Along the Horizon.

I sit on a small worn out love seat. My feet curled under me, with my shoes, Rachel's shoes, kicked off in front of me. I watch Logan pace back and forth. He would run his hands through his hair every few minutes as a nervous tendency. Logan's wrinkle free, button up dress shirt is now untucked and creased from his constant sitting and standing.

A very tired looking nurse came into the waiting room and asked for the family of Joan Wheeler. Logan halted, face blanched. I couldn't hear what the nurse was saying but from Logan's reactions it couldn't be good. He turned and motioned to me that he would be one minute then followed the nurse through a set of double doors.

Now I was the one that wanted to pace the floors, but I was frozen in place, unable to make time go any faster. I stared at the doors Loan disappeared from hoping him to return soon, safe, happy.

I am woken from my trance by a beep of my phone. Maybe it's Rachel, who could sense something is wrong with her best friend. It isn't though. It's my mom, the last person I want to talk to. She wishes me the best and to have fun. I know she isn't mad, that this is my way of dealing with things. Lashing out after I've bottled up my feelings for so long. She is probably thrilled that I have friends to go out with. I'm glad that it's not my mother that I'm waiting in the hospital for. I couldn't bare not have a father or a mother.

My heart aches, I suddenly feel the urge to make sure my mom knows that she is forgiven. I quickly dial her number and wait for her to answer.

"What's wrong Mags?" Her voice is full of concern.

"I'm at the hospital," I hear her gasp. "It's okay. I'm okay. Everyone is okay," I tell her the story. Not the part where I had full intentions of staying the night at a boys house. Instead I told her that Logan got a call while we were at dinner and I drove him to the hospital.

"Oh honey, is he going to be okay?"

"No, who would be okay in this circumstance?"

"You're right. You and Logan come back here tonight. It's probably not a good idea for him to be alone. I'll wait up for you okay? Love you baby, I'm so glad you are okay."

"I love you too, mom," I disconnected the phone. I couldn't believe that my mother was going to let a boy of my age sleep over night at my house. Especially a boy that I am seeing. At that moment Logan reappeared through the doors.

He looks shook up and heart broken. I could tell that he had been crying, his nose was slightly red as well as his cheeks and his eyes were glossy.

"Hey," I murmured softly.

"I bet you have a million questions right now."

I shake my head. "Just one that you need to answer, are you okay?"

Logan pulled me in close, kissing the top of my head before resting his chin on it. I nuzzled his chest, drinking him in. Oh I loved his smell.

"So much for staying the night together," he chuckled.

"I called my mom, and told her what happened. She wants you to stay the night."

"Really?" He held me out at arms length.

I nodded my head yes and he pulled me back into him again. "Well then, this night isn't ruined after all. Come on."

We stopped by Logan's house to pick up clothes. So far no word about what happened behind the doors. I don't know if his mom is still alive or what. I dismiss the thought altogether, i couldn't think like that.

The kitchen light was on when we pulled into the driveway. I gave Logan a small smile, I really should warn him about how my mom can be about wanting to comfort the wounded, but I don't.

Logan walks in first, I'm close behind him, ready to interfere with my moms prying questions. It's not like that though. My mother stands from her perched position on a bar stool and takes Logan into her arms. He suddenly looks much younger, almost childlike. I stood on the sideline looking at my mom comforting my boyfriend. She wasn't saying anything, she just pat his back, like burping a baby. My mom let go first, it seemed like Logan didn't want to, but he did.

"I'm glad you're here. Do you want me to make you anything?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though. And thanks for letting me stay."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she smiled softly. "I'm going to bed, night," she kissed my cheek before turning in for the night. All of the tension from this morning has dissipated between us.

After a few awkward moments I spoke up, "I should probably change."

"Me too."

"I'll show you where the spare room is."

I still felt weird after I said good night to Logan and changed into my nighttime attire. There were still so many unanswered questions. Of course I wasn't going to go snooping for information through Rachel. I would wait until he was ready to tell me what he wants me to know. I snuggled my lamb under the covers. I only slept with him when I was having a bad night.

I got an idea. I slipped out of bed, dragging my stuffed animal with me. I knocked softly on the spare bedrooms door before opening. Logan was sitting propped up by his elbows on the bed. He was shirtless, only wearing loose basketball shorts. The tattoo that I saw in the first fifteen minutes of meeting him, sprawled across his pectoral.

I almost skipped over to him, my heart in my mouth. "I have something for you. To sleep with," I sit down at the edge of his bed, my hands behind my back.

"I hope it's you," He pulls me to him. I'm laying with my body on top of his, head against his chest. I can see what his tattoo says now, I'm a survivor. Survivor of what? Oh I wish he would tell me.

"No silly. This," I bring my lamb into view. "But I like this too," I press myself closer to him.

"Well don't get too comfortable, I'd hate for your mom to wake up and find us like this," Logan chuckled.

"We'll put a sock or something on the doorknob so she doesn't intrude," I joke.

"Oh Ace, you make my shit night completely better."

Oh that name. I loved and hated hearing it. I think I like it when he says it though. I felt exceptional emotional today. Wearing my father's old button up shirt, seeing Logan react in such a violent way, my mom comforting him instead of me. I sighed deeply, rolling off Logan so I could curl around his side.

"I like when you call me that," I whisper. Logan didn't say anything. I assumed that he had fallen asleep.

I started to drift after awhile. I concentrated on Logan's constant breaths. "There were drugs in her system," He startled me when he spoke.

"Hm?" I sounded still in a sleep like comfort.

"My mom. She was high when Tom the fight broke out," His words caught my attention. He was going to start opening up, like I did.

"Does she get high a lot?" I asked. I probably shouldn't ask questions but I couldn't help myself.

"She is always high on some sort of drug. For awhile, I was like that too. I know what you mean by you're numb inside. That's why I got high, to feel that numbness," why would anyone want to feel this hollowness that I feel everyday.

"I was self medicating. I didn't know what was wrong with me. Sometimes I would be fine and myself, then there would be days where I just felt the need to die. That would go on for weeks, the agony and pain that came out of nowhere would suffocate me. I got into the wrong crowd and went straight for the hard stuff. My mom had became an addict when I was like twelve, so was always in supply for what I needed when I got those feelings. Sometimes I would be really happy though, so I would stop using the drug as much. Just enough to stop the crave, you know? Then I'd be myself again. Not happy or sad, just Logan. I was on this roller coaster of feelings and I just wanted it to stop. So I came up with a plan to commit suicide."

My heart had stopped and I wasn't breathing. Logan, my Logan tried to kill himself?

"It didn't work obviously. Rachel found me. I literally owe her my life. She called the squad and waited in the waiting room until I was okay. Turns out I'm bipolar. I went to rehab and so did my mom. We got clean. I went on daily medication and slowly I started becoming myself. Until a week before you showed up. My mom started back up on the drugs and started seeing that low life, dickless, asshole again."

I kissed his chest lightly, "You're a survivor, Logan Wheeler."