So, first of all, sorry for the delay on this update. Things have gotten a little crazy around here. My mom left Friday, as always, and left me some money for pizza and healthy food for lunch (I will eat half pizza for lunch and half for dinner, no boring ass salad, lol).
As soon as I heard her car leaving the driveway, I snooped. I tried her nightstand, and besides some meds and something I won’t mention here but wish I had never seen, nothing was interesting there. So to the closet, we go. It was hard finding it. Hundreds of clothes, shoes, random trinkets from our trips to Disney when I was young, some photos of me as a kid, they were all torn in the middle for some reason, I believe they were family photos, and my mom cut my dad from the pictures so it would be just she and I, but whatever. When I found that box, I was baffled. Not because there were some exciting things that could answer or even mention Logan. There were only toys that I played with when I was just a child: legos, robots, and some random figures. As soon as I laid eyes on these, I got some memories unlocked.
I remember playing with these in the living room while I heard mom and dad shouting and fighting. I remember the first time I heard my dad beating my mom. I remember her crying and sobbing. But it was ok. I had Ben with me. Ben was my imaginary friend. You see, I didn’t have any friends growing up (Hell, I still don’t have friends but whatever). I was an introvert (still am), I couldn’t invite any friends over for obvious reasons, and my parents couldn’t be bothered to stop fighting so they could drive me to someone’s house for play dates. But Ben, Ben kept me companion during hard times. Ben was always there for me. He was there when they were shouting; he was there the first time I heard him beating her. He was there that dinner when mom showed pictures of dad hugging Beatrice (my nanny), and now at fifteen, I realize they were not hugging, if you know what I mean. He shouted and threw his plate on the wall before storming off while my mom sobbed and drank her second, or third, who knows, bottle of wine along with some sleep pills. But it was ok. Ben was there, and he would take care of me, right?
Ben would go with me to explore the woods near our home. We would pretend that something was hunting us and hide in some bushes. We built a tree house (Actually, we found an abandoned one, but in my imagination Ben and I built it). That was my second home. No, that was my home. We decorated with toys, video game posters, some playboy posters from magazines that I found on the street one day (Not gonna lie, I felt pretty badass for having those when I was eight years old). God, I forgot how I loved Ben. I kinda miss him now.
Sometimes it felt like my parents could see Ben. They would talk to him (pretend he was imaginary after all). I remember one day when they found out I had stolen ten bucks from my dad’s wallet so I could buy some new toys from Walmart, and they got angry and grounded Ben. I think that sometimes they realized how badly they were screwing me up, and instead of punishing me, they would pretend to punish Ben and let me go. I even got to keep those ten bucks.
At age 11, I decided we would smoke some cigarettes like the cool guys on TV. At first, I used to get the half-smoked ones from mom’s ashtray and just smoke them to the very last bit. At first, my lungs screamed for help as the smoke entered my body. I coughed like my body was trying to expel some ancient evil lodged in my respiratory system. It felt terrible but great at the same time. It calmed me down. Ben scolded me for smoking. He said it was awful and could cause me great harm in the future. Pretty weird how an imaginary friend could disagree with me, but I guess it was my subconsciousness trying to tell me how stupid I was. Anyways, that was the first time Ben and I fought. I yelled at him, called him a coward, a piece of shit, and he called me an irresponsible idiot. He yelled and screamed. He even cried. He told me that I should obey him because he was older than me (he was 14 at the time) and that he knew what was best for me. I screamed back, calling him a liar. If smoking was so bad for your health, why would everyone on TV smoke? And then… he hit me for the first time.
Now I know what you might be thinking, how could Ben hit me if he was imaginary? Well, you see, it wasn’t Ben that had hit me. It was dad. I didn’t see him hitting me per se, but when I woke up, I saw him standing there, looking angry at me, and I knew right away that he was the one who punched me. Who else could it be? Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time dad got violent with me or my mom. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure that he saw me smoking. He didn’t say anything, just watching me go upstairs to my room.
Well, besides remembering the only good thing from my childhood, there was nothing helpful on the box, just memories from a happier time (for me at least). But still, no Logan.
However, there is still one hope to find out who Logan is. Uncle Stan lives a few blocks over. He was dad’s older brother, but they didn’t talk to each other. Uncle Stan hated dad, but I never knew why. I only saw Uncle Stan at the rare family gatherings we had.
I will visit him and get back with an update for you guys asap.