I wasn't ready for something like this.

Sawyer lay on his side, facing the window. He was shirtless and I could see really nasty bruising in his abdomen and sides. Worse off was his nose, definitely broken with the way the bridge was not as straight as always. The purple and green hues in his face didn't disguise the gash on his cheek. I didn't know how long it'd been since he got injured, but it didn't look to me like it was healing well. He opened his eyes like he was coming to after a long nap, squinting against the sun behind me and I heard the groan again.

"Dios mío," I whispered. My Spanish vocabulary wasn't as vast as it could be, but only that sentence seemed appropriate.

Sawyer's voice came with difficulty as he asked, "Who's there?"

"It's me," I said, looking around once more before I dumped my bag inside his room and hauled myself up and through the window. There was a moment of delicate balance as I tried not to fall and swing my legs clear into the room at the same time, but I made it.

He turned to lie on his back with a wince. "What are you doing here, princess?"

"I don't know, to be honest." I looked down his body, searching for more injuries. He was in his underwear, but everything below his torso seemed healthy.

His throat worked for a second before he was able to say, "You shouldn't be here."

"What the heck happened to you?" I asked, ignoring his comment.

It seemed like it hurt him to breathe. Oh God, I should probably call for help. This looked bad.

"None of your business, Rory," he rasped out.

I stood there looking down at him. He was always so larger than life, walking everywhere with the gait of someone who knew the world could belong to him if he asked for it. Right then, he looked defeated and sick and I never thought this was even possible.

Sawyer cracked one eye open a couple of minutes later and appeared startled that I was still there.

"What the fuck are you still doing here?"

I folded my arms. "Look, I know we didn't end things in the nicest terms, but you look like you need help right now. So, let me help you."

This time the sound that came out of him was more like a growl. But we both froze as we heard something outside the door. With the level of pain that Sawyer was in, I was stunned when he jumped from his bed and pushed me into his closet. At the same time his bedroom door opened and through the crack in the closet door I watched Jack Logan stumble in. Something else that didn't go unnoticed to me, despite Sawyer having his back to me, was the tension that took over the son. It was in the way he suddenly tried to make himself small, even though he was a full head taller than his father.

"This is all your fault," Jack spat out.

"What is?" Sawyer asked, his voice low and soft like a feather. I'd never heard him use a tone like that.

I'd just never heard him be afraid. Period.

His father shoved him and Sawyer landed with a hard gasp against the closet door. I jumped back and slammed my hip against something, but I managed to bite back the cry. So did Sawyer. He was as silent as I was. After I gathered my bearings again I glued my eye to the gap so I could see what was happening.

"Everything," Jack growled, taking one step closer toward his son. "It's your little antics what got you looking like a mess. Now I have the school exploding my phone. What are you gonna do to fix that?"

"I can't go to school looking like this," the younger Logan said. His words chafed me like sandpaper. "People will ask too many questions."

"Why don't you tell them it was that boy, huh? The one who beat you up before like the weak little shit that you are."

Taylor, I realized. Yeah, he was a douche but I didn't think he would cause this kind of damage on Sawyer or anyone if it could be traced back to him and bring him trouble with Coach O'Hare. If Sawyer said such a lie, it'd immediately get flagged and investigated. Sawyer must have figured that out, because he said nothing. He also didn't react as his father grabbed Sawyer's hair into a fist and tilted his head back. I bit my lips and caught myself from giving a warning that would be too late.

"What? Do you want them to figure out there's some sort of problem at home, huh?" I could see Jack's fingers tighten around the unruly golden tresses. I was sure it hurt. "Do you think someone will care to run over and save you? Nah, son," as he said this he let go of Sawyer with a snap of his wrist that sent the boy tumbling back against the closet door once more. "No one will save you. To them you're white trash. People like you and I are worth nothing."

Jack took a step back and when he lifted one hand to rub his nose I saw that his knuckles were as bruised as his son's sides. As his son's face.

I felt so, so stupid. Every sign had been there for years. That was why every time Sawyer and I would play when we were small and I'd get angry, he would flinch and make himself into a small ball.

Later growing up in middle school and high school, there had been crazy rumors of Sawyer getting into fights, which was why he almost always seemed to be in some bad shape. It'd always been weird to me how if the rumors were true the school hadn't just expelled him. Surely if he was a violent hooligan it couldn't be right to put other kids exposed to such danger. But I'd never actually seen Sawyer hit anybody, not even when I walked into what undoubtedly was a fight between him and Taylor Banks.

My vision blurred as hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I jammed my fist against my mouth and nose, trying to muffle any sound.

"You're going to school tomorrow," Jack said under his breath. "And if anyone asks, make something up. Keep people away from here, do you understand, son?"

After a labored breath Sawyer said, "Yes."

The smile on Jack Logan's despicable face gave me a shudder. He patted Sawyer's head, hard, as though he didn't care this would cause him further pain, and said, "That's a good boy."

It was several minutes later when we heard the front door slam shut. Sawyer shuffled his feet and with the utmost care turned to sit back on his bed. His nose was bleeding a bit and he stared at the red that now coated his fingers with detachment. I opened the closet door slowly and he looked up at me. There was anger and shame flashing in his eyes, which now wouldn't meet mine.

Twice Sawyer had warned me that I shouldn't be here. Twice I didn't listen. Now I knew his secret and I just couldn't turn a blind eye. But I didn't know what to do.

Now that we were alone, it didn't matter if my sobs and hiccups came out. That was the only sound in the room for a while. I should've been the one offering him comfort, yet he pulled me against him and held me as the worst of my feelings wrecked their havoc. I was careful not to hurt him, but what I really wanted to do was wrap my arms around him and not let go.

"I never wanted you to see that," he whispered with a voice so faraway I thought I might have imagined it.

I pulled away from him and looked up at his face, a broken statue of what once had been perfection. Gingerly I held it between my hands and turned it my way, so he'd have no option but to look at me. A painful stab twisted in my heart at the tears that also rolled down his eyes.

"Listen to me, Sawyer Logan," I said, struggling to push all the strength I had in my words. "You are not weak. You are not trash. You are worthy. Your father is a fucking piece of shit and this is all his fault, not yours."

His eyes widened and it almost looked like some life was back behind them. This was probably due to the fact that I never swore and I had just dropped a record amount of cussing.

"I need you to let me help you," I said and he tried to pull away. "Please. You can't expect me to see all of this and walk away."

Sawyer lifted my hands away from him and tried to push them away. "You can. You did. Everybody does."

His mom.

I never met her, but I heard she left when Sawyer had been a toddler.

And if I dared say, me too. It had been my intention all along to wash my hands off of anything that had to do with him.

"I'm sorry," I said, hanging my head and letting the tears fall on my arms and legs. "You don't deserve this. No one does."

Sawyer pulled away. It took some effort but he got up from the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor. He stumbled as he pulled them on and had to lean against the window to catch his breath.

"Thanks," he said, not meaning it at all. "But you really need to leave. He'll be back from the liquor store soon and if he catches you here he really might kill me this time."

I startled. "This time?"

He cringed. "I'm fine, princess. I don't need any help you can provide."

I knew it was an attempt to get me mad enough that I'd back off, and it sure awaked my temper. He was banking on the fact that I always took the path of least resistance to me, whatever was more convenient. It would have been a lot easier to follow my own pattern, pretend that this had nothing to do with me and drop it like a hot potato, darn be the consequences. It was, after all, what I'd done at Homecoming. It was what he'd seen me do all our lives. It even was what I wanted to do.

I'd never really had any reasons to fight so much. My parents loved me, in their own ways. They certainly wanted the best for me. My sister did as well. I had great friends who put up with me for reasons I didn't care to explore. My family was middle class and wanted for none of the basics. There was absolutely no reason for me to be as ruthless and manipulative as I happened to be. Sawyer had grown up in a broken home, knowing bone deep rejection from a mother who didn't care to fight for him and a father who abused them both. And yet there he was, accepting that this was his life and that there was nothing he could do to change it. Accepting the notion that he didn't even deserve to change it.

And that I couldn't take.

Maybe Mr. Davies was right after all. Maybe I had never treated Sawyer with kid gloves because, while everybody else looked at him and sensed that he needed care, all I saw was someone who needed to own up to his own life. I was by no means placing the blame of his circumstances on him, but at that moment as I looked up at his bruises and the dried blood on his face, I was angry that he'd refuse help. And I figured that this was the reason why my favorite teacher had paired us up. Because I had the steel spine that Sawyer needed.

I stood up and marched to his closet. I grabbed a pair of clean socks and a sweatshirt and tossed them at him.

"I'll call us an Uber," I said, not caring that a second ride was going to drain what remained of my allowance. "We're getting you checked out and after that, we'll work out a plan."

Sawyer sighed. "You don't get it. I can't afford help. Nobody can know."

"Nobody will know if you let me take care of this."

He gave me a look. It was disbelief. I met it square with my top Latina resting face. This was enough for him to give up and get dressed. As we waited for the Uber I called Toni and explained the situation to her. She agreed to meet us at UCF. Maybe Sawyer couldn't afford medical care, but I knew somebody who could at least take a look. That was where Adam, Toni's baby daddy, came in handy with his pre-med education.

The four of us crammed ourselves into Adam's dorm room as he tended to Sawyer's cuts and set his nose back in place. Toni and I clutched at each other, seeing the blood that suddenly gushed out of it. But through all of this Sawyer didn't even flinch. I figured that was how used he was to pain.

"Rory," my sister whispered to me as we watched. "Are you sure you want to get involved in this?"

I looked into her dark, worried eyes. That was probably close to how I'd looked like when I found out she'd gotten pregnant. I looked back at Sawyer, who was now chugging aspirin like it was candy.

"I shouldn't," I said.

She nodded. "But you want to."

"No, I don't," I admitted. "I just can't pretend I know nothing."

Adam turned to us, his mouth a grim line. "That's all I can really do, but things don't look grave to me."

There was irony in that, considering that Sawyer looked like he'd gotten into a traffic accident.

That was when I got the idea. I told them all about it and they agreed. But we all knew that telling people at school that Sawyer had been in accident while driving his motorbike was just putting a band-aid on the problem. We had to find a way to get him away from Jack Logan before something worse happened. Enough people had let Sawyer down, and I didn't want to make a permanent fixture in that cast anymore.

🚨 ALL THE SECRETS ARE OUT 🚨

THE STAGE IS SET