C H A P T E R   18 :   G A M E   O F   S U R V I V A L

"I can see, see the pain in your eyes
Oh, believe, believe me and I have tried
No, I won't, I won't pretend to know what you've been through
You should know, I wish it was me, not you

And it's the fight, and the fight of our lives
You and I, we were made to thrive
And I am your future, I am your past
Never forget we were built to last
Step out of the shadows and into my life
Silence the voices that haunt you inside"

I woke up abruptly, tears running down my face and sweat down my skin. I was breathing with difficulty, but fortunately Bianca was a heavy sleeper and she didn't notice anything.

I moved to get up and winced, looking down at my hands. There it was again, pain like needles stuck underneath my nails. The tips of my fingers were hurting bad, and my cat claws were out, my sheets ripped. My heart was bumping furiously and I could still see his face so clearly. I could still feel everything: the pain, the fear, the rage.

Because it hadn't been a nightmare. No. All my nightmares were simple reflexes of reality. It was a memory from my past, one of the most painful, one I tried to suppress for so long and was now shattering the surface.

I knew I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep again, nor did I want to, so I got up as silently as possible and went to the bathroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, hoping a normal routine would help me clear my mind. It still wasn't enough, so I walked out of the room and started wandering through the mansion. I didn't want to go outside, so I went into the attic.

I had never been there, but it was a silent, isolated place. It was slightly stuffed with furniture and boxes, but I didn't mind. I started walking around with my sight guiding me in the darkness, my fingers touching old chest of drawers and wooden desks. I needed an anchor to reality; as long as I had something to keep me in the present, nothing would drag me away from it and into the past.

It was then that I heard heavy steps climbing the stairs, and my brief moment of serenity quickly vanished, replaced by an irrepressible fear.

I can't believe this is happening again, I thought, my whole being out of order. I couldn't think nor feel straight, a single chill running up my spine. They're here. They came after me and found me again, because no matter where I escape to, they will always find me. They will never leave me alone. They came to finish what they left uncompleted.

Only this time, I wouldn't let them. They had gave me the tools to fight, and I was going to turn that against them.

Instead of running away, I moved silently towards the door, and grabbed the person as soon as they took the last step in the stairs. I pinned them against the wall swiftly and harshly, giving them no time to react, my claws pointed at their throat, ready to taste some blood.

"Is this revenge for the last time?" I heard him ask and I felt like my heart was going to stop from the wave of relief that invaded me. Coming to my senses, I focused on my night vision and finally recognized the man in front of me. I made my claws retract easily, but my fingers didn't move from his shirt. I needed another anchor and right now it was him.

"Sorry, I thought..." My voice was fragile, devoid of its usual feistiness. "I thought you were someone else."

I'm going crazy, I'm seeing them everywhere. I'm so afraid they will come back to get me, that they'll drag me away again... I might have escaped them physically but I'm still attached to them mentally.

Logan frowned, his eyes analyzing my state. I didn't like to be studied, but with him I didn't mind. He always did it in such a different way. I wondered what I looked like to him and tilted my head to see him as well. In the dark he looked different, but not like a deer caught in the headlights. More like a wolf howling at the moon.

"It's just me, Felicia." He said, his voice holding the power to reset my whole system. I relaxed slightly, and felt grateful he didn't ask me who I was talking about. "Can I turn the lights on? I don't like to see you as if you were a prey in the forest. I don't like to feel like I'm your hunter."

Despite everything, I smiled. Logan was like the small candle people lit during a huge storm. He made me smile when I wanted to cry and shout when I wanted to whisper and live when I wanted to die.

He shaped impossible into I'm possible.

"On the contrary, I'm enjoying imagining you as my prey. We're in a forest, and it's dark, and I'm the hunter who'll kill an animal and take out its heart just to save your own."

I didn't know what I was saying, or why. So late at night and surrounded by darkness, this moment felt a little surreal. It made it easier being truthful, because it didn't feel connected to reality. But I knew it was. Somehow... I had never felt so real, so me beside Logan.

He rolled his eyes and groped the wall behind him carefully, as if any movement could make me snap, until his fingers reached a lamp, and a suave, non-aggressive light filled the room. He was being thoughtful of me; something I had not done when it had been him in my position.

"There. No need to rip hearts off." He offered me his half smile, but it felt like he was offering me its whole. Only then did I realize I was still grasping his shirt in my fingers. I looked down at them. So did Logan. "Are they hurting you?"

I knew what he was talking about. "No... not right now."

"I know you think your claws have a life of their own." Logan declared. "But in reality I think they're just reflexes of what's going on in your subconscious. Like materialized dreams."

"Or nightmares." I added, but nodded in agreement and stepped away from him, my fingers wincing a bit at the absence of his touch.

"I can go away if you want to be alone." He said very quietly. He was reticent; I didn't know if for being here with me after our discussion that afternoon or if for the possibility I might send him away a second time.

"No." I said quickly. "Maybe I should go..."

"Or maybe you should stay." Logan replied. "Maybe we both should."

I nodded, relieved. I didn't want to be with people. I didn't want to be alone. Being with Logan was somewhere in between. He was the line dividing those two poles.

"Are you sure you want to be alone with me here?" I asked, looking down at my attire. I had changed from my pyjamas to a pair of black lace-up leggings and a dark blue top. Logan had his usual white tank top on matching some grey sweatpants and a grey hoodie. I couldn't help wondering if he used so much grey because of his love's surname.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of getting in trouble."

I let out a light chuckle.

"I'm afraid of getting you in trouble."

"Don't worry about me."

That's asking too much of me.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned instead as he moved away from the wall to close the door of the attic. I knew it was an innocent gesture but that didn't stop my body from going ablaze.

"It's one of the many places I go to when I can't sleep. Never encountered anyone here before, though."

"Truth to be told, you never encountered anyone like me before." I told him, but not sassily. My voice came out fractured as my past invaded my present. I pressed my back against the wall and let myself slip down until I was sitting, my arms pressing my knees against my chest. I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear inside myself, but I had a feeling Logan wouldn't let me do it. He seemed resolute on finding me and bringing me out of myself, and I was tired of denying him that.

"You're right." My head shot up when I heard his voice so close. He had sat next to me, his head resting against the wall. He didn't seem scary at that moment. He seemed terrifying. When it came to Logan, everyone remembered his claws but no one ever gave much thought to his heart. But he had one. One worth believing in. "I haven't."

I bit my lip, my stare on the ground. Our bodies weren't touching anywhere and yet I felt my skin boiling with his closeness as if I had a fever. I wondered if at least some part of him felt that way too. I wondered which disease had these symptoms.

"I've never met anyone like you before, either. And I don't think I will after."

"That's good, right? God save us if there are two Logans in this world." Logan repeated my previous words and I hid a smile against my arms that were clutching my knees. I recalled our discussion that afternoon. Logan and I were like that. Up and down on a seesaw.

"On a scale of one to ten, how mad were you at me this afternoon?" I questioned, without the courage to look up at him.

"Thirteen."

This time I raised my head to find his eyes, my lips forming a smile without my consent.

"So your favorite hobby is turning my words against me?"

"No... my favorite hobby is turning your words to benefit me."

I laughed. I liked how we were talking now. I liked how we didn't always had to be at each other's throats. I liked how we could tease without feeling teased.

"Maybe I should keep my mouth shut from now on, then."

"That would be a loss. Even when you drive me mad I like hearing you speak."

My eyes widened a bit. Apparently, I wasn't the only one being more truthful than usual. I decided this was the best time to make up for my errors.

"I'm sorry." I said, not hiding my sincerity. "About earlier... I still have trouble accepting help and dealing with kindness. I've always been a suspicious person but after Dyani... I just don't want more people to turn their back on me."

"I understand," Logan said, his fingers drumming on his knee. For some reason my mind decided to ponder on how they would feel like. On how my body would react to an intentional, slow touch instead of an accidental, fleeting one. "I am like that too. I used to reject everyone that approached me, because I felt like each hand that was handed to me would end up strangling me."

"Still... I shouldn't have insulted you."

"True, but I think we both overreacted. I don't know, I was so mad... I guess when I'm with you I have a hard time controlling myself."

I felt my cheeks burning like I had chili in my mouth. I knew there was no double meaning behind his words, but I couldn't help it. Control was a word that Logan erased from my dictionary and the mere thought that I could do the same to him...

"So I guess... I'm sorry too." He continued, oblivious to my turmoil. Thank God Logan was a body listener and not a mind reader, because while the former was perfectly disciplined, the latter was perfectly restless. "If I was suffocating you."

I shook my head.

"You weren't, it's just... it's easier to push people away than letting them in. You want to help me and I reject it because I feel I'm not worth it. I always feel afraid of what people will see inside of me."

"I think you're more afraid of what you will see inside of you."

"Maybe. I'm working on that, though. It's just... I'm afraid of disappointing and being disappointed. Of hurting and being hurt. I guess it's easier just being a disappointment from the start, the pressure is much smaller."

"What pressure?" Logan inquired, frowning.

"To be liked, I guess. I've always had people wanting me from something other than my heart."

"Well, those people didn't deserve your heart either."

And mine might have just skipped a beat. Or two.

I buried my face in my arms while digging up my courage. Then I looked up at him again, swallowing under the weight of my decision.

"Can I tell you a story?"

Logan raised his eyebrows.

"As long as it's not Snow White or some other shitty fairytale."

"Believe me, it's not a fairytale. Not when the protagonist is me."

His eyes widened to the moon and I saw his Adam's apple going up and down beneath his skin. All jokes left his face as seriousness took over the job. "Felicia... are you sure?"

I was. I just didn't know if I'd be able to do it. I wasn't afraid of showing weakness; Logan had witnessed some of my worst moments in this mansion and he never saw me any differently. Somehow, I trusted him. I trusted him more than anyone else in here.

"Yes. I need to get this out of me, keeping it inside is what's suffocating me. I think I will only be able to move on if I share it. Maybe then the demons will be less heavy to carry." I stated. I felt like my throat was tied in a knot not even scouts would be able to undo; my mind was wrapped in itself and only by talking with someone could I unfold it and see if there was something left to work with. "That is... only if you want to listen, of course."

"Don't you remember what I said? I like hearing you speak."

I smiled, knowing that was his way to tell me to go on.

"I came here because I had a nightmare." I started, my voice almost inaudible for normal ears. Both my mind and heart were in a race against themselves, even though there really wasn't a finish line. "A nightmare about the night everything changed."

"A real memory, then?"

"Yes. I'll get to it eventually, but since my life has never been easy, I'll start with the moment I think made me realize my life was far from those tales I used to read foolishly. When I was seven years old my mother was diagnosed with cancer."

The air around us became heavier, thicker, as if I was already spraying some demons into the atmosphere.

"I remember going to visit her at the hospital, bringing dolls along so she could play with me. It was really though, seeing my mother in a bed without being able to help her or ease her pain. I started drawing a lot because watching me made her happy. I drew her healthy and strong in idyllic scenarios, hoping they would come true. But I wasn't God; there really wasn't much I could do. I felt powerless already and I was but a child who knew nothing about the hideous side of the world. It had been hidden from me until then."

"It should have stayed that way for much longer."

"Unfortunately, we don't get to choose when we grow up."

Logan nodded.

"Charles told me you drew, but I had no idea it was at such a deep level."

"It is... art reminds me of my mother because she was the first masterpiece in my museum. It's one of the reasons drawing hurts me so much. It connects me to what I lost, but doesn't allow me to get it back in the way I want to. It's been my refuge but it hasn't always been peaceful. Sometimes it's so tortuous I become its refugee; and it's always passionate, but every so often it's more pain than pleasure."

"Still, it's admirable. How you can carve beauty out of agony."

I thought back to the sketch I had made of his claws holding a heart. I wondered if that was what his words meant.

"You're making your demons work for you, instead of letting them boss you around. That's good. That's what I want you to do with your fighting."

"I'm trying, professor Logan."

"No, not professor. Just Logan."

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's new."

"Just continue your story."

I liked this about Logan; he wasn't soft on his words or actions, because he knew I could handle them. He didn't see me as glass on the verge of falling and breaking; to him I was sand that could be anything if I sculpted myself right.

"I remember feeling lost, hearing the doctors talking, but not understanding. I knew my mother was dying and I had no other choice but to slowly let her go, but it was hard for a child to accept such thing. I think I started accumulating lots of rage at that time, unhealthy amounts that only came out many years later. I was watching her die day by day... each day I woke up hoping she would get better, each night I went to bed crying because that hadn't happened yet. Every time I had to leave her she told me she loved me, afraid it would be the last time. One day... it was."

Logan didn't say anything, and I felt grateful. Some people felt the need to fill in the silence with comforting but empty words. He didn't, and maybe it was because he knew his stare and proximity comforted me more than any word ever would.

"My mother's death hurt a lot, but because I didn't quite understand the world I didn't quite feel everything either. How can you suffer with something if you can't grasp its dimension? I believed I'd be able to go through it. She had asked me to be strong, for me and my father, and that's what I was going to do. I was going to honor her wishes. I think her death bent me, but it didn't break me. That came after."

I paused, organizing my thoughts. Logan's eyes on me were protective, like he wanted to protect me from something that had already happened and hurt me, and my stupid heart warmed at that.

I would be in trouble if he also had a thermometer among his enhanced senses.

"At the time of my mother's death, my father was in prison for stealing. Most of my childhood he had been on and off, sometimes home, other times in jail. My favorite Father's Days were when he was at home and I didn't have to go visit him at prison. I was aware he did illegal things but I didn't care because he loved me, and I loved him, and I think for a child that is more than enough. Other people didn't see it that way, of course. The kids in kindergarten and school made fun of me and pushed me away and parents never wanted me to hang out with their children because of my father and that's why... I grew up with this urgent need to fit in. The pressure to be accepted and liked."

I glanced at him, hesitant. I was afraid of what I'd find in his eyes. But there was no judge in him, only a witness, so I kept going.

"I didn't understand why people judged me for my father's mistakes, but my mom always told me not to care about what others did or think. What mattered was how my father behaved when he was with me, and in that requisite, he was the best father in the world. My mother's disease and death crushed him, especially because he hadn't been able to be there for her and me. I didn't blame him, though, I knew most of the times he stole for us. He stole to give us a better life because stealing was the thing he was good at. He used to tell me it was not our fault if the world decided some talents were illegal. Not everyone could be good at things society would admire and praise."

"Your father was right in that."

A soft, unexpected laugh came out of my lips. It was pained and bitter and quickly shattered on the floor.

"He was just trying to make up excuses to ease our consciences. Anyway... since he was in prison and my mother was dead I had to go to an orphanage. I know I've been to more than one though they are all jumbled in my memory. All I can remember is that they were horrible places. Nobody cared about me. Everyone there had a shitty life, but at least no one there judge me for my father's reputation. Everyone had one. In there you were either strong or weak. You didn't get to choose to be something else. And if you didn't decide for yourself, someone else would do it for you. I fell on the weak side, of course. I was a prey in my first game of survival."

"And yet you survived."

If Logan kept saying all the right things, keeping my body disciplined would prove to be a difficult task.

"I did, but at what cost? Despite my grief, when I arrived there I was still an innocent, positive child who believed the world could still be a good place, and the other kids took advantage of that and quickly showed me how wrong I was. They mocked my naivety and I was terrified of their cruelty. I mean, I had already realized kids could be cruel, but never at that level. Being bullied shaped my soul irreversibly. That's why I fucking hate seeing people take advantage of their superior status to hurt others they think are inferior. It disgusts me. So. Fucking. Much."

"Felicia..." Logan whispered, staring at my hands. Unconsciously I had clenched my fists, my nails digging furiously into my palms. I froze when he reached for my wrists and his fingers slid down my skin. My collected facade cracked and I felt shivers everywhere. So this is how it feels like when he touches me on purpose. I mean, he had touched me before, to examine my claws, to grab my shoulders to calm me down, to drag me away from trouble or to position my body into the right fighting stance... his touch was the same. I just... felt it differently.

I watched as his hands forced my fingers to unroll in order to prevent me from shedding any blood, and then he looked up at me and I felt electrocuted and electrified and electro everything.

"I'm okay." I assured him, and only after a moment did he let go of me. I focused on my past, and my ecstasy quickly sold out. "Because of how I was treated in the institutions, I started blaming my father. He should have been there for me and he wasn't, because of his stupid passion for stealing. But then all of my hatred vanished when he was released from jail and I was allowed to go live with him. I was twelve and had already experienced a lot of pain, but now I had him with me and together we'd rebuild our life. Despite what I had endured I still had hope that things would get better and that we'd be okay. It might seem hard to believe, but I was an optimistic child. I used to wear smiles for free before they became too expensive for me to simply give them away. I bet you would have liked that Felicia."

"And I thought that by now you'd know I'm not exactly fond of smiles."

I smiled, and Logan rolled his eyes, his lips betraying him just a bit.

"When I went to live with my father, I thought things would finally change. Now that I had him back, I wasn't willing to lose him again, so I made him promise he would not steal, at least not for a while, because I wasn't fool enough to think he would never again give in to his addiction. For a while, he kept his promise. He acted like a real dad. But after sometime he started spending less and less time at home. At school people continued to look me sideways. I was always alone and had no friends. And I wasn't feisty, I didn't reply back. I didn't know how to defend myself, so I swallowed everything in and tried to block their noise as best as I could. Ignoring them was easy but ignoring the pain they caused me... that was a whole other level."

I wasn't crying yet, but I knew it wouldn't take me much longer to get there. That's why I hated talking; tears fell easier when the soundtrack were words and not thoughts. When there was noise, not silence.

"I wish they had been my students." Logan declared as he made his knuckles crackle. "So that I could have taught them some manners."

"For that you'd need to have them." I snorted, hiding my appreciation.

"Always so charming."

"Got it from you. You're my mentor, after all." I saw his eyebrows raise in surprise. Our eyes locked, and I felt overheated, like I was a teddy bear and someone had just stuffed me with tension. What kind of tension? "Anyway... I started letting go of my positivism, because one can only take so much before irredeemably starting to change. There's a limit to the amount of blows your body and ears can receive before your mind starts getting bruised too. I couldn't even talk and count on my dad because he was never at home. I needed an escape, and I needed my father to see it. I needed him to know I needed him."

"So you started stealing with him?" Logan guessed.

"Yes, I asked him to take me with him. I needed something to distract me, and get my mind off things, but alcohol and drugs never seduced me. Stealing, on the other hand, and the bliss I saw in my father's eyes... I wanted that too. At first he refused, not because he was very moralist but because he was afraid I'd ruin his plans. So I complained, said we needed to spend time together, told him to test me. Eventually he accepted; I think he was secretly proud I wanted to follow in his footsteps. I started step by step. He taught me everything he knew about burglary, security systems, stealth... I had to admit, he was good at what he did despite having been caught several times. Most of the times he was caught not for a fault of his but because he had stayed behind to help one of his friends. Even criminals can have a good heart and I think that's what society fails to comprehend."

I bit my lip, fighting the tears within me. Sometimes I felt like I was an ocean and there was only one small tube draining my water, one drop at a time. Like there was an oil spill in my mind, polluting my heart.

"Felicia, you know you can cry in front of me, right?" Logan inquired, noticing my state. "You don't have to hide yourself from me. I've seen your blood and your sweat; I'm not afraid of your tears."

I smiled. Logan had a strange talent for twisting notions. With him the difficult was easy, the uncomfortable was comfortable and the pain was bravery.

"I know..." I forced myself to speak over the lump in my throat. "It's just I didn't bring tissues."

"In case of emergency I'll take off my hoodie so you can blow your nose on it. But only if it's really necessary."

I let out a weak chuckle, appreciating his effort to ease me. Who knew Logan and I could talk about silly things without it being awkward? Who knew we could actually get along?

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. I'd hate having to stare at those biceps."

Logan looked up at the ceiling, his teeth showing as he smiled.

"So... back to my father... he was impressed at how quickly I learned everything, but I was an eager student. I was so eager to finally be good at something, to prove my value to him, to the world, to myself. I didn't care if it meant being good at something nobody should be good at. And then he started taking me to the real stuff, and that was a huge leap of faith in me and I was resolute on not letting him down. I wanted to make him proud. Suddenly for the first time in my life, I finally felt like I was a part of something, even if it was a gang. I loved stealing with my father and his friends, and they loved me too. I was the little daughter of them all. I fell in love with being a thief. And I didn't care if that meant the world would fall out of love with me."

I stared at Logan, taking in the brown in his eyes. He looked like an autumn that would never die. Like a leaf that would never fall.

For the first time, I wanted it to fall. I wanted to be the first to take it out of the tree.

I wanted fall to fall with me.

"And just say the word, we'll take on the world
Just say you're hurt, we'll face the worst
Nobody knows you the way that I know you
Look in my eyes, I will never desert you
And just say the word, we'll take on the world

And nobody knows you the way that I know you

We'll fight, we'll crawl into the night
Our world, we'll go, with you by my side
The calm, the storm, we'll face it all

And just say the word, we'll take on the world"

A/N: I know, intense chapter... but the next one gets even more dramatic as we (and Logan) find out more about Felicia's tragic past.

Song is "Take On The World" by You Me At Six. It's so beautiful and I think it fits this chapter and Felicia and Logan's relationship really well.

Image is Felicia's aesthetic made by veingeances. 

Now get ready for the drama :)