13
Logan
“Fuck. Fuck, man. I’m sorry…”
I walk in circles, trying to fight the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm me. I edge closer to the door that separates me from Lia, resting my head against the cool wood. I want to be with her. I want to grieve with her.
“I have to go, Damien.”
“Wait. I need to tell you something else. Something very important. Please.” His usual sarcasm is replaced by urgency.
“What now?” My voice sounds just as weary as I feel. “What can possibly be more important than… Jane?”
It hurts to even say her name.
“You told me Lia had a violent moment.”
“Yeah, but she’s off the Memoril. It’s going to get better.”
“No, Logan.” Damien’s voice grows hard. “No, it won’t. It won’t get better—it will get worse.”
“What? But I don’t understand…”
“I told you, I spoke to Campbell. Violence is a side effect. Does she have moments where she gets confused? Where she can’t remember things that have happened?”
“I mean, yeah, but…”
“She’s had that drug in her system for years, Logan. Now she’s gone cold turkey. Campbell said it could really fuck with her. Leave her with damage.”
“Yeah, I know what cold turkey means, Damien. But I’ll help her through it. I’ll…”
“It’s not that kind of damage. Not the temporary kind, I mean. Campbell thinks it could be… permanent.”
I freeze.
“What do you mean, permanent?”
“I mean, if she’s having memory lapses now, it’s just going to get worse.
And if she’s violent now, it’s going to get worse too.
Until she no longer remembers a thing, and until all she is is violent.
Eighteen years of Memoril, Logan. That kind of damage can’t be fixed.
Apparently the Price Syndicate were trying to develop an antidote, but we bought them out before they could.
And Campbell says he doesn’t believe for one second they could have managed it anyway. She’s fucked, man.”
“No.” Panic makes me lightheaded. “No, that can’t be right. That can’t be right, Damien. I’m not losing her again.”
“I understand how hard it is,” he murmurs.
“No, you don’t. And it’s not true. I told her I was going to fix her, and that’s just what I’m going to do.”
“Okay.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t insist. “Logan, you need to focus on what’s happening now. What’s happening now is that Lia’s violent…”
“No, she’s not.”
“She tried to end you with a bazooka, didn’t she?”
“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t matter. She didn’t, and I can take a bazooka, anyway. I can handle it, Damien.”
“Right. Sure. I mean, you’d just die, but…”
“That’s fine. I deserve to die, anyway.” My voice breaks.
“Yeah, well, given how much you’ve gone behind my back recently for her sake, I’m pretty sure you don’t want Piper to die.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to answer.
“And that bazooka wouldn’t only have killed you, would it? The whole fucking place would have been blown to smithereens.”
“Damien, I…”
“And she didn’t shoot this time, but she could have. Right?”
“I…” I suck in a few breaths. “I won’t let her. I won’t let her have any weapons or anything. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t sound convinced.
“Well, what would you do?” I question desperately.
“I’d probably keep her trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey.”
“Damien!”
“What? There’s no way you can keep an eye on her all the time. Where is she right now, for instance?”
“Oh.” I pause, the words sinking in. “Fuck!”
This time, I do throw my phone, though it’s out of panic, not anger. Then I open the door, or try to. It’s locked.
“Fuck. Lia!”
I can’t hear a sound inside. I know she didn’t leave the room. There’s no other door but the one I’ve been posted outside of.
“Lia! Open the door, please!”
Nothing.
Terror seizing me, I kick the door repeatedly, until it gives way with a loud cracking sound.
Lia’s standing in the center of the room, turned away from me, wearing only the t-shirt and panties she went to bed with. And in the reflection of the mirror, I see she’s holding… a pair of scissors.
Fuck!
She’s positioned the scissors so the tip is pointing at her stomach. She holds it about two feet away from her, before slowly but surely… driving it in.
“Stop! Lia!”
I rush at her, latching onto the scissors with one hand, but she’s surprisingly strong. I don’t even think before I shove my other hand between her and the blade, shielding her from it as she pushes it in.
Sheer adrenaline keeps me from feeling any pain at first. I see blood dripping down, and whip her away from me, my eyes not even meeting her glazed-over ones. I rip off her shirt, searching for any sign she’s injured.
But the blood comes from me.
Relief floods through me, relief mixed with excruciating pain. I fall to my knees, biting down on a cry.
“Logan? Logan?”
The strangled noise that leaves my lips must startle Lia back to reality. She stares at the scissors, then at me. Then at my hand, from which the scissors jut out.
“Oh… oh god… what happened?”
“Nothing, Lia. Nothing.” I pull down on the hem of her shirt, pushing her down to the floor in front of me.
“I hurt you, Logan. Didn’t I? Oh, god, I hurt you… I don’t remember… hurting you…” She lets out a sob as I rest my face against her bare stomach and breathe in the flowery scent of her skin. And then, I pull her panties down, and lie wearily down over the space where her thighs meet her stomach.
“I don’t remember!” she cries. “I don’t… remember…”
Just before I pass out, I hear voices behind me.
“If this keeps up, it’s going to cost a fortune in doctor’s bills.”
“Mama! Papa! What happened?”
Fear once again rises to the fore, when I remember Damien’s words.
That bazooka wouldn’t only have killed you...
I manage to force aside the dizziness just long enough to grunt, “Quill… I need you to tie Lia up. Promise me, Quill…”
A sharp intake of breath is all I hear before I pass out.