The cheers from the spectators in the stands deafened his sharp ears. The lights beamed down onto the field, illuminating it so that it was almost as clear as day. Vivid colors flashed all around him as he tried to discern friend and foe, sweat pouring down his face and stray strands of hair getting into his eyes. Samson looked around frantically with his arm arched back ready to throw the football, trying to find someone who was open. However, as he looked, he felt subdued and cold again, distracting him long enough for two guys to break through the defensive line and tackle him hard. Completely taken off guard, Samson was knocked backwards and dropped the ball. He swore as the referee blew the whistle, calling Samson’s down.
The two football players who knocked Samson down stood up, smiling down at him. Samson glared briefly at them before he responded with a weak grin of his own. They were only playing the game and following the rules. It wasn’t their fault that Samson couldn’t focus enough to play.
It wasn’t their fault that Samson felt like crap.
Samson pushed himself up off of the grass just as the coach called for a time out. Even when Samson walked over to the side and pulled off his helmet, his mind was still swimming and conflicted. He kept on replaying the scene in the restroom over and over inside his head. He grabbed a cup of water and dumped it onto his head to try to clear things up, but all it did was soak him. Was Logan’s private life really as messed up as he said? He already knew Riley treated Logan like trash, but Samson wouldn’t have thought that Mr. and Mrs. Warden would do such things to their own son. He had always thought that with the exception of Riley that the Wardens were the perfect family.
Soon his mind shifted over to his last moment with Logan:
“Stay away from me.” Logan said louder this time. “Stay away, and stay out of my life! I never want to see you again, you hear me? Never!”
Before Logan’s words had always had a huge impact on him, but these…these had shattered Samson’s last bit of hope and will. Logan never wanted to see him again, and this time Samson could feel that he meant that.
But what disturbed him most was what Logan had said before that.
“You’ve already taking everything away from me!”
Just what did Logan mean by that when he said that Samson had taken everything away from him?
“Samons! SAMSON!” A large, intimidating voice barked right under his left ear.
Samson jumped about two feet in the air. “Sorry coach!”
“Boy, get your head in the game!” The coach yelled loudly. He was a foot shorter then Samson and fifty pounds lighter, but he still acted intimidating. Usually the coach was pretty level headed and treated Samson well. Then again, Samson was usually winning the games instead of losing by eight points in the first quarter.
“Sorry coach.” Samson apologized again. “I’ll try.”
“Don’t try, just do it!” The coach snapped. “Now get in there and win already!”
Samson gave a brief nod he headed back out into the field. As he went, he made a quick glance at the stands behind him. He didn’t know why, but for some reason he always felt as if Logan was somewhere in the crowd, watching him play. True, Samson did have an uncanny ability of knowing where Logan was in school, but he knew it was very unlikely that Logan was watching his game. Besides, it was impossible now. Logan had said that he never wanted to see Samson again. There was no way Logan could be here. With that firmly in mind, Samson donned his helmet again and made his way to position, determined to make a comeback and take the team to state. Everybody was counting on him, after all.
* * *
Logan looked down into the field. He was seated at the far end of the bleachers, high up so he could view the entire stadium with ease. So far it looked to Logan like things were going downhill for Samson and his team. Samson had made many mistakes and bad plays, costing the school valuable points. Already they were losing by fifteen points, and they were only nearing the end of the first half. He watched calmly as Samson made a dash down the field with the ball in hand, both halfway there he began to slow down. Not by much, but enough so that the runners caught up to him and tackled him down. A collective groan rippled through the crowd from Samson’s blunder.
From Logan’s point of view, there were only two possibilities left for the game. First, the coach could bench Samson and take his chances with the other players. The team was very good and all, but their weakness was that they depended on Samson too much so they wouldn’t be able to get organize and surely lose to the opposition. Second, the coach would keep Samson in the game and hope he would be able to break out of whatever that was holding him back. However, judging from Samson’s rapidly deteriorating performance that option was unlikely to work. Either way, the school’s chance of winning this game by a comeback was very low.
Though Logan had already thought this through, his face was completely expressionless as he watched the game. He didn’t cheer, or chant, or jump on his feet and joined in with all of the other enthusiastic fans. He merely just sat there with his hands in his pockets, watching.
Soon, the whistle blew as the game finally reached halftime, and both teams headed into their respective lockers.
* * *
“Fuck!” Samson swore as he punched one of the lockers, denting it badly inwards. The coach had just spent a good three minutes yelling his head off at him about his poor play. Samson had already felt like shit about the game, but coupled with his messed up emotions he just couldn’t handle it. The moment he had the chance, he went to the far end of the locker room and began pounding away his frustrations, destroying several lockers much in the same fashion as he did the other day.
In no time Jamal was there, somewhat taken aback by the sudden rampage. “Whoa man, calm down!” Jamal said as he grabbed his friend by the shoulder.
Samson shook him off and punched the lockers again. A door fell off and clattered onto the ground.
“Samson, get a hold of yourself before you wreck everything!” Jamal grabbed Samson once again in another attempt to calm him down.
Samson clenched his fist tightly, but managed to stop himself in mid strike. Slowly, he took deep breaths and lowered his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry man…” His voice creaked. “I just…I just can’t think straight!”
“It’s alright dude, I’m here for you.” Jamal comforted him. “Now, you want to tell me what’s bugging you so much that it’s throwing your game off so much?”
“I…I…” Samson’s body shook as he did his best to keep his emotions from breaking loose. He couldn’t lose control now, not in front of his friend. “Logan and I had a huge fight, and he…he…”
Samson lashed out and struck the lockers again before his eyes watered enough to start shedding tears. There was no way he was going to let his friend, much less the entire football team see him cry.
“Hey man, it’s gonna be alright.” Jamal said, rubbing Samson’s shoulder. “Just forget all about him already and focus on the game.”
Jamal didn’t understand. Logan was Samson’s life. Without Logan, Samson didn’t know what to do anymore. He was so confused and messed up that he couldn’t even think clearly as Jamal slowly lead him back to the other players. Samson was vaguely aware that Jamal was saying something to him, but he didn’t care anymore. Without Logan, he didn’t have a reason to care about anything anymore.
It was as if a part of him had died.
It wasn’t until Samson had marched back onto the field did he bring himself out of that trance. He tried to steel himself and play, but it was no use. No matter what he did, or how hard he tried he just couldn’t concentrate hard enough to pull through. He fumbled the ball. He would overshoot his throws. He would get constantly tackled down and lose the ball.
And so the other team scored one touchdown after another until finally the whistle was blown, signaling the end of the game.
They had lost.
* * *
Logan waited until everyone else left the stadium before he stood up from his spot in the bleachers. The crowd had turned ugly during the last half when it was obvious that their team was going to lose. After all, losing by twenty six points was kind of embarrassing. It also marked the end of their zero losses streak, which they had kept up since the previous year when Samson first joined the football team. Even so, it wasn’t as if it was the end for their chance to go to state. Since they had such a flawless record so far, all they had to do was win the next game and their spot would still be guaranteed.
Logan slowly descended the stairs at the edge of the stands, now clear of all spectators. Though there was no one around, he still kept his bare hands in his pockets. He had been in such a rush to get out of the house that he had forgotten the grab his spare pair.
Finally Logan reached to bottom and went through the exit. Behind the bleachers it was very dark, almost pitch black. The silence was broken by a bunch of rowdy teenagers lurking under one of the lamps. Logan saw that they were three guys, who were also students of the school and some of Samson’s biggest fans. As Logan drew closer, his ears caught wind of their conversation.
“-believe we lost!” One guy said loudly.
“Samson never played that badly before!” Another guy stated. “Even when he first joined the team, he was already going at it like a seasoned player!”
“Yea, he’s like a teenaged god!” The third guy added in.
“Do you guys know whose fault it is?” The first guy asked.
“Who?” The other two said at once.
“It was that damn Logan, that’s who.”
Upon hearing his name, Logan began to quicken his pace a bit, trying to make his way past them by before they noticed he was there within striking distance.
“You mean Logan Warden, the asshole who is always treating Samson like shit?” One of them said. “Why the hell would Samson play bad because of that wimp?”
“I don’t know why,” The guy answered. “But this morning Samson pulled Logan into the bathroom. At first I thought that Samson was finally going to teach that motherfucker a lesson, but then a minute later that faggot stormed out, and a long while after that Samson came out too, looking like someone who got chewed out. Whatever that shit-head did, it’s the reason why Samson is fucked up tonight!”
Abruptly Logan tripped over a particularly large rock that had been lying in the middle of his path, stumbling forward and causing a ruckus. Immediately the four boys turned in his direction.
“Hey is that…?”
Logan immediately broke out into a run, but he was up against three healthy teenaged boys. Within mere seconds they caught up to him and grabbed Logan, one guy on each arm.
“Let me go!” Logan yelled, suddenly panicking from their touches. His hands were currently expose, so if they touched him there-
His panic was cut short as his stomach erupted in pain and the air was knocked out of him. One of the guys punched him in the stomach while the other held Logan down.
“What the fuck are you doing here, huh asshole?” The guy asked. “You came to watch Samson fuck up this game because of you? Well guess what, faggot.” The guy poked a finer hard into Logan’s chest. “We got you now, and I think it’s high time someone teach you not to mess with Samson anymore!” The bully then punched Logan full square in the face.
Logan gasped out as both the feeling for pain and the shock of a bond between them forming raced through his body. “S-stop, please!” Logan cried out.
“Listen to him!” The guy on his left snickered. “He’s actually asking us to stop.”
“You know, I always hated his guts.” The guy holding Logan’s right arm said. “Wearing these tight ass black clothes, walking around strutting his stuff like he owns the place.”
“Well if that’s the case, then why don’t we go ahead and fix that?” Suddenly Logan felt them grabbing a hold of his shirt and began tearing it apart.
“No, don’t!” Logan tried to warn them, but they continued to tear apart his clothes until his body was expose to the cold night air. Now the two bullies that held Logan down were touching Logan’s skin directly, and Logan could only shudder as he felt the familiar shock of his power latching onto these other two coarse through him. Didn’t they know that touching him would only hurt them? Didn’t they realize the danger they were in? Didn’t they realize what they were doing to themselves?
“Damn, look at him!” One of the guys exclaimed.
“He’s a skinny fucker ain’t he?” Someone said
“No muscle whatsoever.” Another noted.
“I can see his freakin’ ribs!” One of them pointed out.
After they became satisfied with their verbal abuse, the first bully stepped in front of Logan, his knuckles cracking and his eyes practically gleaming with a malicious intent.
Logan looked up at him, his eyes pleading. “Don’t do it…Please, don’t do it.”
The bully, however, seemed to revel in Logan’s words.
And then he proceeded to pound on him.
Blow after blow struck, bringing sharp stabs of pain from each strike.
“Stop it!” Logan cried out between blows.
The bullies switched places, each taking turns to hit on Logan’s weak body.
“Please, s-stop!” Logan begged them.
A blow to his face cut Logan’s lip, and his mouth was filled with the taste of blood. His left began to swell shut, obscuring his view.
“Stop it…please…” Logan repeated, his voice growing weaker.
On and on they went, yelling, venting, laughing.
“P-please stop…” Logan repeated over and over again.
But the attack never let up. It continued to go on, wrecking Logan both physically and mentally.
* * *
Samson stepped out into the night, feeling worse then he had ever felt in his life. He had woken up that morning, determined to set things right with Logan once and for all. Now, he had nothing. He had lost Logan for good. He lost the football game, and probably the faith of everybody in the team and the whole school as well for losing so badly. No football, no Logan…what was there left? Samson thought morbidly about this as he began to question his reason for living.
As Samson began walking, he made a few glances back towards the stadium. At first he figured it was nothing, but as he traveled farther from it, the more frequently he looked back. The stadium was the last place he wanted to be at right now, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was being drawn back there. What made it even more confusing that it was the feeling he had that made him think Logan was there, of all things. True, he was fairly good at finding where Logan was in the school, but for Logan to come and watch his game was just plain ridiculous. Logan hated him, and the last thing Logan would do was watch him.
And yet why couldn’t Samson shake the feeling that Logan was there right now?
Samson gave a frustrated sigh as he ran his fingers through his long blonde hair and turned around. He was going to prove once and for all that this hunch of his was nothing more then that; a hunch. He made his way back through the deserted parking lot and to the stadium. When he arrived, that feeling arose again, telling him to go towards the area behind the home side. Still not knowing what to expect, he made his way around and walked along the back of the stadium.
As he made his way towards the end, his sharp ears suddenly caught a noise coming from up ahead. Frowning, Samson made his way closer to find out the source of it. Soon he was able to decipher words from the noise and as he neared whoever it was, the words became clearer.
“-ganos.” The shaky voice said. “A-as o-one who has b-been cursed b-by f…fate…I break…I break my ties with thee, and…and sssever the bond between us.” When the voice finished speaking, there was a sharp hiss of pain. “I am L-Loganos. As one who…”
Samson stopped in his tracks. That voice! He knew that voice from anywhere. He could recognize it in the middle of a crowded school hallway with earplugs on. But there was no way…it couldn’t possibly be…but it was…
Samson quickened his pace and hurried towards the source of the voice.
“I b-break my t-ties with thee, and ssever the b-bonds between us. I break the t-ties with thee, and s…sever the b…bonds between us.” The voice had shortened the words now, and each breath was strained and full of pain. Quickly Samson picked up the pace. There, kneeling in the dark with his back turned up ahead. Was it him?
“S-sever the bond between us.” The voice sobbed. “Sever the b-bond between us. Sever the…the b-bond-” Even in the dark, Samson could see the person moving his right arm, and in that hand was a red knife.
It was covered with blood.
“Logan!” Samson cried out, and in a flash he was there. Logan was stripped to the waist and looked absolutely horrible. Logan’s body was extremely thin, thinner then Samson could imagine. Not only that, Logan was in worse shape possible. All over his body were hideous black and purple bruises. Logan’s eyes were nearly swelled shut, and there was a cut on his lip. But that didn’t compare to what Samson saw right then. Logan’s left forearm had been slashed almost to ribbons, over a dozen deep cuts spewing scarlet blood everywhere.
To Samson’s horror, he watched Logan move his knife in order to slash himself again. “S-sever the-”
“NO!” Samson’s hand flew out and grabbed the knife of the blade, yanking it from Logan’s grasp. He barely noticed the metal twisting in his grip, or the fact that the sharp blade didn’t even cut his skin. All that mattered now was…
“W-who’s there?” Logan looked up towards Samson, his eyes clouded and confused.
“Shh, it’s me. I’m here for you now.” Samson said reaching for Logan. To his surprise, however, Logan shied away almost like he was scared.
“N-no, I can’t…” Logan muttered weakly, and his eyelids began to droop. “I c-can’t take it anymore…I’m sorry, but I…I-I…” Before Samson could do anything, Logan’s eyes rolled up to the back of his skull and he toppled over.
“LOGAN!” Samson rushed over. Logan was lying on the ground, passed out from the blood loss. Samson looked down, nearly panicking as he tried to figure out what to do. All of a sudden he was in a situation where someone’s life depended on him. And what made it even more nerve wrecking what that that someone was Logan, the very person he cared about the most. Suddenly he remembered Mr. Warden was a doctor. Quickly he whipped out his cell phone and pressed speed dial number one, making it the first time he had every actually used it.
“Come on, pick up…” Samson said impatiently as he listened to the phone ring. “Come on….Come ON!”
Finally someone picked up the phone. “Hello? Logan? Is that you?” Mrs. Warden’s worried voice came from the other end.
“Mrs. Warden, you gotta help me!” Samson blurted out, unable to think rationally. “Logan is bleeding really badly, he was cutting himself and now he’s…oh my god, I think he’s dying!”
Samson heard Mrs. Warden drop the receiver on the other end. Samson began bouncing up and down as he waited for someone to pick it up and talk to him. Logan needed help, and he needed it NOW!
“Simon?” Mr. Warden’s voice finally spoke from the phone.
“Mr. Warden!” Samson felt hope stir in him as he finally reached who he was looking for. “Logan is…he’s…oh God!” Samson covered his face as he tried to avert his mind from the image of Logan, covered in red.
“Simon, calm down.” Mr. Warden ordered. “Now, where are you?”
“A-at school.” Samson told him, taking in quick breaths. “Behind the football stadium. Please, Mr. Warden, tell me what to do! There’s blood everywhere and the bleeding hasn’t stopped.”
“Alright, hang on.” Mr. Warden told Samson. Faintly Samson heard Mr. Warden order his wife to call an ambulance to the school and told her to inform them that to use the kin-something team, Samson couldn’t hear too well through the phone. “Simon, are you still there?” Mr. Warden’s voice came back.
“Yes!” Samson said quickly into the phone. Of course he was still there! “Mr. Warden, please tell me what to do! Logan’s losing a lot of blood, and I…”
“Don’t panic.” Mr. Warden’s cool tone calmed Samson down a bit. “Now, an ambulance is on its way over there. While you’re waiting, whatever you do, don’t touch Logan.”
Samson stared at the phone, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Don’t touch him? But he’s bleeding like mad! If I don’t do something now, he’ll die from the blood loss!”
“The paramedics will be there shortly.” Mr. Warden tried to reassure Samson. “They’ll be able to save Logan. Meanwhile, don’t touch him, alright? He’s in a very fragile state, and doing something without training could worsen his condition.
“ARE YOU MAD!?” Samson yelled into his phone. “YOU EXPECT ME TO STAND HERE AND WATCH MY FRIEND JUST BLEED HIMSELF TO DEATH? Well FUCK YOU!” Samson slammed his cell phone into the ground. What is up with everybody about not touching Logan? Logan’s life was in danger!
Samson steeled himself and turned back towards the bloodied figure of Logan. He was still out like a light, with blood flowing into a small pool just under his left arm. Samson nearly threw up at the sight, but he willed his stomach under control.
“First I need to cut off the circulation.” Samson said to himself. Without thinking he took his shirt and tore it to shreds, revealing his hard, muscular body underneath. This wasn’t the time for self admiration, however. Samson knelt down next to Logan’s body and grabbed the left arm to wrap the makeshift bandage around.
The moment Samson’s hand touched Logan’s arm, he felt a strong, tingly sensation radiate from Logan’s skin and seep into Samson. Startled, he pulled back and the sensation disappeared. Slowly, almost gingerly he touched Logan’s arm again. And once more that feeling spread from Logan and into Samson. It wasn’t a bad feeling. It was actually kind of pleasant, this feeling. Almost like a combination of a deep tissue massage and a vibrating chair, only Samson could feel it pour into every fiber in his body. It was so pleasant that Samson actually felt his manhood twitch within his pants.
Samson slapped himself right in the face. “Focus!” He yelled at himself, and quickly tied the piece of cloth tightly around Logan’s upper arm to stop the blood flow, ignoring the strange feeling that arose from the skin contact. Samson then grabbed a few other pieces of cloth and moved in to press against the cuts. When he looked down at Logan’s arm closely, however, he sucked in his breath. Underneath the cuts, from Logan’s wrist to his elbow there were scars, all lined up in a neat line. Samson felt himself go pale as he saw the multitude of the scars that completely dominated Logan’s left arm. On closer look, Samson saw there wasn’t a single bit of the original skin left anywhere, just scars everywhere.
That sick feeling arose in Samson again. He had heard of Emo people cutting themselves up on purpose but this…this was just…it was just sick and wrong! A sudden thought occurred to Samson. He looked over at Logan’s other arm and saw it bound in what appeared to be bandages. Without reducing the pressure he was applying to the cuts he undid the knot and pulled the bandages off. He gasped again as he saw the impossibly large number of scars, exactly identical to the other arm. He never would have thought Logan had it that bad!
Snapping himself out of shock, Samson grabbed the bandages he had just taken off of Logan’s right arm and began wrapping them around Logan’s left with utmost care while ignoring that strange tingly feeling all the while. It was definitely no time to be getting aroused that was a definite! The bleeding had fortunately stopped, but Logan still looked deadly pale to Samson.
Deadly pale… Samson shuddered violently at those words. No time to be afraid however, because Logan needed his help. Carefully Samson placed his hands behind Logan’s back and legs and gently lifted him upwards. Logan felt so light, but he was also as limp as a rag doll. It wasn’t at all like before when he had caught him in the cafeteria. Back then Samson had thought it was the best moment in his entire life when he held Logan, but now…now he feared for his frail friend more then anything.
Hastily Samson made his way out to the parking lot, keeping a watchful eye on Logan the entire time. If Samson didn’t see Logan’s flat chest raise and fall from breathing, he would have thought that Logan was already dead.
The distant sound of sirens brought his attention back. Looking up, he watched as an ambulance turned into the parking lot and raced towards them. With a small bit of relief, Samson waited for them as they pulled up in front of him and jumped out the back.
Three paramedics came out, pulling a stretcher along with them. “Is this it?” One of the men asked, indicating Logan.
Samson nodded. “He’s in pretty bad shape; he’s lost a lot of blood.” Samson told them, holding out Logan for the men to take.
The paramedic seemed to back away slightly from Logan. “P-put it down on the stretcher.” The paramedic ordered.
Samson frowned. Why did the paramedic back off? He wanted to ask, but Logan came first. Being very careful, Samson set Logan down on the stretcher. He backed off and watched the paramedics went to work. Perhaps he imagined it, but Samson thought he saw them seemed to hesitate for a second before touching Logan with their gloved hands. However, after that they seemed to move like a normal unit, doing all of the vital checks and everything. Within moments they carried him into the back of the ambulance to carry Logan off to the hospital.
Samson stepped up and placed a hand on the door before they had a chance to close it. “Can I come too?”
The paramedic hesitated again. “No, we’ll take care of it from here. Don’t worry, its in good hands.”
“Oh.” Samson cast his eyes downwards. “O-okay.” He backed off as the medic closed the door and then watched as the ambulance raced off before something registered in his brain. The paramedic had refer Logan as an “it” instead of a real person.
“The fuck?” Samson felt confusion and anger build up inside of him. Why did the paramedics treat Logan almost like they were afraid? Why did they call him “it” instead of a person? And what was that feeling he felt when he had been touching Logan.
Samson clenched his fists tightly before setting off after the ambulance and headed towards the hospital. Hopefully he could find some answers he was looking for there, as well as be near Logan in his time of need.