning, why don't you have pants."

"Please," the brunette whimpered, still clinging onto the kind man's chest, "please don't ask me that."

He peaked upwards, hoping the man wouldn't question him about that further and after seeing the dawn of realization sweep over the man, he knew that nothing more would be said.

"O-okay," the man stuttered, lightly pushing the brunette off, "why don't we call the police?"

"No," he muttered, fear sweeping his features, "please, pl-pl-please don't sir."

His tears started to surface again, knowing that if the police came he'd be forced to give a statement and relive the horrifying events again. Possibly over and over.

The mere thought of having some critical man question him about the situation drove him over the edge and his crying returned, this time almost stronger than before.

He doubled over in pain, his sobbing wracking his body into convulsions and the man barely caught him as he began to tip forward.

"I don't know what to do," the stranger began, his face coated in nervousness, "should I go? I -,"

"No," the brunette moaned, "please don't leave me alone."

His speaking had been reduced to the point that he was scarred to speak more than the same phrases he'd already said of fear that any deviation in speech would trigger another violet emotional reaction.

"Alright, so you don't want to talk about it and you don't want to be alone," he seemed to be collecting his thoughts, "look, I need to get work but I can't just leave you here … so … why don't you come with me. You can just sit in the back till you're ready to leave or do whatever you need, no one will bother you for a while cause I manage the cashier by myself. Is that okay?"

"Tha-that's fine," he said, a feeble smile trying to grace his lips, "than-thank you so mu-*sob*-much sir."

"You don't have to call me sir," the man began to walk, beckoning Logan to follow behind, "my name's Mark."

"Hi Mark," the doe-eyed teen said as he walked slowly behind, his sore body not allowing him to speed up and get to the man's pace, "I'm La-Logan."

Mark noticed the younger man lagging behind and slowed down to catch up with his speed and the pale boy tried to make a smile to show his appreciation. He didn't mean to seem like it meant less than it did to him, but trying to display anything but intense pain and fear right now was proving much more difficult then he thought.

"Hey Logan," Mark said off-handedly, surprising the brunette, "I'm sorry."

And with that, they commenced the silence that would continue between them for some time … and yet, this silence was not an awkward one. It was comfortable. He needed this after all that had happened that day, and this kind man was allowing him this tiny little pleasure that gave him a respite from the waves of disgust that were sweeping his entire body.

The pale boy took a minute to really examine his current savior who was so nonchalantly walking along, not questioning the state Logan was in out of respect. He was Asian, with long, onyx bangs that fit against dark eyes; he was tall and was dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans and a leather jacket on top of a pale green t-shirt.

It must have been an odd sight for an outsider, this tall man in a leather coat leading the smaller man in nothing but a big black shirt walking along in perfect silence, one trudging and the other strolling, while the smaller one cried. For just a moment, the brunette allowed himself to be amused by these thoughts and to ignore the events of before; Mark looked back and caught it just in time, seeing the dazzling smile return to Logan's face for just a moment before melting away back to his expression of anxiety from before.

"Hey," the kind man said, smiling in response to try to see Logan somewhat happy again, "what were you laughing at?"

"Noth-Nothing," the doe-eyed teen said, giving a small grin, "It's just … we must look really weird."

"It's five in the morning," Mark responded, still working to get him to smile again, "if anything, we probably look normal."

They both examined their surroundings, a mix of hookers, perverts, and criminals, and here they both were, just trying to get passed the environment.

Logan couldn't help but giggle a little, taking in what Mark had meant; what made it even funnier though, and something Mark definitely didn't know, was that this was Logan's normal crowd.

Logan was a hooker, who more often than not slept with either criminals or perverts who needed a quick fix to their immediate desires.

"See," Mark continued, his smile brightening up the pale boy's mood more, "It's better to smile, at least while you're waiting."

"Waiting…?"

"I'm imagining – and correct me if I'm mistaken – but I'm sure there is someone out there worried about you," the tall man said, his bright smile from before simmering into something gentler, " someone out there waiting for you to come home."

Immediately reminded Logan of someone in particular.

"Someone probably thinking of you right now."

The duo stopped in front of small convenience store and Mark started to unlock the door, ushering Logan in and then entering after him.

"Hey Mark" Logan said while he waited for the man to enter, "ca-can I borrow your phone?"

He fished it out of his pocket and handed it to the doe-eyed boy; they both went separate directions, Logan heading to a corner in the far left while Mark went over to the cash register to unlock it and start the early morning's work.

His anxious fingers punching into the tiny keyboard at a ferocious speed, he inserted the number he had memorized into the black cell phone.

"Ka-Kendall," he began after he heard the other person pick-up, "I … I need you to pi-pick me up."

The response he heard was simple and it sent a wave of clarity through his person that he had desperately needed.

"Logan … where are you?"

A/N: Mixed reactions on the last chapter but most people saw it coming. Also i saw some very interesting suggestions. Thank you so much for all your comments. Please keep continue blessing me with your words of encouragement as well as your observations. They help me immensely in the writing process luvs! Xoxo