PROLOGUE: NEW JERSEY

How long had he been here? Too long, that much was for sure. What should have been three days of fun, of recording in New Jersey, had turned in to three weeks of horror, frustration, and endless questions. He was the only one left sitting here, in this helpless room that reeked of neglect, of despair and most of all abandoned hope. A room that held nothing, no answers to the questions he so desperately needed to find. It held nothing but the pathetic empty shell, the shadow of the man on the bed next to him, he used to know as Brian Littrell. But he would find the missing pieces to a puzzle he didn’t know how to complete. He would find the answers, even if he didn’t want to know them. Even if they would shatter everything he had ever believed in.

 

 

previously: ''He would find the answers, even if he didn’t want to know them. Even if they would shatter everything he had ever believed in.''

1.       REASONS FOR BLAME

The only reason I am writing in this journal now, is to find out where it could have possibly gone wrong. I’m trying to go by the dates, dates that stand out in my mind. Dates that could be holding the key to a solution, to an explanation, to a chance to make sense out of a senseless deed. And since I am not going to get anything out of the lifeless man to my right, I’ll have to do it all by myself. I’ve been writing in this notebook for the past three weeks, but still haven’t found the answer I’m looking for. The answer that could give me a reason as to why this has happened. 

 

23rd of October 2005

Normally, recording days were lame, so we had to make it interesting. We usually end up having entire competitions and bets on who would get their singing parts done the fastest. I don’t even know why we do it anymore, as the sequence of victory is always the same. I win, AJ is a very close second, Nick does his very best, but seems just unable to get anything done fast, and Brian always loses. He’s too much of a perfectionist to stand a chance against my quick work. Kevin is the typical fun-spoiler who does not want to compete. Well, not anymore since he quit the group two weeks ago. I can’t help but feeling the anger burning in my veins whenever I think about his decision.

I had wanted to scream at him on that 23rd day of october, when he announced his departure in a group meeting he’d called. I had wanted to inform him that we weren’t just some garage band that he could quit whenever he didn’t feel like being part of it anymore. I had wanted to knock some sense into him. Had wanted to yell at him for all of eternity. I could see poor young Nicky, who didn’t seem able to get any word past his lips. He had looked pale and wore a nauseous look on his face. He hadn’t looked angry, just hurt and sad. I felt bad for him, not for Kevin. Not at all for Kevin. AJ had looked just as angry as I felt, but kept his mouth shut, in fear of Kevin’s wrath. The only one of us who didn’t seem to share that fear was Brian. He just went off, like a bomb. He screamed words at Kevin I would never even begin to repeat. Words that hung in the air forever, poignant with the hurt and betrayal that was clearly visible in his eyes. Out of the four of us I think Brian took Kevin’s departure the hardest. He was family after all, and the sole reason Brian was even part of us. He’d often told us that his parents probably wouldn’t have allowed him to join us on the road if Kevin hadn’t promised them he’d look out for his younger cousin. So maybe he felt the most betrayed and abandoned of all of us, for him to get worked up like that. The whole meeting ended abruptly with a last sneer of Brian, that hit home considerably well.

“Well, if you want to go so badly, then just stay gone! We don’t need you! In fact, I guess it would be better this way! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

After Brian had stormed out of the room, Kevin looked at the rest of us, helplessly. His green eyes pleading us to say something, to tell him that Brian had been way out of line. That it was his life, and that he should be able to do with it what he wanted. That Brian would come around and would learn to accept his heavily made decision. That everything was going to be fine and that Brian would forgive him. I had just shrugged at him. There was nothing I had to say to him. No one of us had. Right then it had felt as if Brian had said everything we all had wanted to say. It never appeared to us that Brian had never exploded like that before…

 

Kevin blames himself now, I know he does. I also know that it probably wasn’t his fault. I assume every one of us can think of a reason to blame themselves. I know we have to search harder, deeper. For the same reason I know that something had been going on long before the 23rd, before Kevin even thought about leaving. Because Brian had been out of line, I realize that now. There had been an irrational rage, a dark fear in his voice that makes me presume that it wasn’t directed at Kevin, that he had screamed at his cousin for reasons we didn’t understand, reasons Kevin didn’t even know. Now all I have to find out is where the rage and fear did come from. That’s all. 

PREVIOUSLY: ''I’m trying to go by the dates, dates that stand out in my mind. Dates that could be holding the key to a solution, to an explanation, to a chance to make sense out of a senseless deed.'

1.       SECRETS TO KEEP

 

Guilt is a funny thing. It makes you do things you’ll regret, makes you suffer, eats you up inside. Leaves you frustrated, and wondering if you could have done things different. Cause if you could, then you might have been able to stop it. If you had known everything at the start, would you have changed anything? Why, Brian? It’s the only question I find myself asking for over three weeks.

 

6th of October 2005

I had promised him. Promised not to tell anyone about it. I know I should have, but I could never break a promise, it’s not in my nature to do so.

I cannot seem to think back further than that Wednesday in October. It was the first day I clearly noticed the change that had taken place in Brian. We were at the studio, somewhere in Orlando. All we had been breathing lately was studio. The other three were busy recording, and Brian and I were bored, for we had already finished for the day. I offered to go into the city together, but he refused. Said that there was something he needed to get done. I hadn’t asked him what, but found out when I walked in on him later that evening in a dark hotel room.

“Hey Brian T, Howie D is back!” I was in a good mood, getting a massage in my hotel room always puts me in a good mood. I saw him jump sharply when my, a bit too enthusiastic, shout reached his ears. But he jumped an awful lot lately. I had thought then that he was just a little bit overworked. Stress had never been a good thing for him. Put him in the hospital once. Of course, compared with what’s happening now, that was child play. I just can’t feel bad for him…  I wasn’t too worried about it then. We all tend to stress out a bit between albums. All we have to do is find a way to blow off some steam. My mom always said that. It’s the reason why I water-ski. I didn’t know if Brian had a way to blow off steam, but he’d better find one. Because next to the Backstreet Boys, he needed to take care of the whole ‘family life’ now as well.  I always knew Brian would be the first one to become a father. It suited him and I was proud of him.

“Jeez Howard, do you always intend on walking in on people to scare the crap out of them?” I would have laughed, if his tone hadn’t been so angry. Boy, he must have been really stressed out.

“That depends if their conscience is bugging them or not.” I remember the look he gave me, scared and confused, as if I had found out his biggest secret. I saw him hide whatever he had in his hands, behind his back. The room was too dark to see what it was, but by Brian’s movement, I could clearly tell he was hiding something. Not his smartest move.

“What you got there, B-Rok?” I asked him tentatively.

“Nothing.” Came the quick and expected reply.

“Of course not.” I said and reached my hand as fast as I could behind his back. My fingers clasped something cold, something metal. Instinctively I knew immediately what it was. My father used to be a cop and had something just like it. I looked at my friend, shocked.

“Brian, what are you planning to do with that?” I tried to speak as slowly and authoritative  as I could manage, cause even though we are only about two years apart, he is still my younger brother. Plus, I had heard Kevin use the voice as well, and it always seemed to work. Of course, Brian wasn’t Nick… you couldn’t tell him what to do.

“It does not concern you, D.”

“Well, way I see it, you’re standing in the same room as I, with a gun in your hands, I’m allowed to be a little concerned.”

“Relax Howard, I wasn’t gonna shoot you.” Pfeww, well there went theories number one, two, four and seven. I like to list things, to write them down. It creates order out of chaos.

“Oh wow, isn’t that a relief, then who is the poor bastard you are gonna shoot?” I tend to get a bit sarcastic when things get heated up. I saw his eyes get bigger, as he realized he’d said too much. I didn’t expect him to tell me. We had never been so close that we shared all of our secrets.  But I know now that he wouldn’t have shared this secret even with Nick. So I wasn’t waiting for an answer, and unsurprisingly I didn’t get a real one.

“It’s not to shoot someone, it’s precaution.” Aha, well that got us in the middle of… nowhere.

“Precaution.” I repeated in a disbelieving tone.

“Yeah, so I can feel safe?” He said uncertain. I knew he was lying, I always know when he’s lying, cause my dad used to be a cop. He’d taught my brothers and sisters and I how to tell when someone is lying. And with Brian it is the easiest thing in the world. He is a bad liar. Couldn’t do it even if his life depended on it.

“Feel safe? You don’t feel safe? Why? We got the best set of bodyguards in the world!” There was a look in his eyes I couldn’t place anywhere. He almost seemed unbelieving, sceptic. So I decided to prove my point.

“Remember, when Q got you out of that mall, when all those fans came running down at us? You were screaming like a little baby!’’

“Was not!” I raised one eyebrow at him. No it wasn’t true, he was actually screaming like a little baby girl. But I didn’t tell him that, because he still held the gun in his hands.

“Well B-Rok, I am thrilled you are always thinking about safety, but what do you say you give that gun to me, and I’ll put it away safely for you?” I used a tone my dad used at me when I was younger and I was trying to cover my bread with a thick layer of peanut-butter, flinging my kitchen knife in all different directions. If that doesn’t seem like an accurate description, try to think about what would happen when clumsy ol’ Brian shoots himself in the knee by accident. I have seen him tumbling off the stage, running into persons and stumbling over his own feet on regular basis, even saw him play rugby once, which he finished with a whole new collection of colourful bruises. Prudence was not in his dictionary.

“What? No! Why?” Brian had questioned.

“For one, what if Baylee sees it? What if he touches it?” Baylee was only 2 years old, almost 3, and he would have no clue what to do with a 9mm, but mentioning his little boy sure seemed to work when I saw Brian frown deeply. Without a further word, he handed me the metal weapon. I sighed in relief. I didn’t like the idea of Brian with a gun. I still don’t, but with a whole different reason now.

“Howard?”

“Hmmm?”

“Please don’t tell anyone?” I had smiled. I had thought he was too embarrassed and wanted to keep it a secret. I was thrilled, though I was by no means untrustworthy, people usually didn’t share their secrets with me. Only AJ did, but AJ shared his secrets with everybody.

“Okay, Bri, you got it.”

 

I feel so stupid now. I should have told at least Kevin. He would have known what to do, he always does. I had put the gun away in one of the nightstand drawers of the hotel room, and never thought about it again. In fact, as far as I know, it’s still there.

I wish I had interrogated him more about the weapon, cause looking at him now, I am almost certain about what he would have actually done with it.

 

3. SHAMPOO

Thank the heavens for shampoo, cause if it weren’t for shampoo, God knows what could have happened that day… It was the day our perfect little world stopped turning and changed into a never ending nightmare. It was the day we should have seen coming, but didn’t. The day I transformed from Howie ‘That Underappreciated Backstreet Guy’ Dorough, into Howie ‘Paranoid Sherlock Holmes Detective’ Dorough, if I could trust AJ’s judgement. The day that changed something in all of us. Cause I would never have imagined sitting next to a dying friend in the hospital, writing in this stupid, goddamn journal, just to pass the time, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for a solution that will never come, no matter how hard I try. Don’t you see that I’m just trying to understand, Brian? I just need a reason, closure…



14th of November 2005
I wish it had been a blur. That I didn’t remember half of it. That I had been too much in shock to recall anything clearly. But that’s not true. I remember everything, like a movie in my head, like a broken record. It just repeats itself over and over again.

Finally, after a week of non-stop recording, we had a day off. We had been in New Jersey for three days now and management was urging us to finish the record. Though urging isn’t the correct term to use, in this case forcing seems more accurate. I think they just need to know that it’s not the year 2000 anymore. That we don’t need to bring out an album every year, cause nobody simply cares, and the few that do, have waited long enough to wait another month or so.

The day off came unexpected, but welcome. The studio was closed due to a funeral of one of the owner’s brothers.

Expecting to be working all week, Brian had left his family at home, so it was just the group of four of us in New Jersey. That is, if you don’t count the bodyguards, managers, PR-employees and assistants. I have long since learned not to count them in. They weren’t our friends, and they wouldn’t spend a day off with us.

It had been Nick’s idea to catch a movie together, as it always was Nick’s idea to catch a movie together. I don’t think there has ever been an action movie in theatres that he hasn’t seen. Everyone agreed on his proposal, except Brian. That was the last time I’d see him awake.

He complained vaguely about a headache and went back to the hotel by bus. By bus. I still wonder why he didn’t just call a taxi, or let his driver come up to bring him back, and apparently, I wasn’t the only one wondering.

“Did I just see him leave by bus?” AJ had asked no one in particular, perplexed.

“I think so.’’ I commented back.

“Why?”

“Hell, do I look like I know?” Cause I didn’t care, I just wanted to see the movie by then.

“Doesn’t he seem a bit, I don’t know, withdrawn to you lately?” It was one of those rare times AJ actually did try his best to be serious.

“No idea, maybe he really does have a headache.” I hadn’t wanted to think about it then. But I realize now that AJ had been right. Brian had seemed to be withdrawn those last days in New Jersey. He didn’t talk much and I hadn’t heard him tell a joke or seen him smile since… hell I don’t even remember the last time he smiled. Why didn’t we realize something was wrong with our brother then? Cause we’re a bunch of idiots, that’s why. It was very uncharacteristic for Brian not to wear a grin on his face or to be joking around. I only realize right now that the signs had been clear as daylight, we just chose to ignore them.. GODDAMNIT!!!

Sorry about that, I’m okay, just needed to yell at something. So why not at this stupid, useless notebook that doesn’t do its job?

After the movie, it was still early in the evening. So I dragged AJ and Nick with me to another movie, cause I didn’t want them to end up in a bar somewhere, cause we had to be bright and shining at the crack of dawn the next morning, going back to the studio. I must admit that I couldn’t have chosen a worse movie, and Nick made me promise to always let him pick the movie in future times.

I forced them to go back to the hotel after the trip to the theatre, and they agreed reluctantly. I feel like I’ve turned into a new Kevin since the original Kevin left. We went back together to the hotel that didn’t have room enough to place us all on the same floor. AJ and Nick were put in separate rooms on the 12th, while Brian and I got adjoining rooms on the 16th. I know Brian didn’t like to get up anywhere higher than 2 floors , but I couldn’t have cared less on that day. It was late now and I was still feeling disappointed by the lousy movie we had watched.

Just so you know, you didn’t miss anything, B-Rok.

I had just wanted to take a shower and change into my PJ’s and climb into a somewhat uncomfortable hotel bed to call it quits for that day. That was all, but it clearly had been too much to ask. Cause as I walked into the bathroom to catch my shower I noticed that there was no shampoo in my bathroom. Leave it to Howie D to get the worse out of four hotel rooms.

I remember wondering if maybe Brian would have gotten some shampoo. I remember hoping he wouldn’t be asleep yet. I remember I crossed the hallway on bare feet and in my pyjamas. I remember knocking on Brian’s door, but finding out it was already open. I remember a strange feeling of terror gripping me tight when I stepped into the room. It had been dark in there, I couldn’t see anything, but still I knew that something was terribly wrong.

I remember screaming my lungs out when I turned on the lights… the scene that was laid out before me was horrifying. I remember being rooted to the ground as I took it all in. The bottles of pills next to his hands, the slices on his arms, the blood on the carpet floor and his motionless body lying on his stomach in the middle of it all. I had never seen anything so horrible in my life before, and I couldn’t keep my dinner in my stomach at the sight. I stormed into the bathroom and spilled the entire meal into the toilet. I didn’t want to get back into the bedroom, I was sure he was dead. Panic had never made as much sense as it did at that particular moment. I couldn’t think clearly and the walls seemed to close in on me. The air seemed too thin to breathe properly and I was scared out of my mind. Somehow I got myself back in control, as there was something bugging me at the edge of my thoughts.

After steeling myself, I stepped back into the room and walked in a straight line to where Brian lay. I was so afraid, I had only touched a dead person once before, my sister Caroline. It had made me wish I would never have to do it again.

But Brian wasn’t dead. Yet. His eyes were closed, and he wasn’t just pale, he was grey. If I hadn’t felt the extremely weak pulse underneath my fingertips when I checked for an unexpected heartbeat, if I hadn’t noticed him breathing slightly, irregularly against my hand, I would sure have thought him to be dead. I also knew it wouldn’t be long ‘til he actually was. I remember how I tried to gently roll him on his back, while whispering soothing words either to him or to myself. I told him all was gonna be fine, while hoping I was just having a bad dream as a result of the scary movie we had watched. I remember lifting his limp and too light body into my arms and carrying him across the room and laying him down warily on the somewhat uncomfortable bed. But everything was better than seeing him lying lifelessly on the floor.

I needed to get help. Call Kevin, he’ll know what to do!
Was the first thing that popped into my mind. Idiot. I couldn’t call Kevin, he was back in Orlando, hundreds of miles away from me and from his dying cousin. And because I couldn’t call Kevin, I called the second best thing, 911.

“Good evening, what’s your emergency?” Why would they even say ‘good evening’, I wondered in a flash. Nobody that called 911 was usually having a ‘good evening’.

“I think one of my friends has tried to kill himself.” It was the first time I spoke, or even thought that sentence out loud. It made me shudder and I felt a new wave of panic coming up.

“Sir? Sir, is he breathing?” The young woman on the phone snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked at Brian. Was he breathing? I couldn’t remember, so I checked again.

“Only just.”

“Okay, it’s important you stay on the phone and tell me what happened. I’m going to send an ambulance, what’s the address?” Good lord, the address. We never had to remember the address. I looked around feverishly and spotted a folder on the night stand.

“Umm, it’s Westminster Hotel, Livingston, New Jersey,” I told her as fast as I could. A room number would be useful as well, Howard. “Ah, it’s room number 1633.”

“Right, help’s on the way. Can you tell me what happened please?”

“Ummm, I really have no idea, I just got here and found him like this.”

“I understand, but are there any clues in the room that could give away his condition?” She offered. I looked around in the room, the prescription bottles still lay abandoned on the floor, just like the blood. I felt my stomach churning again as I picked up one of the bottles.

It read Valium. Where’d he get these from? There were other pills as well, names I couldn’t pronounce, but I did my best as I cried them through the phone. I knew in the back of my mind that if Brian really had taken this many pills, he was going to die for sure. The woman at the other end of the line kept sickeningly calm, as I told her about the slices on Brian’s arms, which brought me even more on the verge of madness. Tears streaming freely out of my eyes to indicate the fear and helplessness I felt. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to get out, as I waited for the ambulance to arrive, as I watched Brian getting worse by the second. His breathing got more forced and the towels, that I had wrapped around his arms, after I had brought them with me from the bathroom, were still soaking themselves with his blood. It was then that I realized that the ambulance heading our way, would probably come too late. I told the woman on the phone about this and I suppose she could hear the panic in my voice clearly.

“Sir, calm down, it’s important that you stay calm. Now, do you know how to perform CPR?”

Oh my God! my mind screamed.

Was she new or something? Didn’t she know that mentioning the word ‘CPR’, didn’t calm me down in the less? Yes, I know how to do CPR, and I suspect I am the only Backstreet Boy that knows how to. My dad made me take first aid lessons, and have I mentioned that my dad used to be a cop? But I had never done it on anything else than a dummy, and I surely wasn’t ready to do it on one of my band mates.

“Don’t you do that to me, you bastard…”

Fortunately I didn’t have to consider it a minute longer, when an energetic team of paramedics burst through the door. For a moment I thought they were going to throw themselves at me and Brian, the way they wasted no time to dash to the bed, like lions would jump at a helpless prey.

But then I got shoved aside and I released the unnoticed breath I had been holding in for a long time. I felt like there was a huge responsibility taken away from me and sighed in relief.

Relief turned to horror and the world came to an abrupt halt, when Brian neatly chose that moment to decide breathing was too big of an effort and just stopped breathing altogether. The shallow, quick and ragged gasps for air I was able to hear so clearly before, had turned into silence. I found myself crashing to my knees when I saw the fuss around my brother increase.

“We need to intubate and get him to the hospital now, before he crashes!” One yelled in a deep and rushed voice.

I saw them try to cram a tube down Brian’s throat, saw them attach some kind of bag to it, saw his chest move again in sync with the rhythmic squeezes the young intern gave the plastic bag and I knew she held Brian’s life in her hands. I only hoped that she realized that as well.



He’s still not able to breathe on his own. I’m not sure he will ever be able to again. Every time I see his chest rise and fall, I know it’s not him doing it. It’s those goddamn machines doing all the work for him. I don’t know how he feels about being kept alive like this, and I sure as hell do not care. He wanted to die so badly that he tried to kill himself, so we’re keeping him alive. It doesn’t seem fair, but I like to think of it as punishment. Still, something is nagging me. Something tells me this wasn’t the whole story. There are things that don’t fit.

The sharp object he used to slice his arms up, for example, were never found. Maybe he chose to get rid of them in some way, but where did he find the time to do that? The cops had dismissed everything to suicide fairly quickly, said the note on the night drawer was prove enough. Once they didn’t need it anymore, I requested to keep it.

A note. Brian had left a note. He wouldn’t do anything he considered of great importance without planning everything out into the smallest details. Of course there was a note, and it was supposed to explain everything, but all it did was screw things up even worse than they already were.

It didn’t say much, and if Brian had chosen to be cryptic in his final moments, he sure did a good job.

“Dear everyone,

you know I love every single one of you very much, I just couldn’t love myself anymore. Not with everything I’ve done. You know none of this is your fault and you don’t have to feel bad for me. I’ll be okay…

961317 146 (my parent’s new number, just take the one’s before)

Love you, Brian’’



It’s his handwriting, I can’t deny that. I’d recognize it anywhere, cause next to our doctor-like scribbles, Brian has the writing of a little school girl.

But call me an idiot, but even I know that phone numbers don’t consist of 9 digits…

1.       LOST AT MIDNIGHT

 

I suck at math. My high school math teacher and I were not the best of friends. He used to get frustrated with me as I couldn’t seem to understand anything he’d tell me.

The numbers on the note have been giving me a headache for over four weeks and I am this close to giving up. I’ve tried to sum them up, subtract them, multiply and divide them, but nothing seems to make any sense. Whenever Brian decides to be cryptic with numbers, you are never gonna figure it out. Because I’m just not a mathematician, but I know Brian would like to be. Oh well, his algebra may be better, but his Spanish still sucks. He always had a thing for numbers and mathematical problems, and so does AJ. But I know that both are not gonna help me figure out the note.

We’ve all taken the things that happened four weeks ago differently, but I guess eventually it’s all the same. At first there was shock and disbelief, and above all a sense of indescribable fear. Not only from us, but from the rest of the world as well. Brian’s attempt had gone all over the world in no time. But he was mostly described as just another popstar unable to take the stress of the popstar life. He was just another celebrity found almost dead in his hotel room, like so many before him. The fans had sent us tons of letters and cards expressing their sadness and impiety. I know they mean well, but all it did is turn the sadness into anger. I can’t help but wondering why the whole group is falling apart. First Kevin leaves, then Brian decides life’s not worth living anymore, Nick takes off to God knows where and AJ makes a big deal out of stating the Backstreet Boys don’t exist anymore. He makes it pretty clear he doesn’t want to have anything to do with the rest of us anymore, so I can forget about his help with my mathematical problem.

 

15th of November 2005

Brian would die, I was so sure of it. It was well past midnight when they stabilized him enough to bring him to a hospital. in a perfect world I would have been allowed to go with them, but the world had yet proven to be a cold and dark place again, so I had to stay behind. I have never felt more alone than I did the moment I saw the paramedics bring Brian out of the room. Once they were gone, I came to my senses and stormed after them. They took the elevator, but I figured the stairs would be faster. Once I reached the twelfth floor, I changed my mind though. I forgot about the panic I felt and started thinking about everything  else. I concluded Nick and AJ had a right to know what was going on as well, so I dashed through the hallway of the twelfth floor, in search of their rooms.

Nick’s came in view first, and as I started banging on his door, screaming for him to open the door, I could hear him shuffling around, mumbling sulkily.

“What?!”

“Nick… I… Brian… he… we… and then…” I could read in Nick’s expression that he didn’t understand, as he watched me with a funny look on his face. I only then realized what I must have looked like. I was standing in front of his door, wearing pyjama’s, on my bare feet, and my hands still covered with Brian’s blood. Nick shrunk back, his eyes widening.

“The hell did you do?!” he yelled at me. 

That was my signal to blurt everything out at once, my flood of words hit him like a ton of bricks and he kept on shaking his head throughout the whole story. There were tears of disbelief in his eyes and he was shaking by the time I told him the scary thoughts that had spooked through my head when Brian had stopped breathing.

“No…” was all he managed to say, swaying unsteadily on his feet. I gripped him by his arms and decided the moment had come to be strong, and to finely tell Nick what to do, because he seemed at a total loss.

“Nick, he’s not dead yet! We gotta get AJ and then we’ll go to the hospital okay? It’s gonna be alright.” Nick was only 25, not used to situations like these (neither was I, but that was out of the equation right then) and seemed on the verge of freaking out.

“Howard, if this is one of your jokes, to scare me off, I’ll kill you…” his threat got lost in his shaky voice and he looked like he was desperate to hear me tell him it was just a joke, that I sure scared the crap out of him, and that we were all able to sleep ‘til the next morning. If it were only that simple…

“Nick, I wish to God I am only joking, but I’m not. Brian might be dying and we gotta go.”

There was no point in elaborating the conversation and I dragged him out of his room, well on my way to AJ’s, when I heard him say he didn’t want to go with us.

“Excuse Me???”

“I’m not going!”

“You don’t have a choice, now come on!” I was already at AJ’s door, bringing my fist up to bang on it, when Nick started to cry. Great, I had only been the eldest of the group for two weeks, and I already made Nicky cry… How I wish Kevin was here…

AJ must have heard the commotion cause the door opened and revealed a somewhat angry looking AJ McLean, wearing nothing but his boxers. The same expression  appeared on his face as on Nick’s, not even ten minutes before. I imagine seeing me in pyjamas with bloody hands and Nick crying a few feet away from me, was grasping his attention like it should.

“Oh, this better be good.”

I was thinking of ways how to explain things best, cause I knew AJ needed a different approach than Nick. But Nick beat me to it.

“Brian tried to kill himself!” he cried out. Sure Nick, don’t sugar coat it.

I didn’t think AJ would be that quick to get fully convinced and I was right. He watched Nick quizzically and then he turned to me.

“Is he drunk?” he asked in a bored tone, “what the hell are you two doing at my door in the middle of the night looking like that? Dude, is that blood?!” He pointed at me.

Well, it was now or never.

“It’s not my blood.”

“What the fuck happened?!!” I didn’t have time for this, we needed to get to the hospital. frustrated I opened my mouth and then…

“Brian tried to kill himself!” Nick repeated, sounding a lot more convincing this time, a lot more angry too. It seemed to work as well. Stunned, AJ looked at me for confirmation. I looked away and nodded ever so slightly.

“Fuck! I just talked to him this afternoon!” He yelled, bringing his hands up to his face.

“Take it easy, Alex, it might not even be so bad.” I lied, and he knew it.

“Don’t screw with me D, we’re talking about B-Rok, he’s never gonna kill himself! Joke’s over, I ain’t buying it!” He desperately screamed, forcing me to defy him.

“I’m not joking McLean! I just saw him! I know what he did!” I yelled equally as loud and noticed Nick getting restless behind me. AJ opened his mouth, thought for a moment, looked at my appearance, then at Nick’s sad face, and finally he couldn’t deny it much longer and closed his mouth.

“But why?” he cried

“I wish I knew.” I watched as all the anger and denial fell from his face and were replaced by shock and misunderstanding. I knew he believed me, he just couldn’t belief what happened. Stepping backwards, he bowed his head.

“How’d he do it?”

“We don’t have time for this! He could be dead for all we know!” Nick yelled at us.

“Nick’s right, we need to get going.” I stated. Nick’s right?

“Okay, let me put on some clothes first,” AJ sighed, turned around and disappeared from view.

“You may want to put on something else too,” Nick pointed at me and I knew he didn’t just mean the pyjama.

“Right, see you in ten minutes, don’t be late!” I warned him.

 

Fifteen minutes later we were all packed in AJ’s SUV. He brought one on every studio trip we did, so we would always have a car of our own. He drove in silence, with a grim expression on his face. I had told him the details while we were waiting for Nick. Needless to say, he didn’t like it. Hadn’t said a word after I finished talking.

“Do you think he’s gonna make it?” Nick asked me.

“I don’t know, Nicky.” I answered in all honesty.

“I didn’t ask what you knew, I asked what you thought.’’ His reasoning didn’t make any sense, but I couldn’t get myself to keep my mouth shut.

“I think he will, Frack.” He looked at me with big, blue eyes, that just needed comfort and guidance, two things I couldn’t give them. That’s Brian’s job.

“What are they gonna do to him?” he asked, fearful again.

“Who?”

“The doctors.”

“I don’t know.”

“They’re gonna pump his stomach dry, see if there’s anything worth saving left.” AJ spat. The hate and anger burning in his voice and in his eyes. My concern for him grew bigger. It all seemed like  something he was familiar with. “Probably not,” he added in a hushed tone, believing only he could hear it.

“He’s gonna be just fine!” I yelled trough the car, preventing Nick from total panic.

To my surprise Nick didn’t panic, he just sat back in the backseat and asked in a monotone voice: “Are we there yet?”

“Almost.” The hospital sign was already visible and AJ seemed to be driving faster and faster as we got closer.

Once we reached our destination, Nick stormed out of the car without waiting for AJ to park it. I followed him into the emergency room and together we stormed at the service desk. The young man at the desk looked at us with worry.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” He had a bit of a Latin accent.

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know…” Nick hesitated and I took over.

“Has there been anyone that was brought in for a supposed suicide attempt?” I could see Nick flinch as I spoke the words out loud.

“Umm, yeah, about forty-five minutes ago. They’re in trauma room number 4, but I can’t allow you to go there… they’re still working on him…” It sounded like music to my ears, they’re still working on him, it meant he wasn’t dead yet.

“Please, I just need to know if he’s gonna be okay, please, let me see him,” Nick pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything about his condition. A doctor will speak with you two, or three,” he said when he saw AJ tramp towards us, looking very pissed off, “in the meantime you can sit in the waiting room.”

We did as we were told. Defying hospital policy wouldn’t help anybody, we knew that, but still we couldn’t help but try to steal sneaky glances at trauma room number 4 every once in a while. We waited in silence, we waited for answers, for life, or for death. We waited in silence, saw other people in the ER, which thankfully wasn’t so crowded at 2 am, who whispered and pointed at us. Normally I didn’t mind getting recognized. In fact, it usually made me proud, but at that night, I just wanted to hide. Wanted to be somewhere far away, in a world where my friends wouldn’t be stupid enough to try such a stunt as suicide.

“Who’s gonna call Leighanne?” AJ broke the silence with a question none of us had wanted to ask.

Leighanne thought her husband was perfect. She was very insensible when it came to his sorrows and fears. But then again, I think we all were. I didn’t know if she could live with the thought of what happened that night.

“I’ll do it.” Nick stood up and stretched his way too long legs. He surprised me for the second time that night. “Can I borrow your phone?” Looking at me he reached out his hand. I handed him my phone, which I had on me all the time.

When he came back, he looked even more pale then he did before. It seemed like he had been yelled at, cause he always made the same face when Kevin went off at him.

“She’s on her way.” He slumped down on the chair furthest away and didn’t say anything ‘til the doctor came in.

“Morning young men, my name is dr. Rosswes, are y’all with Brian Littrell?” he had a thick Southern accent. Brian would have loved that. After AJ and I had nodded obediently, he took a chair and sat in front of us. Nick decided he would probably get more information if he got closer, and he pushed his chair with a loud, scraping sound towards us.

“Well,” he sighed and I already knew what was coming. “I’m afraid I don’t have very good news.” Oh my God, he’s dead!

“Brian has taken a lot of medication tonight. We did our best to get most of it out of his stomach before it could do any damage, but I fear that there is still a great amount of drugs that entered his system. That and the blood loss could be fatal.”

“Could be?” I could hear the spark of hope in Nick’s voice.

“I’m sorry, but I’m afraid he’s not gonna make it through the night…”

 

And here we are, about thirty nights later, and he’s still alive. Well, sort of… somewhat…

Dr. Rosswes wasn’t right, Brian made it through that night, and the next and the next. I don’t know how, or why he would even bother. He didn’t get any better though. But he hasn’t gotten worse either, though I think any worse state than this is death. He’s been in a coma for four weeks now, and nothing has changed. He’s still getting those horrible seizures, indicating that the poisonous drugs have done their job. They destroyed nearly everything in him, leaving him bleeding, making him go through yet another surgery. It won’t be long ‘til he dies on the table, I keep telling myself that, but it hasn’t happened yet. I know the doctors have no idea as to what to do with him and I keep on wondering if it’s fair to keep him suffering like this. I know he did this all to himself, but can’t we at least fulfil his wishes and let him go? I wonder that all the time, as I sit beside him. I haven’t done anything else these past four weeks. I’ve been so focused on finding answers that I never realized that maybe, just maybe there are no answers. Not in the way I’ve been searching them anyway…

 

961317   146

 

It’s my last hope, but I can’t figure out my last hope… 

1.       CALCULATIONS, OR ‘THE ART OF CONVICTION’

17th of December 2005

Life goes on… but not for me. Everyone thinks I’m paranoid, even traumatized and in denial. Everyone has gone away. Only me and Brian are left. And Harold. For some reason he can’t let go of his little brother either. I never get a chance to talk with him though, as he always leaves when I come in. And while everyone’s trying to go on with their lives, we’re the only ones left here.

I’ve never seen Leighanne as mad as she was the day I had to tell her what happened. But she wasn’t mad at me, but at her husband. Said words like ‘abandonment’,  ‘unfair’, ‘selfish bastard’ and ‘lying asshole’. Words I often heard being repeated by my fellow band mate AJ McLean. I know he has every right to be disappointed and angry at Brian, for we were all giving him a hard time whenever he had been depressed, drunk, or stoned and finally ended up in rehab. But I also think he’s being a hypocrite. Of all people he should be able to understand what Brian was going through… . I suspect he would have ended up just like Brian if Kevin hadn’t interfered back in the day. But once Kevin left, everything went wrong. Nobody interfered with Brian, cause we had no idea what was going on. He just didn’t like to share his problems, he never did. With AJ it had been clear as daylight when he was drunk or depressed. He even offered me coke at one point. I told Kevin and Kevin had a great, long and loud talk with him, in which he did most of the talking. But with Brian I had never been able to tell what exactly he was thinking behind the great wall of all the jokes, pranks and apparently fake smiles. Had never noticed a crumbling façade of the lie that had become careless, goofy and funny Brian Littrell.

I had tried to talk to AJ about 2 weeks ago, to get him to help me figure out the numbers, but he didn’t wanna have anything to do with the band anymore. Brian had scared him off big time. I tried to convince him that there was something off about the suicide note, but he didn’t listen. He just wouldn’t freaking listen to me!

 

2nd of December 2005

“Dude, just listen, there’s gotta be something with those numbers man!”

“D, would you just shut up?”

“Don’t you wanna figure out what happened?”

“No, I don’t! Cause I don’t fucking care anymore!”

I knew he didn’t mean that. He couldn’t mean that, could he?

“You don’t mean that…”

“The hell I don’t! Brian wanted to kill himself, Howie, I suppose everybody thinks about doing it now and then, but he just went along and did it…”

I had stared at him, couldn’t believe my ears. I certainly had never thought about doing it before. He noticed my concerned expression.

“Forget what I said, Howard. Brian wanted to die, it’s his choice, there’s nothing we can do for him. So why are you still bothering?”

“Yeah? Well, if he wanted to die so badly, then why isn’t he dead yet, huh? Why is he holding on like this?”

“Because we force him to!” AJ had exploded at me. I didn’t know how to reply, but I knew he wasn’t right. If Brian had really wanted to die so badly, then no amount of machinery could have kept him alive. At least that was my theory.

AJ had screamed more accusations at me. How I should go on with my life, how I should leave Brian be, how I should stop obsessing over his near death. Finally he yelled that he couldn’t care less whether Brian would live or die. I knew he was lying, he wouldn’t have exploded at me in the first place if he wasn’t. I am growing more and more concerned about him. He seems to spend a lot of his time on his own, and I don’t want to know what he does when he’s alone. I haven’t seen him in two weeks now, but I know he’s still near New Jersey somewhere.

 

Actually, I don’t mind sitting here in this hospital, in this room. It calms me down, gives me a chance to think and write. And since I’m the only one besides Harry that keeps an eye on Brian, I will play the part of guarding brother for once when Harry isn’t there.

“What do the numbers mean? Why are they there?” I ask to no one in particular. Brian is certainly not able to hear me, even less to answer me. It never even occurred to me to talk to him. I heard somewhere that you needed to talk to people in a coma. But that’s when there’s still hope left. There is no hope for Brian. Harry doesn’t seem to think so, he tells his little brother complete stories, jokes, the news and even the weather sometimes. He seems desperate to get through to his brother and never accepted the fact that Brian is never gonna wake up again. I have. I don’t sit in this room waiting for my friend to wake up. I sit here to think, to calm down to show everyone that I haven’t given up hope of finding answers, even if I have. But mostly I’m here because when Brian does die, at least I’ll know…

961317  146

It’s not a phone number, as Brian suggested. It’s not a safe security number. It’s not a bank account, it’s not a password, not an activation number, not a personal number and not a credit card number.

Maybe it’s a code…

Maybe it’s a code…

A CODE!

If it’s a code, I’ll need Nick! He and Brian used to be experts on codes. They had several ways of writing messages to each other using very complicated secret codes, just for fun, to see who could come up with the most complex code imaginable and still make it understandable. The code language had lived among the two for quite some time, until they began to talk it back at each other, and no one could understand them anymore. Not trusting the two rascals, Kevin put an end to the secrets that only they could share.

What if Brian had left a message for Nick? What if he had been lucid enough to think up one of their old codes and had used it to contact one of the persons he trusted most?

Shit!

I don’t think Nick even knows about the note Brian left on that terrible day. It was taken by the police and I’ve had it in my possession ever since they had no use for it anymore. Nick never even bothered to figure out if his best friend had even left anything. In fact, I haven’t seen Nick since that terrible day. He had left right after we had been allowed to see Brian for the first time and let AJ and me deal with Leighanne, who had gone completely mad after she learned about what her husband had done. I guess she’s at home with Baylee now, trying to figure out what to do. I feel hopelessly sad for Baylee, nobody has told him what happened to his father. For all he knows, daddy just disappeared into thin air. Not that he’d understand what’s going on. His third birthday came and went with a tiny birthday party, that nobody really felt like attending. Even the birthday boy himself seemed down and distant, asking everyone on his party if they knew if daddy was gonna come and celebrate or not. Just desperately looking for a father that will never return, but he doesn’t know that yet, cause no one has the nerve to tell him. He must feel abandoned and betrayed, even if he can’t figure that out himself just yet. I actually tried to tell him that his daddy was really sick and couldn’t be with him yet, but that he missed him and would have been there with his little boy if he could. I tried to stay as close to the truth as I could and to be extremely vague, so that he couldn’t ask any questions. But three year olds always know how to ask the most impossible questions.

 

24th of November 2005

“Daddy sick?” the kid had asked me with big blue eyes, that reminded me so much of his father’s, it made me cringe. His attention was focused solely on me, and I knew I made a horrible mistake when I realized this was probably the first time he heard anything about his father since Brian had mysteriously disappeared from his life two weeks prior.

“Yeah, daddy’s very sick. And what do you need when you get sick?”

“Me’cine!” he had cried happily and I flinched.  I hadn’t meant that, I had meant the word ‘sleep’ not ‘medicine’. I thought about how Brian had probably taken enough medication to make sure he’d never need it anymore. I know AJ must have thought the same thing, cause he got suspended from the party by Leighanne for the thing he yelled next.

“Ha! Your daddy has had more than enough medicine, boy!”  Leighanne got mad and sent him away. Leighanne gets mad at everyone lately, but it’s always directed at the same person in the end, I just hope she doesn’t lose her temper with Baylee.

The young boy didn’t leave me be. He had figured out if he wanted answers he needed to come to me. He asked me questions I didn’t answer to. What was wrong with daddy? When was daddy coming home? Did daddy ever talk about him? Did I want to tell daddy that Baylee loved him very much and missed him too? It was heart breaking, the hope on such a young face, and I couldn’t bring myself to lie to him anymore, so I kept my mouth closed altogether. After a while Baylee stopped his endless fire of questions and sauntered away with a disappointed look on his little face. Not soon after his interrogation with me, he had found another victim to question. That’s how he spent the rest of his birthday, hoping things that everybody else knew were never going to come true.

 

 

Nick hadn’t been on the party. He hadn’t been anywhere he needed to be, he seemed to have just vanished from the face of this earth. Maybe I should worry a little bit more about him, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I do need to find him now though…

 

20th of December 2005

It took me three days to find Nick Carter. I had no idea where to even begin looking for him. He didn’t answer his phone, did not reply on my e-mails and no one seemed to know where he went. I know Kevin had tried to track him down countless times, but without any promising results. Not even his family could tell me anything useful.

But finally, in a flash of total brilliance, I figured it out where Nick would probably be. When everything else fails, he had once told me, you have to get back to where you came from. Back to basics.

Jamestown, New York.

There’s not much of value in Jamestown, but I knew what I was looking for, so I couldn’t care less for this little town. I knew exactly where I needed to be.

The Yankee Rebel had long since changed its name and the exterior didn’t resemble anything of the old days. But Nick had showed me the bar that had been his father’s pride for years, a few times before. If Nick wouldn’t be here, I told myself, I would report him as a missing person after all. The bar was dustier and darker than I remembered. The bartender looked up as I came into his bar. If he recognized me at all, I didn’t notice it. He looked at me crankily and pointed to a clock above the toilet doors.

“Bit late, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just looking for someone who might be here.”

“Who?”

“Mister Nick Carter.” I saw the hooded figure in the back look up slightly, before he turned his back on me again.

“Ha! Isn’t everyone looking for Nick Carter? I don’t know kid, but I think you stepped into the wrong bar. We don’t serve people like you!” I knew what he meant, but I wanted to ask him anyway, just to hear him say it out loud. I never got the chance, when the mysterious man in the red hoodie grabbed me by my arm and dragged me out of the gloomy bar. We entered the tiny park across the street and sat down on a bench underneath a giant oak-tree, that practically filled up the entire park.

“Asshole…” he muttered.

“Nice to see you too, Nick.” I replied heatedly.

“I wasn’t talking about you. Stupid bartender has been getting on my nerves these past two weeks. Asking way too many questions. ‘What’s your name?’ ‘You look really familiar’ ‘dude, aren’t you one of those Backstreet Boy gays?’ I’m not a Backstreet Boy goddamnit! Not anymore!”

“You’ll always be a Backstreet Boy…”

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but right now I’m basically ‘unemployed’, and so are you!” I didn’t answer. He was right, Backstreet Boys were over as soon as Brian decided to destroy not only his, but our careers as well. I can’t believe he didn’t realize the pain and problems he would cause if he killed himself.

“So how’d you find me?” Nick looked like he hadn’t slept in days, weeks probably. His face was shabby and his hair uncared for. I suspected the only thing he did all day was sitting in that filthy  bar, drinking beer after beer ‘til he was kicked out.

“Well, after I searched the entire earth ball for you, my final choice came down to the bar your parents used to own. Don’t you ever bail on us like that again!”

“Bail on you, bail on you?!” He yelled at me. Thankfully there was no one other than a few pigeons that could hear us, “so when Brian bails on us, it’s fine, but when I leave, the whole world crumbles down?”

“It’s not fine Nickolas, nothing is fine! We had to send AJ back to rehab two days ago, but you wouldn’t know that, cause you were off having your own bar party!” Kevin, who had magically returned from Orlando on the 18th, told me he’d caught AJ talking to a  piano, stupidly drunk, “Kevin’s not been sleeping for days, because he blames himself for everything. Leighanne’s been shutting everyone out of her life, and she drags Baylee down with her. Harry’s desperate, and I’ve been trying to figure out what the hell happened, but I don’t know a single thing I didn’t know since I started! Brian fucked up everything! This whole world is fucked up!” I screamed ‘til I couldn’t scream anymore. Nick grew silent and stared at me with shameful eyes.

“I can think of only one reason why you would be here now,” Nick said with a grim expression.

“What?” I replied curtly.

“He’s dead, isn’t he? That’s what you came to tell me. He died, he finally pulled it off…”

I shook my head. “No Nick, he didn’t die. That’s not what I came here for.”

“Then why?”

“I came here to talk to you, to ask for your help…” He seemed surprised, I had never asked him for help before, I don’t think anyone ever has.

“My help? With what? Funeral plans? Why do you even still care about that piece of shit?” I closed my eyes and pretended I hadn’t heard Nick refer to his best friend as ‘piece of shit’.

“No, I need your help Nickolas, because I think that there’s something off with Brian’s suicide. It just doesn’t make sense… did you know Leighanne’s pregnant again?” That certainly sparked his attention.

“What?!”

“Yeah, she came into Brian’s room the other day, screaming at him that she found out they were getting another baby boy, but that he apparently couldn’t care less. I asked her if Brian had known she was pregnant before the 14th, and you know what she said?”

“What?”

“He knew! He was about to become a father again, but he still went and killed himself? It just doesn’t make sense. You know how much he adores Baylee!”

“Well yeah, but…”

“Why? What reason could Brian have possibly had to put an end to everything? I’ve had a hard time figuring it out…”

“He did seem a little stressed out towards the end…”

“We’ve all been stressed out before Nick, but we didn’t go and killed ourselves!”

“But…”

“You know what? About a month before his attempt I discovered something.”

“What?”

I sighed deeply, I had never told anyone this before, because it would technically count as breaking my promise. “He had a gun Nickolas, I caught him with it when we had that day off early. I took it from him. He said he needed it for protection…”

“I think he needed it for a whole different reason, D.”

“Oh yeah, then why did he say it? You know he’s the worst liar in the world, man. Why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut?”

“What would he possibly need protection from? Huh? You’re paranoid, Howard!”

I didn’t know, so I didn’t elaborate. But as I was trying desperately to convince Nick about my theories, I realized how wrong this whole suicide scene had actually been.

“There’s something else too, that’s why I need your help.”

“What is it?”

Slowly and carefully I retrieved the note from my pocket. It was tattered and grimy, because I had used it so many times.

“This is what Brian left us.” He grabbed it from my hands and read it apprehensively and gave me back the paper.

“How come I didn’t know about this?” He choked out in a tearful voice.

“Because you disappeared before I had a chance to show you!’’ I shouted. Nick sighed and brought his hands to his face.

“What do you need my help for? It all seems pretty clear to me. ‘Don’t feel bad’, ‘not your fault’ ‘the things I’ve done’ What part is unclear to you Howard?”

“Oh, I don’t know, what about the last sentence?” He didn’t pick up on my sarcasm, and I suspected he really had no idea what I was talking about.

“So? It’s just a phone number Howard…”

“You are such an idiot! Phone numbers are at least 10 digits, Nick!”

“Why would he lie about it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out! Now, the numbers don’t stand for a bank account, password or any other personal number he could possibly have. I’ve already tried all that.”

“So?”

“So, I figured it must be some sort of code. That’s why I came here!”

“Because???”

“Because you are the first person I can think of whenever I hear the word ‘code’!”

Finally I could see a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “You mean those secret codes we used to think up? You think Brian could have left me a secret message?”

“I don’t know, but it’s our last chance…”

“Give me that! Do you have a pen?” I smiled. It worked, Nick was on board! I handed him the pen I always had on me for emergencies. “Care to explain what you’re gonna do, Nicky?”

“Well, if it’s a code, the numbers must stand for letters, right?”

I felt so stupid. I could have thought of that!

“I guess…”

“So way I see it, Brian always gave me some sort of clue, because I was younger and he thought it was unfair to leave me behind with just the numbers. Basically he considered me too stupid to figure out a damn code all by myself.”

“So what’s the clue? ‘My parents new number’?”

“No, I think the code consists of three parts. There’s the numbers, or the actual ‘code’. There’s ‘my parents new number’, or the lie to mislead the reader. And finally there’s the clue, ‘just take the ones before’.” I looked at him in total confusion. I had heard what he said, but he could have spoken Chinese for all I knew. I had never understood the fascination the two had shared in breaking these codes. But it seemed to be more of a puzzle than I had imagined. And Nick had been just as brilliant at solving them as Brian had been.

“So how do we break the code?”

“My first guess is to see if any of the numbers resemble letters of the alphabet.”

“Ah…”

“So there’s 9, 6, 1, 3, 1, 7  and there’s 1, 4, 6.”

“And?”

“Well, what does that spell?” He had circled the numbers and wrote the letters they resembled underneath. “So that would be: ’i’, ‘f’, ‘a’, ‘c’, ‘a’, ‘g’. space. ‘a’, ‘d’, ‘f’.” He stared at the letters for a long time. “That doesn’t make sense…” He concluded.

“What if it’s not 1 and 3, but 13?” I offered. I wanted to sound smart as well.

He scratched the letters and wrote underneath it.

“Could be, we could take 1 and 7 as 17 and 1 and 4 as 14… then we’ll have ‘i’, ‘f’, ‘m’, ‘q’. space. ‘n’, ‘f’.” He looked at the letters again and tried to figure out what they could mean. I only hoped they made sense to him, cause they certainly didn’t make sense to me.

“Still doesn’t make sense…” He finally said. We both sighed. We didn’t come this far to give up now.

“Wait! What about the clue?!”  I exclaimed.

“What about the clue?”

“‘’just take the one’s before’’?”

“So?”

“So! What are the letters in the alphabet before the ones you’ve written down?” I saw a smile spreading itself across his entire face, as he picked up on my idea.

“Good thinking, D!” I smiled too, happy he finally recognized the genius that was Howard Dorough.

“What do we get then?” I was desperate to know.

“Let’s see. H, E, L, P, space, M, E… holy crap…”

 

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

SHIT!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.       OUT OF HAND, OUT OF CONTROL

What do we do, when there’s nothing we can do? Where do we go, when there’s nowhere left to go? Who can we tell our story to, when nobody believes us? When all else fails, can we really say we tried everything we could? Was it out of our power? Is everything we have accomplished up ‘til this point all just a shadow of what we’re supposed to be? Can we ever really look someone in the eye and say goodbye? Is there any way to justify the fact that we’re about to end someone else’s life? Cause if there is, I don’t want to know it. I used to believe in things like God. I used to believe that the good guys would always win. I used to say that I was a believer. I used to, but I don’t anymore.

 

20th of December 2005

The moment we figured out the note, I had felt ecstatic, but a moment later, when I read the words ‘HELP ME’ over and over again, there was a sinking feeling in my stomach. Brian’s desperate cry for help was still in Nick’s hands, and he was looking at me. I looked back. Neither of us said a word, just thinking all the countless questions we didn’t dare to ask aloud. The words were clear as daylight, but they just didn’t make any sense. Why did Brian need any help? And what was so important that he needed to hide it in a code? If he needed help, why not write it down on a note in huge letters? Why hide it?

It were the questions I knew for sure Nick was thinking of as well.  We had decided we would go back to New Jersey together the next day. Apparently Nick was sick of denying the truth, though we didn’t know what the truth was anymore.

Nick had taken me back to the apartment he had rented. It was old, creaky and dirty, but it was all that I had expected from Nick. He offered me his bed, but I insisted I would do just fine on the couch, cause Nick’s bed was a paradise of filth. Don’t get me wrong, I love the kid, but he should work on his personal hygiene level.

That night I went to ‘bed’ with renewed hope and I felt motivated again. I knew I had Nick on my team now, as he seemed equally as fanatical as I to find the truth. And we’ll find it. I’m certain of it. We might be too late, but we’ll help Brian the way he had asked us to.

 

21st of December 2005

We got back in New Jersey late in the morning. I hate New Jersey and I must admit, Livingston is a depressing city. There’s nothing here but rain, cranky faces and dying friends.

I dragged Nick to the hospital with me. He hates hospitals, but I can’t have him running away again, we’re in this together now. I still felt ecstatic with the new information we had received from the note. It was like getting to a higher level in a video game you used to be stuck in. It felt like we finally accomplished something in my personal investigation.

When we entered the Intensive Care Unit though, the whole atmosphere seemed to be turning around instantly. Everyone was there…

Apprehensively I approached Kevin, who sat hunched over on one of the waiting room chairs. Nick followed closely behind.  The former Backstreet Boy sat with his head in his hands and had clearly not noticed us coming in. I saw other people as well, even Leighanne was there, tears streaming down her face, and there was only one conclusion I could make.

“Shit! No!” I knew it would happen one day, but that didn’t mean I would ever be ready for it.

Kevin looked up at me, he also had tears in his eyes. Standing up, he took me and Nick out of the room. He kept silence the whole way and I knew immediately where  we were going. Desperately I tried to prepare myself for what we were about to see. When we arrived at the door to Brian’s room, the feeling of distress overwhelmed me. Kevin opened the door silently, but neither Nick nor I got into the room. We didn’t want to face the truth.

“Brian had another seizure last night. It lasted for two minutes, then he flat-lined.” I heard Kevin say in an emotionless, monotonous voice. I felt Nick shuffle past me, as he had made up his mind and got into the room. Kevin stared at me and saw the fear in my eyes.

“The doctors got him back just in time.” He said simply.

My mouth fell open. “He’s alive?!”

“No Howard, you cannot call this alive anymore.” But still…

“What are you saying?”

“Right after they brought him back, they told me they couldn’t keep doing this forever, and I agree with them. That’s why I called everyone in here, to make a decision.” I knew where this was going to, and suddenly felt sick.

“No! Just no!”

“Howie, you’ve been by his side for almost two months, you know he’s not getting any better…”

“But…”

“Maybe it’s just better to let him go. That’s what he wanted after all.”

“No! You don’t understand, Kev! I can’t have been too late! I need to help him! He was asking for help, man, we just didn’t realize it! I need to find out what really happened! I need to save him!” I didn’t make any sense, I know that.

“You can’t save him, D. No one can. Finding out what happened, won’t bring him back…” Kevin said softly.

Finally, after two months, reality seemed to hit me. I had told myself for so long that Brian was not getting better, but still, somewhere in the back of my mind a little, irrational voice had told me that if only I could find out what caused Brian’s suicide, everything would magically turn out alright. Brian would be fine and we would all live happily ever after. It had become a mission, a personal goal, almost close to a religion to me. I had spent all my time to something that wouldn’t make a difference, cause Brian would still end up dead in the end.

Reality grabbed me by my throat and I sacked against the wall, into a chair.  Choking on the sobs that overtook my body, I brought my hands up to my face and cried out in grief. Vaguely I felt Kevin slumping down in the chair beside me and he wrapped his long arms around me. We sat there for a long time, ‘til a new question popped into my head.

“Who’s got to make the final decision?”

“Harold,” Kevin said resignedly. I nodded silently. But secretly I got new hope, cause I knew Harold would never give up on his little brother without a fight.  

1.       MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH

 

When I finally calmed down enough, I set a fearful foot into the room. The scene was heartbreaking. Nick just sat there beside the bed, the saddest look in his eyes, his hand locked in Brian’s, and he stroked his best friend’s head absentmindedly. But the thing that broke my heart wasn’t something I could see. Nick hadn’t noticed me coming in and he continued to sing softly to his best friend, like a mother would do to her sick child, his voice choking on the lyrics that came out with so much emotion that it made my throat clench up as well.

 

“When my heart did time in Siberia

Was waiting for a lie to come true

Cause it’s all so dark and mysterious

When the one you want doesn’t want you too…”

 

It had been Brian’s favourite song from our latest album, and he had told me confidentially that it had been his favourite song ever. Hearing Nick singing it brought back memories of a life we used to have. When our biggest concern had been if we got out on the street without any disguise, were the fans gonna recognize us? When our biggest concern had been for AJ, if we would be able to keep him out of any nightclubs. When  our worries had been for Nick, who didn’t seem able to keep himself from taking the same path as AJ had done. When our biggest concern had been for Kevin, who seemed to enjoy the popstar life lesser and lesser as days flew by. After he had recovered from the heart-surgery in 1998, we hadn’t worried much about Brian anymore. He just went, getting married, having babies, building a life he had always dreamt of. At most, we had to ask ourselves if maybe he hadn’t taken a bit too much coffee sometimes, when we watched him bouncing all around the room, stage, dancing studio or tour bus. But just like Nick, he had always had a high energy level, so we didn’t worry. But now we’ve had to worry about him for the past few months, and all of our former worries seem irrelevant. Nor Kevin, AJ, me or Nick had ever gotten themselves in such a horrible situation as Brian had managed to do.

Listening to Nick’s soft and tearful song, I couldn’t help but sing along.

 

“I gave myself away completely

But you just couldn’t see me

I was sleeping in your bed

But someone else was on your mind

In your head…”

 

The song ended abruptly when Nick turned around in his seat. He looked at me with helpless blue eyes full of so much sorrow and pain, that I had to look away.

“He loves that song.” Nick said in a thick voice.

I only nodded, because I didn’t trust my own voice enough to speak.

“It’s his favourite.” Nick also nodded to himself. I realized that Nick hadn’t seen his friend in the hospital yet. It was the first time he watched Brian slowly dying in front of him. I could only imagine what kind of impact that must have had on him. We sat in silence for a while, just focusing on the lifeless person on the bed. After sighing deeply, Nick finally spoke up.

“He’s never gonna wake up, is he?” All the hope had left his features and he seemed a lot older than I remembered.

“He still could. Doctors haven’t said he’s brain dead yet. So there must be something left of him that’s still in there.” I didn’t want Nick to lose hope. All hell would break lose if Nick lost hope. But mostly it was because I didn’t want to lose the tiny, little figment of hope I had still left.

“You really think so?” Nick watched me with a begging look. Please tell me you think so, they seemed to demand.

“Sure.”

Nick didn’t say anything. He just rested his head on Brian’s arm and started to cry.

Sure, Brian was like a brother to all of us, but Nick had been the one he was closest to. They had always shared everything with each other, from rooms to secret codes, to all of their darkest secrets. Well, almost all of their darkest secrets. Brian had been Nick’s hero, and Nick had been Brian’s little brother, that had loved him unconditionally. I couldn’t imagine what seeing his hero like this must have done to Nick. Without saying another word, I left the room.

 

The next time I came into Brian’s room it was two days later, and Nick had left. He was replaced by Harold and Leighanne, both staring absently ahead. As I came closer, I realized Brian wasn’t alone in his bed. A small, blond kid was cuddled up next to his father, big, fat tears sliding silently down his cheeks, out of his closed eyes. Leighanne looked up when I entered and walked straight at me to give me a tight hug. Something seemed to have changed her anger into grief, cause this was the first time I have seen her crying for her husband. But this was also the first time she allowed Baylee to know what happened to his daddy, and I wasn’t sure that had been her best idea.

“You shouldn’t have brought him here, Leigh.’’ I sighed.

“I couldn’t lie to him anymore. He has a right to say goodbye.” I couldn’t believe my ears. She told him?! You couldn’t just keep silent about their father to children, and then all of a sudden tell them he was dying.

“You told him?!”

“No, of course I didn’t! I just told him his father was very sick, but apparently he already knew that, because uncle Howard had already told him.” I swallowed hard when I saw the angry fire in her eyes again.

“How’s he taking it?” I asked to avoid the previous subject.

Leighanne sighed. “He’s not. Wouldn’t calm down until I allowed him to crawl into the bed to snuggle beside daddy. Kept screaming for Brian to wake up. It was terrible.’’

Nodding, I sat down beside her and we watched the two on the bed, both asleep, only one of them would wake up. But maybe…

“He could still wake up.” I muttered to myself. Ever since Kevin had told me, the feeling that Brian wasn’t lost forever kept getting stronger. And I only realized I had said it aloud when I heard the woman next to me scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous Howard. It’s false hope you’re running on. And we can’t keep him alive with false hope.” She motioned to her husband.

“No I guess not… but someone else can…” I looked at Harold, who seemed lost in thought, staring absently out of the window. He didn’t even notice I was talking about him. I sighed and Leighanne cleared her throat.

“I used to so angry with him… But now… I don’t know… After all he put me and Baylee through, I still can’t help but loving him… I mean, he must have had a reason right?” She said uncertainly. I could clearly see the doubt on her face, hear the desperation in her voice. I was proud of her, she finally had left the anger behind her and seemed ready to support her husband once more. I wanted to tell her that, but then the door opened and Nick came in. He looked a lot better than he had probably done in weeks. He had shaved, put his hair back in the original shape and seemed to have finally gotten some sleep.

“Full house,’’ he commented lightly as he stepped into the crowded hospital room. We all looked at him expectantly. I couldn’t imagine where his good mood could have come from.

“So, I talked to AJ yesterday,” he began.

“And?” I asked. I knew he liked to stretched information as long as he could and wouldn’t continue unless someone urged him to.

“I told him what Kevin told us,” he continued.

“And?” I questioned impatiently. I really wasn’t in the mood for this.

“You know what he said? He said ‘go ahead’, he doesn’t even care!” he yelled indignantly, “If Brian dies, he’s not invited on the funeral!”

I don’t think he realized what he said, but he must have when a collective gasp filled the room.

“Aww, shit, I didn’t mean it like that!” Nick apologized desperately. I shook my head at him, indicating that it was better he kept quiet.

“Nobody’s dying, Nickolas!” Harold’s voice boomed through the room. He seemed to have finally snapped out of his trance.

“Would you keep your voice down? Baylee’s sleeping,” I asked him.

“What’s he doing here?” Nick only noticed right then that there was a little boy sleeping on the bed against his father’s side.

“Long story, did you bring the note?” I questioned him eagerly.

“What note?” Leighanne and Harold asked simultaneously.

“Another long story,” Nick smiled with a smooth face, “Calm down, D, it’s right here.” I looked at him and nodded slightly. He had done right in not telling them. I didn’t want them to know what we were doing until we were certain about what we were doing.

“Are you guys still obsessing over that note Brian wrote?” Leighanne sighed annoyed.

“He left a note?” Harry must have felt left out.

“Yeah, he wrote one with a non-existing phone number on it. Howard been obsessing over it ever since.” I glanced at her indignantly.

“It wasn’t a phone number! It was a code!” Nick spoke excited.

“A…” She was interrupted by Baylee.

“Daddy?” I heard him ask in a hopeful voice. All heads in the room turned to the bed. Then I noticed Brian’s hand shaking slightly. My heart started to hammer in my throat.

“Daddy? Wake up!” Baylee exclaimed excitedly.

“Nick, get Baylee out of the room!” Harold yelled urgently. He must have thought the same thing as I did. It’s going wrong. Nick did as he was told and scooped Baylee up in his arms. The small three-year-old apparently did not approve of the way he was being treated.

“No, wanna stay! Stay with Daddy!” he yelled. I could still hear him shouting outside the door. Then Nick tried to distract him and his muffled voice came through the walls.

“Hey big boy, I heard you can already count to ten! Is that true?” Baylee’s yelling silenced, and a moment later we could hear him starting to count.

Meanwhile Harry was already hovering over his little brother. Brian’s eyes were opened wide, but I suppose he couldn’t see anything, cause only the whites were visible. He started to shake uncontrollably and I heard Leighanne shout in fear at the sight. I jumped into action and helped Harold trying to hold the man in the bed down. I felt him shaking against my arms, heard him choking on the tube that was in his throat and tried to keep track of the time as the convulsions got more intense as time went by. This is the end… I thought. The seizure seemed to last forever and the tremors weren’t lessening, I realized. I’ve only seen Brian seizing two times before. Two out of four. Harold had seen them all… The last one had only been three days ago. It wasn’t right, they were following each other up too close.

“How long?” I shouted at Harry. I didn’t need to shout, he was standing right next to me, but the stress of the situation forced me to.

“Four minutes!” He shouted back. Apparently he was feeling the same stress. This wasn’t good. I had read somewhere that any seizures lasting longer than two minutes could cause permanent damage.

Finally a set of doctors and nurses came in and took over the situation. We were all sent out of the room, into the waiting room, where Nick sat with Baylee on his lap. He looked up expectantly when we came in.

“And?” He questioned softly.

I couldn’t do anything but shake my head, wondering if the final decision Kevin had talked to us about, would even be our decision at all.

 

1.       DOING THE RIGHT THING

 

I have only felt this kind of fear once before. The day I went on a plane and hoped I would make it in time to say goodbye to my sister. I had been too late then, and I still regret that every single day. Everyone should be able to say goodbye to the ones they love. But now I’m thinking about it, I’m not sure if I even said anything that sounded like goodbye to Brian before. I can’t be too late again! That’s not going to happen! I know Brian has had seizures before, but this time it seemed so…  wrong, so… final.

Leighanne just asked me why I’m still writing in this notebook. I told her it’s for my ‘investigation’. But it’s more than that. It’s a perfect method of stress-relief. And it helps me sort my jumbled thoughts out and put them in some kind of order. And seeing that we’ve got nothing to lose anymore, I told her that as well. She actually said it seemed like a good idea and asked me if she could read my notebook. Maybe later, I told her. I’ll let everyone read it once it’s done, not sooner.

Nobody spoke the whole time we were waiting. Only Baylee chatted away as if there was nothing wrong. Well, he didn’t know any better. He had jumped of off Nick’s lap once his mother walked in, and has subjected her to a full interrogation. I can’t help but understand the kid, that demands answers from his mother. Leighanne hadn’t given him the information he was looking for though, and now his attention was focused on Nick instead. Baylee loved Nick, maybe because deep down, Nick was still a little kid himself. The youngest Backstreet Boy had done his best to tell Baylee a few jokes, but his arsenal of child-friendly jokes had long since dried up and now he was telling Baylee all about the practical jokes he and Brian used to play at each other and the rest of the group over the years. I don’t think Baylee understood half of it, but I heard him crow a few times as Nick mentioned a particular dirty one Brian had pulled on me years ago. Nothing like gory details to keep little three-year-olds amused. Leighanne was sitting opposite of them, next to me and listened carefully as well. She kept shaking her head when she heard all the stunts her husband used to pull on us, but I saw a constant smile on her face as well. Harold was staring off in the distance, lost in thought again.

“Oh Nick, how about that time in the mall a few months ago? Daddy sure wasn’t so brave then!” I suggested with a grin. My comment sent Nick into a fit of laughter and Baylee looked up at me with wondering eyes. “Wha happen Howiedee?” he asked me.

“Well, there was this huge group of girls that had been following us. Then all of a sudden…,” I paused for the dramatic effect, and it worked cause Baylee’s eyes got even bigger and his mouth fell open, “they began running at us! And you know what your daddy did?” Baylee shook his head vigorously. “You know what he did?” I stretched. Whatever Nick could do, I could do better.

“What he do?” Baylee almost screamed at me with excited anticipation. I figured the tension must have gotten too hard for him.

“He started screaming like a little girl!” I concluded ecstatically. I watched how the face of the little boy fell all of a sudden and he began to pout.

“Did not!” Good boy defending his dad.

“He did too!”

“Did not! You wong!”

“Oh he did! He screamed like a baby girl!”

“Well, if my sources are correct, mr Dorough here wasn’t much braver himself! I believe you wet yourself.” A deep voice resounded through the room. Baylee almost fell on the floor laughing so hard. I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder, looked up and smiled at Kevin, who had just come in. “Your sources are wrong,” I grinned at him.

“Well, at least Brian was able to keep his pants dry!” He grinned back maliciously. Then the atmosphere turned serious once again.

“Any news yet?” Kevin asked Harold.

“Nope.”

Kevin sighed deeply, “We can’t keep him like this forever, Harold, you know that.” He spoke quietly, I had to strain my ears to hear him.

“Yeah, I know.” Harold replied, just as softly.

“It’s not fair to him or to us.”

“I can’t let him go, Kevin, there’s so many questions left. Have you never wondered? Brian’s had a couple of seizures now, why isn’t he just givin’ up?” Harold whispered. Kevin looked at his cousin with sympathy. “He never knew how to give up.”

Harold stayed silent for a couple of seconds. “Then why did he ever try to kill himself?” I was astonished. Apparently I wasn’t the only one thinking that way. Maybe I should have called Harold into my team sooner. Kevin didn’t seem able to reply. Instead he asked, “Have you called your parents yet?”

“No, since they were so eager to let me decide whether Brian lives or dies, I feel rather reluctant to call them.” Harry scoffed. The whole situation with Brian’s parents was a tad unclear to me. I knew his father wasn’t allowed to fly, due to medical reasons. And I guess because Harry had spent so much time by Brian’s side these past weeks, they assumed that their eldest son knew what would be best. But I never really got any insight in how they reacted to the suicide attempt. I knew they were highly religious people, but family always came first. And now they seemed kind of distant towards their sons.

“You want me to call them?” Kevin offered. Harold didn’t answer. He was looking at the note Nick still held in his clenched fist.

“Can I see that?” he asked quietly.

Hesitating, Nick looked at me. I nodded. With all that was going on right now, the note seemed awfully unimportant. Nick handed him the worn piece of paper.

“What’s that?’’ Kevin demanded and I realized just how few people even knew about the note.

“It’s a piece of paper Howie and Nick have been obsessing over for quite some time now,” Leighanne replied unmoved. I didn’t take the bait, but watched Kevin standing behind Harry, whose face was drained of all colour. I frowned.

“Holy shit!” was all he could bring out. We were all watching him now and he brought his hands up to rub his face.

“Fuck!” He screamed out. I was really worried now. I knew the paper wasn’t a pleasant thing to read, that’s probably why I never show it to anyone, but I thought Harry reacted rather fiercely to it.

“Harold!” Leighanne reprimanded him. Baylee’s head had shot up when he heard the foul word coming out of his uncle’s mouth.

“Said bad word!’’ he yelled at him.

“He sure did, baby,” Leighanne gave her brother-in-law a pissed off look.

But Harold didn’t hear either of them. He seemed at the brink of panic and dropped the note instantly as if it had caught fire.

“Harry, are you okay?” Kevin asked uncertainly.

“No, no, no, no, this can’t be true!” The younger man cried out. I looked at Nick, who was having the same stunned look in his eyes as I must have had. Harry continued to shake his head.

“No no no no, it’s all my fault! I should have known!”

Nick frowned and picked up the note that Harold had dropped. “Do you mean the code?” he asked hopefully. Harold didn’t answer, he slumped down in his chair and started to cry softly, apologizing over and over again. “I’m sorry, Brian, I’m so sorry.”

I looked at him, stunned. Then I glanced at Nick. Could Harry have been the key element to my entire investigation? What in the world was he hiding from us? It was now or never…

“Brian had a gun.” I stated silently. I could feel Nick’s eyes boring down on me. I looked up and saw him looking at me with a meaningful expression. He did not approve. But I had to share it with the group, I couldn’t keep it for myself much longer. The other eyes in the room were on me as well, demanding an explanation.

“Five weeks before he… well you know… I walked in on him while he was holding a gun.” The silence that followed was a heavy one. The tension in the room had increased greatly. Everyone seemed to wait for me to continue.

“He said he had it for precaution, to protect himself. I used to think for a long time that he was lying, that he would have used it for a whole different reason if I hadn’t taken it from him, but honestly, I don’t think he was lying… just like I know that the thing he used to cut his arms wasn’t his, cause it was never found afterwards… Oh, and you all should have known he would never abandon Leighanne if she was pregnant,” I blurted everything out at once, it may have been a little hard to follow, but I think everyone got the message. The silence that had taken over the entire room seemed to last forever. Baylee didn’t seem to find it important enough to stay awake for, and he had fallen asleep, after he had climbed back on Nicks lap. Finally Kevin cleared his throat.

“What are you saying Howard?”

“I think Harry knows exactly what I’m saying.” And so the attention shifted from me to Harold.

“I didn’t know he had a weapon!” he defended himself.

“Where’s that gun now, Howie?” Kevin questioned.

“I don’t know,” I said, but I did. I may have lied when I said I left the weapon in some hotel drawer. I have kept it hidden instead. Hidden, but I kept it.

“Okay, and why did he say that you knew what he was talking about?” Kevin turned to Harry once again. I listened intently. I had already spilled my guts, now it was Harold’s turn. He took a deep breath.

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell anybody,” he sighed, and I couldn’t help but feeling sympathy for him. I had promised to keep Brian’s secret about the gun as well, and breaking a promise with Brian was one of the worst things you could do. He would make you feel bad about it forever and ever after.

“What’s on the note?” Leighanne suddenly asked.

“The numbers are actually saying ‘help me’ in some sort of code,” Harry whispered.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s all my fault,” he murmured once again.

“How is it your fault?” I asked him.

“I can’t tell you, I promised I wouldn’t tell…” he answered desperately. I sighed, we weren’t getting anywhere this way.

“Look, he made me promise too okay? I promised him I wouldn’t tell anyone about the gun, but I did. It doesn’t matter anymore, Harry, it’s not about keeping promises, it’s about doing the right thing.” He kept looking at me, considering my words, but didn’t answer for a long time.

Then he finally spoke up.

“Did you know he used to have anxiety attacks?” It wasn’t what I expected, and I couldn’t do anything but shake my head.

“Yeah, when he was little he used to worry about everything. Ever since he got out of the hospital. Always had nightmares about those two months he had spent there. I know, cause I shared a room with him. He would wake up crying and screaming, breathing like he had run a marathon, and then he’d come to me. He had always come to me whenever he was scared. I would do my best to comfort him, telling him that everything turned out alright after all. That he wasn’t going to die anymore. Cause that’s what he believed back then, that’s what everybody had been telling him. After a while he usually seemed to calm down somewhat and he made me promise not to tell mom and dad. Apparently he’s good at making people promise.” Harry choked on his voice. We waited for him to get himself back under control.

“Go on,” I urged softly.

“Three days before his attempt, Brian showed up at my house. Said he needed to talk to someone, said it was important. And of course, just like all those years before, he came to me. But this time it was different. I have never seen him so scared, so panicky so stressed out before. So I did the only thing I could think of back then. I gave him a hug and let him in.”

“What did he tell you?” I asked eagerly.

“Not much. He said someone was after him. ‘He’s gonna kill them, he’s gonna kill my son!’ he kept saying it. I didn’t know what to do. I thought he was being paranoid, he has a tendency to be paranoid sometimes. So I did what I’d always done. I pulled him close and told him all was gonna be fine. That nobody was gonna kill anybody, and that he didn’t need to worry about everything. But it didn’t work, he wouldn’t calm down, no matter what I did.”

“So?” Nick asked quietly, so he wouldn’t wake the sleeping kid on his lap.

“So I let him stay at my place. The next morning he seemed to have changed his mind. He was distant, said he needed to get to New Jersey to do some recording and made me promise not to tell anybody about what he had shared with me. I didn’t know that three days later, he would be lying half-dead in a hotel in Livingston.” Harold cried desperately.

“Do you think he wanted to kill himself cause you didn’t believe him?” Kevin asked incredulously. I gave him an exasperated look. He could be so dim-witted sometimes.

“No! He means to say that what if Brian wasn’t that paranoid? What if someone was really after him? What if it wasn’t suicide? What if, just what if, someone did this to our brother?” Nobody said a word for a long time. Imagining that Brian may have not wanted to die was something everyone wanted. But we had been forced to accept the fact that he did want to kill himself, and changing our minds wouldn’t be so easy. Eventually Kevin scoffed.

“Who’d wanna kill Brian?” he asked unbelievably.

Nobody could give him an answer, because nobody knew if Brian had any enemies.

“Harold, did he tell you a name?” I thought up.

“I don’t know… I can’t remember Howard, I’m sorry.” I looked at him venomously. It was the one thing we needed to know, and he couldn’t remember?

“Think hard, Harry, cause it’s important, if you didn’t know.”

“I don’t…”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, cause at that moment dr Rosswes came into the room. My heart, that had already been pounding like an idiot, seemed able to beat its way right out of my chest. Please tell me you have good news.. I wished with all my might and closed my eyes.

“I may have some good news,” he said. I opened my eyes and looked at him, astonished. He didn’t really say that, did he?

“What?” we all cried out at the same time.

“Well, we don’t know exactly how, but during the episode, some part of Brian’s brain has reacted positively to the signals of the seizure, and we were able to get him breathing again.”

I couldn’t believe my ears! I had been right after all, not all hope was lost! Everyone listened with subdued joy how the doctor explained that apparently not all seizures were a bad thing, that sometimes they helped comatose patient take a step forward. He told us we shouldn’t get our hopes up yet, cause everything could still go horribly wrong. That it was just a small step in the right direction. That they hadn’t taken Brian off of the ventilator yet, cause they thought it would be too risky. They had turned the machine to assist instead, so that he didn’t have to the work all by himself yet.

I didn’t mind. I was happy and so were the others. I felt like I could breathe again for the first time in months, as if I had been holding it in, unable to get it out, just like Brian. The fear we had all been feeling for a long time had lessened considerably and all the tension finally came to the surface. I watched with watery eyes how everyone cried tears of relief, of joy. Maybe we shouldn’t get our hopes up, but we did. And I finally realized that it was Christmas evening. 

1. CAUSE THERE’S NO CHRISTMAS WITHOUT MISERY

 

I’m not sure what I expected, but I felt a bit disappointed when we were allowed to visit Brian. It didn’t look like anything had changed. The doctor hadn’t been wrong when he told us it was a small step in the right direction. Everything looked just like the way before. Our friend still lay motionless in the too large bed, clearly unconscious. There still wasn’t any signal of life coming off of him, except the beep of the heart-monitor. The only thing that was different was that the constant, annoying hiss of the ventilator had turned into the much less louder breathing of Brian Littrell. The ventilator had taken on a role as an almost unnoticeable background noise. And seeing him breathing made my chest swell with pride. I knew you could do it.

I looked around to see if Leighanne felt the same as I did. Kevin had offered to take Baylee back to the hotel she had booked. Not the Westminster, never the Westminster. Leighanne had accepted the offer gratefully. Her mind seems to have turned around completely, and she doesn’t want to leave the love of her life on his own anymore. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.

We’d been allowed to visit Brian, but only two at a time. It was really funny actually, cause now he was doing a little better, everyone seemed to be really careful again. Nick and Harold had gone in first and when they came back out I saw nothing but relief on their faces. Relief and pride. Nick had boasted that he thought Brian looked a lot better. well, not so much, Nick. Call me a pessimist, cause I know that I am.

Kevin had visited briefly with Baylee. The little boy was reluctant to leave at first, but when he found out who was going to bring him back, he eagerly gave in. The kid might love Nick, he adores Kevin. Probably because Kevin has no idea how to say no to small children. My best guess is that Baylee is going to be stuffed with candy by tomorrow morning.

Last turn had been Leighanne and I. And it had been painfully silent so far.

“You know what, doc says if you continue to improve the next week, they’ll get that annoying thing out of your throat,” I smiled. It is going to end right after all, I just know it.

“Howard?” a voice came from behind me and I jumped. Leighanne had been silent for so long, keeping her thoughts for herself, that I’d almost forgotten that she was in the room. It occurs to me that everyone calls me ‘Howard’ since a few months. Wonder how that happened?

“Hmmm?” I answered in non-existing words, due to lack of inspiration.

“Do you really think Harold’s story could be true? Do you think someone did this to my husband?” she demanded. I turned to look at her and saw the desperation in her eyes, heard it in her voice. She wanted a real answer, she demanded a resolution, begged for a way out of the twilight world that had become our present. I wasn’t the person that could give her that. No one could, only Brian himself.

“I don’t know, Leigh, I have no idea what to think anymore…” I felt so lost. Wasn’t I supposed to get closer to the answer, if I found out the truth little by little? The only thing my discoveries seemed to do, was bring up more questions. My dad used to say that the truth would come out eventually, but you had to dig deeper than you thought, go beyond the obvious assumptions and never give up before you’ve completed the entire puzzle, no matter how many pieces there are, no matter how unclear the picture may be. My dad is a smart man, he may not have been a detective, but he worked with them, and I’m sure he could have been one. “All I know is that there’s definitely more to this whole situation than we think. I have no idea what Brian has gotten himself into, but I’m determined to find out. And it would help a lot if you just opened your eyes and told us, buddy,” I added softly as I turned to Brian again.

“But if he didn’t do this, it means someone else did, it means someone wanted him dead. It means someone poisoned my husband, cut him up, and got away with it. It means that there’s a killer on the loose, waiting to strike again! Do you really believe that?”

Fuck! I hadn’t thought of it that way yet! She was right! I realized that if Brian really didn’t kill himself, the truth could be even more complicated than if he did. And more dangerous. If only Harry had remembered a name.

“We need a name!”

“Howie, you’re not listening to me! Why would someone want to kill Brian? And how could they have possibly managed to do so?”

“I don’t know!  I don’t know, alright? As far as I can tell, there’s only one person that knows the entire truth, and I don’t think he’s gonna wake up anytime soon, so ‘til then, we’ll just have to figure things out for ourselves! I just know that I believe Harry’s story. He said someone was after Brian.”

“No, he didn’t say that Howie! He said Brian told him someone was after him. He also said he thought his brother was paranoid. And he was right! Brian had been acting paranoid like hell these past months!” she shouted at me. I didn’t know when our conversation had turned into a screaming match.

“What if Brian had every reason to be paranoid,” I muttered.

“So you’re saying that some crazy idiot somehow broke into my husband’s hotel room, cut into his arms, drugged him to hell and wrote a suicide note in Brian’s handwriting, just for the fun of it?” she was flaming with anger now, not at me, but at the thought that someone could have had the possibility to do the things she had listed, no matter how crazy it sounded.

“Okay, look, that’s not what I’m saying, alright? Just calm down. We simply don’t know what happened, so we can’t just go and assume stuff we can’t back up. All I’m saying is that we try and find a name, cause there is evidence that there might have been someone other than Brian involved in this…” no there wasn’t, not anything tangible anyway. Just my own assumptions. But she didn’t know that. I just have this feeling, this hunch, that I’m on the right path. My father used to say that he thought that I could be a detective, even though he knew I’ve always wanted to make it in the show business. My instincts have never failed me.

Leighanne just shook her head. “Oh Howie, Brian may have been paranoid, but so are you.”

“Harry thinks I’m right. And he knows the name, but can’t tell us… somehow…”

“You should listen to yourself. Since when did we get caught up in a cop show? Or better, since when do we not call the police anymore when we found new evidence?”

“They’re never gonna believe us, besides, do you want the entire country to know what we’re onto?”

“So you decided to play the policeman all by yourself, making your own crazy conclusions.”

She had no right to say that. All I’ve been doing was for Brian’s sake, wasn’t it? Why did she doubt me? It’s not like she spent the last six weeks trying to figure everything out, and now that I’m this close, she’s gonna bring me down? Seething, I turned around to face her and give her my uncensored opinion, but then I could see the obvious desperation on her face again. She wanted an answer, didn’t matter what kind, if only it made sense. She wanted to hear a lie that told her to stop worrying, that the whole ordeal was over and she just had to wait for Brian to wake up and that they never had to thought about it again. She didn’t want to hear the truth, I realized, because the truth would simply not make sense.

 

25th of December 2005

Going home for the holidays has never brought as much relief to me as it did this year. Well, it was supposed to anyway. Desperately wanting to get out of Livingston, I headed to Orlando to meet up with the rest of the family.

For some reason, Christmas always goes down in the same routine every year. It does in my family anyway. We all come together, tell each other it has been absolutely too long since we’ve last spoken to one another, sit down, eat ‘til we feel we’re about to explode, and try desperately not to think about the one person missing in our family. Since a few years back, there has been a new rule added to our Christmas dinner: do not ask Howard about the Backstreet Boys. Apparently I cannot stop talking about my job once someone asks me about it, and we really don’t want our little Christmas to be all about work, do we?  Usually there’s always somebody that breaks the rule, and I gladly tell them everything they want to know.

This year was different. This year I didn’t want anyone to bring up the band I’m in, or certain band members in that same band. I deliberately hadn’t given anyone details on what has been going one these past few months, but I’m sure they can all read, hear or see the news. I only hoped they didn’t believe the words that have been spoken in the media. None of us have given an official statement on the matter, and I’m kinda suspecting that will be my job when the time comes, but it leaves the media to take wild guesses. And most of them are humiliating, disappointing and denigrating.

But of course, it was only a matter of time before John brought it up.

“So Howard, what’s it gonna be like now that that short blond decided to check out?”

I felt my veins fill themselves with anger and kept my eyes on my plate. I hate John. He knows the names of my band mates very well, but still loves to tease me about it. Being the youngest is probably never easy, but it gets about ten times worse when you’ve got John Dorough for a brother. I decided to play along in his little game and act like I had no idea what he was talking about.

“You mean Kevin?” Short, blond, seemed like an accurate description.

“No, I don’t mean Kevin, you smart ass!” I finally looked up. John was angry. John was angry? But as I looked around the table, I saw everyone staring at me with the same worried, angry expression on their faces.

“What?” I sighed.

“What?! What?!,” my mother busted in, “are you kidding me, honey? How  about you tell us what has been going on for the past 2 months? We’ve been scared to death by the news, and we don’t know what to believe!”

“I thought you didn’t want me talking about work when we’re having Christmas dinner?” I thought it was a reasonable point, my mom didn’t think so.

“I hardly think this is just about work. What have you boys gotten yourselves into?”

“Nothing, Mom.” Which wasn’t entirely a lie, cause we hadn’t gotten ourselves into anything.

“Then all those things I read in the magazines aren’t true?”

“No, of course not, you should know better than to read that stuff, Ma!’’ I yelled, I couldn’t help myself.

“Howard! Sit down and apologize to your mother!” my father yelled from across the table. Of course, he hadn’t heard a single thing of our conversation, except for the last part. I heaved a deep sigh. “Sorry mom…”

“That’s okay. Are you sure everything’s alright? You seem a little on edge…”

“Yeah, cause normally you can’t stop bragging about your job!” John chimed in again. “And you know, I may have not read the same magazines as mom did, but I’ve heard a great deal about your little singing group as well.”

“Yeah so? We’re on the news all the time, welcome to showbiz brother! It’s no big deal.” I didn’t know for how much longer I could keep this act up, pretending I had no idea what they were getting at.

“Oh really? Cause I happened to be in China the other day, you know, working on our business, and they got you guys on their screens too! So don’t give me that crap about being famous, bro! Just tell me if it’s true what I’ve heard.”

“Depends on what you’ve heard,” I muttered.

“Excuse me?” Oh dear, John’s patience is running out, better hurry.

“It depends on what you’ve heard!” I yelled a little louder.

“Oh honey, it’s terrible, they’re talking about hospitals and suicide and… and… death…” my mother looked like she was going to choke on that last word.

“Death?” I repeated rather loudly.

“Sweetie, just tell me he’s not dead? Please?” I looked at her, dumbfounded and I realized that I wasn’t the only one at this table who knew Brian, my family knew him as well and they used to like him. Just like I knew his family and we all knew each other’s family and all of our family knew us. Leaving mine as outsiders on the matter was the wrong thing to do, but then what was I supposed to do? It’s not like you can just call up your mom and be like, hey, guess what… but then there was the media that talked about Brian dying, and my family believes it. For all they know, he’s dead. And now they’re angry, cause, shouldn’t I have been the one to tell them that? Why is everything so screwed up?

“No mom! He’s not dead!” I exclaimed as quickly as I found my voice again.

“Oh thank God!” mom said as she fell back into her chair. I looked around the table again, where everyone was still staring expectantly at me. I raised my eyebrows in return of their stares. My brother was of course the one to speak up again.

“Okay Howie, let me spell this out for you. What. The. Hell. Happened?” I looked into his demanding eyes and I broke. I told them everything, from the strange things Brian used to do before the tragedy, to the hotel room, to the seizures, to the note, to Harry’s story, and finally to him getting better again. When I was finished, a heavy silence fell upon the table and I wondered if I were the first or the last of the group to tell my family about our ‘adventures’.

“So that’s it? He’s just gonna wake up and no one will ever know about what happened to him?” John wanted to know.

“Oh no, I’ll find it out, see I’ve written this entire… wait a sec… if he’s waking up, why won’t he be able to tell us about it?”

“Oh I don’t know… and excuse me for bursting your tiny, cosy bubble, but if you would be in a coma for two months, I bet my money you wouldn’t even remember my name, much less what happened.” Fuck, why hadn’t I thought of that?

“You don’t know that…” I tried weakly. Cause he did know. John used to be surrounded by a lot of comatose people, he worked with them before he set up the real estate business with me.

“Oh believe me Lil’Bro, I know… I’m sorry dude…” I didn’t respond. Why were we even talking about this kind of stuff at Christmas? I sighed for the umpteenth time that evening and turned my attention to my food again, indicating that the conversation was officially over. My food had long gone cold by this point. The diversion seemed to work, and the room filled with small talk about Christmas again.

Suddenly my cell phone began to ring and I excused myself when I saw the threatening warning in my father’s eyes. No cell phones at dinner, especially not at Christmas dinner. I looked at the tiny screen, wondering who had the guts to call me on Christmas. Harold. My eyes got big and I got up from the table, apologizing that sorry, but it could be really important.

“And who’s so important that they can veto my rule about mobile phones Howard?” My father roared.

“Harold,’’ was all I said and it was enough, as I saw my father pause for a second, then flick his hand towards the kitchen door, gesturing that I was dismissed.

“Hello?” I began once I was out of earshot.

“Howie? Why don’t you ever answer on the first ring, dude?”

“Because it’s Christmas , Harold! You’re lucky you don’t have to deal with my father’s wrath tonight.”

“Can’t be worse than my father’s,” he said darkly. He really has some family issues since his brother’s in the hospital.

“Why are you calling me on Christmas, Harold? Something happened with Bri?’’

“Nah, not much… oh hey, they’re gonna get the ventilator out tomorrow.”

“Oh great… anything else, Harry?”

“No, oh wait! I’ve got the name!”

“You’re kidding! Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?”

“Ummm, I don’t know…”

“Doesn’t matter. So who is it?”

“It’s Peter!”

“Aha… Peter any last name, Peter?”

“Oh right, I’m sorry, I don’t know, he didn’t say, he just said Peter.”

“Well, that’s terrific… I don’t know no Peter!”

“… me neither.”

“So that’s getting us exactly… nowhere…”

“No?”

“No.”

“You sure you don’t know a Peter? Cause way I figured, if I don’t know no Peter, maybe Howard knows a Peter…”

“Harold, have you been drinking?”

“Yeah…”

“But it’s Christmas…”

“Exactly… and look where I am, next to my little brother, who’s as out as a baboon. My family doesn’t want to talk to me, I think they’re cutting us out… my wife left me two years ago… so yeah I’m drinking, cause it’s fucking Christmas…”

“Right, so Peter? That’s all we’ve got?” It’s not that I didn’t feel bad for him, I just didn’t have time for his misery, cause I did have a very angry family waiting for me. Which sounds so horrible…

“That’s all we’ve got, mate. I’m sorry, I wish I had more.”

“That’s okay, we’ll found out more, you’ll see…”

1. SAVE THE DAY

 

8th of January 2006

I haven’t been in New Jersey for two weeks. The little vacation really got me blowing off some steam, as my mom suggested.  Being away helps putting your jumbled thoughts back in place and retrieving some of your sanity again. But I soon figured that January 8th was not the best time to return.

I could dream the way from my hotel room to the hospital. Usually I sang the whole way driving there, belting with the radio on max. It was the only way I still got to sing these days, the only way I could keep a grasp on my fading life as a pop star. The fact that our famous lives are fading wasn’t solely Brian’s fault, I’m aware of that. It’s just a bit hard to accept the natural way of the music industry. You cannot be on top for long, and once you’ve reached it, you can only fall down. And we did fall down, boy did we fall down! But when we decided to get back up again, it was apparently too late. Of course we didn’t know that, still just as naïve as we were all those years back. Cause when we decided to make the comeback of a lifetime, we also decided to take a different turn on new material. You’re not supposed to do that. Not in a time when everybody’s like, boyband? The fuck is a boyband? Oh well, I shouldn’t complain so much, that was one of my resolutions this year after all. Of course it was under ‘solving the mysteries’, but you can go figure.

 

“And through it all, she offers me protection

A lot of love and affection

Whether I’m right or wrong

And down the waterfall

Wherever it may take me

I know that life won’t break me

When I come to call

She won’t forsake me

I’m loving angels instead.”

 

I yelled the lyrics as loudly and off-key as I possibly could. Just because for once, there was no one that could hear me, or had to hear me, and I could shamelessly sing in my car, just like all average Americans stuck in traffic. It may sound strange, but if I don’t sing for work purposes, I try to sing as badly and out of tune as I can, just because I can.

I hadn’t heard anything from Harry or from anyone else involved and if something actually did happen, they never bothered telling me about it. I spent the rest of my time off thinking about Peter. I was sure I didn’t know a Peter, or did I? Not a Peter Brian would know too anyway, or would he? The longer I thought about it, the more insecure I became about the whole situation. A gut feeling told me that I should know a Peter, but I couldn’t remember for the life of me who Peter was supposed to be. Harry didn’t know a Peter, Leighanne didn’t know a Peter, Nick had no clue whatsoever, Kevin said he knew a Peter that had been eighty years old and died two years ago and I hadn’t spoken to AJ in the longest time.

Goddarnit, traffic is a bitch!

The radio had switched to some kind of grouchy, metal rock that really did not fit my voice, but I didn’t care, as I kept singing, oblivious to the lyrics that I wouldn’t be able to make out even if I tried.

When I finally reached the hospital, it became clear to me that I had been gone for too long, as I forgot to take the backdoor. I stopped my car in front of the emergency room and looked with wide eyes at the enormous crowd of people packed together in front of the entrance. Holy shit. Get out before they see you!  Years of experience gave me a good clue on who the people were and what they were doing here and I tried to get out of my car as quietly and inconspicuous as I could manage. But it didn’t matter how much expertise I put in my performance as a ninja. I was too close and the crowd had been waiting a long time for an opportunity like this. Before I could turn my back on the multitude, they were in front of me, pushing and pulling to get the best spot, shoving cameras in my face and screaming questions at me that I couldn’t understand. You know what Einstein? Security wouldn’t have been a superfluous luxury, like you thought. Just when I wanted to yell that they were invading my personal space, a huge guy with a microphone collided with me and sent us both falling to the ground. I felt someone pull me up as they wrapped an arm around mine and yanked me to my feet. I couldn’t see my saviour and when I wanted to thank her, cause I was sure it had been a woman, for avoiding my fear of getting trampled coming true, the crowd was once again pulling at my attention. I tried to focus on what they were saying, but they were all screaming at the same time. Assessing my situation, I figured I had two options. I could either force my way to the entrance, go into the hospital and get the hell away. But there was only one of me, and over thousands, it seemed, of them. Plus the fact that I couldn’t even see the entrance anymore made me guess we weren’t at the same spot where we started, so I had no idea where I’d be rampaging into. The other option was creating order out of chaos and the inner control freak in me screamed that I should do just that. Taking control over the situation sounds like the best option, but it also suggests that I was going to try and answer their numerous questions, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do that. The group had stayed silent for so long, and if I spoke up without informing anyone, there would be hell to pay.

Well, it’s not like you’ve got another option…

“Please, silence, please, one at a time.” I tried to calm the overexcited group of people and hoped at least one of them had heard me and would inform his companions that they were finally getting a shot at some information. Meanwhile I was making up my mind about what I would and what I wouldn’t say. They didn’t give me very much time though.

“Sir, sir, can you tell us anything about what happened to your bandmate?” a young man in a simple white t-shirt, which was very gutsy, considering it was January, asked me. Well, at least he’s calling me ‘sir’.

“Not much, we’re still trying to determine what happened.” It was true, wasn’t it?

“Sources say that he has tried to kill himself, Mr Dorough, is that true?”

“I… I… I don’t know,” I stuttered, cause I didn’t know.

“It’s been almost two months, how can you not know?”

Stay polite, Howard…

“Umm, he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. We are as much in the dark as all of you are.”

“He’s in a coma?” a female voice asked, and I recognized it immediately. It belonged to the girl that had saved me from my certain death. I smiled gratefully at her.

“Yes, but he has been doing a hell of a lot better and it’s just a matter of time before he wakes up.”

“So he’s not dead…” a man in a striped jacket stated, he almost looked disappointed, but he couldn’t be, could he? I looked exasperatedly at him.

“I don’t think I’d still be coming to the hospital if that were true,” I commented. The crowd laughed, Striped Jacket looked ashamed, point for me. This wasn’t so bad after all, it would be okay eventually. “Now if you guys would excuse me, I have a sick friend to visit.” I told them and tried to make a move, but a sudden comment from the crowd had me nailed to the ground.

“Are you guys even trying to find out what happened, or don’t you even bother caring?” My blood ran cold, then began boiling ‘til it eventually rushed to my head and all I could see was red.  The huge guy that had ran into me earlier, was standing with a sly smirk marking his face and I knew immediately that he must have been the one to make the remark. I spun on my heels and slammed a solid fist right into that annoying smirk. The guy stumbled for a second but stayed upright, the crowd suddenly went deadly quiet, and my heart was filling with fear, when I saw the man’s face, which looked as angry as I felt. Before I knew what was happening I felt someone pull at my jacket from behind, and suddenly I was out of the crowd.

“Run,” was the only thing she said, and then we took off, before the crowd even realized we were gone.

 

“To the right! In there!” I yelled at her short, but flowing black hair, that was dancing right in front of me as we ran around the hospital, trying to get rid of the multitude that was following us. The only thing that was missing now were some torches and hayforks, I thought bitterly. My saviour was faster than me, but that didn’t say much, considering everyone was faster than me.

We jumped into the backdoor entrance that I had been supposed to take once I arrived at the hospital. The hallway was quiet and there was no one to be seen, except a nurse who was looking strangely at us as we suddenly appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

“We need somewhere to hide!” my saviour spoke in a rushed tone at the nurse, and I realized her Spanish accent for the first time. The nurse didn’t say a word, just kept looking at us with a funny expression and pointed her finger at a door to the left. Not thinking about it further, we both rushed in.

A closet.

Great.

 Make that a narrow closet, I thought helplessly as I was pressed awkwardly against the wall with the girl’s back squeezed against my ribcage.

“Well, at least they won’t be able to find us in here,” my companion stated. She didn’t seem worried about the fact that we were in a very dark, closed off closet, pressed against each other as if we had known one another for years. If someone tries to open the door, they’ll be sure to think we’re doing stuff that we shouldn’t be doing in a public place, I thought and was suddenly reminded by a very dirty scene in Grey’s Anatomy.

“Umm, no offense, but do you have any idea how long we’re supposed to be packed up like this?” I tried to ask, but my voice came out rather muffled.

“Mr Dorough, you surprise me, are you telling me that you have never been in a situation like this, in all your years?”

“Call me Howie,” It was the least I could do, “actually no, I haven’t. You?” She didn’t really look like the type that would jump into a closet with anyone, but then again, I didn’t actually know what type she was.

“Not quite, I was trapped in a closet once, with my ex. It was kinda kinky,’’ she offered and I smiled, releasing the tension I felt. If she didn’t worry about a thing, then why should I?

“Ha! Anyway, thanks for saving my ass today. Twice…”

“Anytime,’’ she laughed, “thanks for punching David in the face, he’s a real pain in the ass and deserved whatever harm you could have put on him.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied weakly, wondering how much harm he would have put on me if she hadn’t pulled me away in time, “I’m not sure what kind of damage I could have done to him, though.”

“I’m sorry I pulled you away then,” she said.

“Oh no, don’t be sorry, I meant…” I couldn’t finish what I was about to say, cause suddenly the door was yanked open and we had to do our best to keep from tumbling right out of the closet. My first fear was that the whole crowd had assembled in the small hallway and was standing in front of the door, ready to eat us.

“They are gone,” the elderly nurse informed us. Apparently she had figured out why we had jumped in the closet and felt the need to get us out of there as soon as possible.

“Oh thank God!” I exclaimed a little too loudly, which caused both the nurse and the girl to look at me.

“It’s not that I didn’t like being stuck in a closet with you,” I told the girl, which made her frown, “I mean, I didn’t mind, I mean… oh…” damn smooth.

The girl smiled though and said: “Oh Howie, I know it’s hard to talk when you’ve just come out of the closet.” I heard the nurse laugh out loud at her joke and gave her a pissed off look, cause I still had my pride.

“You’re hilarious,” I stated, “I didn’t catch your name though.”

“Oh, it’s Caroline,” she said, and my heart started hammering, “but I prefer you call me Carry.”

“Carry it is then,” I stammered uncertainly, suddenly afraid, cause she did look like my sister a little.

She must have caught the sudden change in atmosphere, cause she started to turn away from me.

“Ummm, so the crowd’s gone, that means we can do what we have to do now. I guess I should leave.”

“Or you could come with me,” I suggested. I still don’t know why. Maybe because I was sick of hiding everything. I knew she was a reporter, it was her job to get to the bottom of things and I gave her the permission to walk right into a goldmine. I knew that. But honestly, I really didn’t want her to leave.

 

 

 

 

 

8th of January2006

 

“Maybe that’s not the best idea…” she suggested with an uneasy smile. I mentally kicked myself a couple of times. Of course not, you idiot!

“I… ah… yes, you’re right,” I replied, defeated. Her smile grew wider. “But, if you ever want to talk to someone, give me a call!” Carry handed me a small piece of paper with her name and phone number, “I promise it’ll stay out of the records.”

I looked at it for a while, not daring to look at her. She noticed my embarrassment and offered me her hand.

“It was nice to meet you, Howie.”

I took her hand, finally rediscovering some of my confidence again and smiled warmly at her, “It was nice to meet you too, Carry. I’ll give you a call soon, okay?”

 

10th of January 2006

 

And here we are again, in this stupid room. I sighed deeply, wondering what it would take to give Brian the last little push towards consciousness again. I was thinking about this a lot lately, because we just didn’t seem to get anywhere again. It was kinda weird, how he, just after Kevin suggested to let him go, took a step forward. As if he wanted to show us that he could do it, but didn’t want to, unless he had to. It was remarkably frustrating.

If that wasn’t enough, the fact that my own investigation seemed to be stuck as well as Brian, was rather stressful too. Why, in this whole network of people that knew Brian, had nobody ever heard of someone named Peter? Had Peter been someone Brian had met recently, of had he known him longer? Was Peter someone that he knew from the past, perhaps? I tried my best to search my memory of anybody named Peter that had come in contact with Brian. But Brian was a free man, he could meet people whenever he wanted to, he didn’t need consent from anybody. Hell, I don’t even know half of the persons I meet at parties, concerts, interviews and photo-shoots. How can I know all the people Brian meets? I’m not a stalker!

Stalker.

With wide eyes, I looked at Brian and my mouth fell open when I noticed his eyes were no longer closed. He looked at me frantically, alarmed and I noticed his breathing had picked up speed considerably. With a deathlike grip, he grasped my hand. I marvelled at the amount of strength he possessed for someone who’d done nothing but sleep for two months.

“Brian?”

There was something he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t seem to find the right words.

“It’s alright, calm down… just take a breath, okay?”

After a while, he looked at me again, this time the determination shone through.

“Peter…” he whispered hoarsely.

“Peter? Who’s Peter?” I asked urgently. I know it wasn’t right to put so much pressure on him, when he just woke up, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d been waiting for this for so long.

“Peter Robins…”

 

I woke up with a start, immediately looking around me. My frustration rose to a new level when I saw Brian hadn’t moved an inch since I’d fallen asleep. I’d been dreaming about his awakening a few times before. It always included a panicked Brian and an even more panicked me, but we’d never discussed Peter before.

Peter Robins.

I’d heard that name before, but I didn’t know where. It was pretty clear that I’d known that name all along, and now my subconscious finally found it the right time to let me in on that information. With only a first name, I couldn’t work, but if you added a last name… There must be records of one Peter Robins, right?

When I was sure that my dream had just been a dream, that Brian really wasn’t waking up, I stood up and silently left the room.

I didn’t get very far. In the room we now conveniently called ‘coffee room’ were Kevin and AJ, both standing tall with their arms folded and a dangerous expression on their faces. It took me a while to comprehend that they were angry with me. It took me even longer to realize it was weird that of all people, AJ, was there.

“Aje!” I exclaimed when I couldn’t stand the lasting silence anymore. “You’re back!”

AJ’s eyes narrowed and he took a step closer. “Yeah, no thanks to you!”

I stared at him for a minute, wondering what he was talking about. Then it finally dawned. “Oh yeah. Sorry…”

“I’ve waited for over four hours, Howard! Where the hell were you?”

“I was err…” I stammered and looked at the ground, ashamed. Kevin took that as a sign to interfere.

“You were sleeping, weren’t you?” He questioned, close to my face, “You know when you should sleep? …AT NIGHT!”

“How’d you get here?” I asked AJ, trying to make Kevin get out of my face.

“Kevin picked me up, when he finally figured you weren’t going to.”

“Oh.” I was sorry, I really was. I’d promised AJ and the others to pick him up from the rehabilitation centre when he was dismissed, but I must have forgotten it in all my haste.

“Look, AJ. I’m very sorry, I was just…”

“Save it, it’s alright. At least there’s always Kevin…” My shoulders slumped. He made me feel irresponsible.

“Oh Howard, there’s something else too,” Kevin called.

“Now what?” I really wasn’t ready for more critiques.

Kevin looked at me and pulled a newspaper out of his back pocket. With a sweep, he landed it on the coffee table.

“Does that headline sound familiar to you?” He questioned, his dangerous eyebrows furrowing together.

I scanned the paper and inhaled sharply, immediately knowing what he was getting on.

 

                Backstreet Boy gets emotional at hospital.

 

                Backstreet Boy Howie Dorough was spotted Thursday January 8th at Livingston General Hospital, New Jersey. For the first time since band-mate Brian Littrell was admitted there, reporters have been able to get some information out of the band. Some. Dorough refused to say what had happened exactly, claiming he didn’t know. He revealed Littrell was alive, but comatose and hasn’t regained consciousness up till this point. When asked if the speculations about a suicide attempt were true, he refused to answer and got particularly angry when a member of the press asked if he and his music partners were trying to find out what happened. According to bystanders Dorough got aggressive and tried to start a fight with the questioner, but got pulled away when things got heated. Presumably he fled through one of the backdoors of the hospital.

 

                Cautiously, I looked up from the paper and saw Kevin and AJ both staring at me with a questioning look, demanding an explanation.

“This is not fair, you should have heard what that asshole said!” I defended weakly.

“You see, I expected something like this from AJ, sorry Aje,” he apologized to AJ who’d looked up suddenly, hearing his name, “and from Nick, but from you…” Kevin watched me closely, trying to see if maybe the answer was written on my forehead.

“He made me angry. It was his fault. He asked if we were even trying to find out what happened or if we didn’t even bother caring about him,” I spat, my anger returning. I saw Kevin looking to the ground and AJaverting his gaze. “While… what is it I’ve been trying to do these past few weeks?”

“Look, I know you care Howard, I know you care a lot about the investigation. But they don’t know that. And I’d like to keep it that way. They don’t need to know what happened before we do.”

“So you’re okay with them making us sound like a bunch of selfish bastards? Like we’re just a few pained animals that can’t keep their emotions in check?”

“Well, can you?”

I scoffed and glared at the oldest member, hold on, ex-member of our group. “Yes!” I snarled, “I just won’t let myself being accused of not caring about what happened!”

Kevin sighed and didn’t answer, probably because he knew how much it hurt me that someone would say that I didn’t care about this whole thing, while I’d put so much energy in finding out what happened.

“Look,” AJ spoke up, “I just thought we agreed that we wouldn’t let the press know anything until Brian got better.”

“I didn’t have much choice, they were surrounding me. You should have seen it, they were like vultures, just waiting, hoping for one of us to come out, or in.”

I saw Kevin nod, deep in thought. “You know, that’s what Nick and I have been talking about. If we don’t throw those reporters a bone soon, they’re gonna storm in here and they’ll have more than they wanted after all. We’ll have to give them something.”

AJ nodded as well and I noticed them both looking at me. I shrunk back a little. “Like what?”

“Well, we can’t reveal your little investigation until you’ve got some hard proof. I thought that we’d just go with the obvious…” he spoke slowly and I raised my eyebrows.

“You don’t mean…”

“We don’t have much choice.”

“No! That will ruin his name!” I exclaimed, shocked that Kevin would even consider such a thing. Revealing Brian’s urge to kill himself, while I was getting pretty sure that that wasn’t the case, sounded appealing even if it were true.

“Listen, you said yourself they were like vultures! What do you suggest we do?”

“We can be cryptic, right? We don’t have to tell them anything really. Just enough to get them off our backs and keep them satisfied for a while.”

“How do you figure we do that?” Kevin asked with a frown.

“Let me handle it, okay? I’m the one who got this mess started after all,” I suggested and noticed it worked. Kevin seemed to consider my proposition, wondering if he trusted me enough for this.

“How far is your investigation?” AJ asked suddenly.

I looked at him, momentarily forgetting what he meant. He looked much better than he had three weeks ago. He always did when he just got out of rehab.

“Oh!” I yelled when I remembered something, “That’s what I came here to ask you guys! Anyone heard of a Peter Robins?”

Kevin rolled his eyes and sighed. “How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t know of any Peter! And now you’re asking again!”

“I only just figured out his last name!” I replied defensively.

“Still doesn’t sound familiar!” Kevin claimed.

“Wait? Robins?” AJ seemed to thinking hard, “Peter Robins?”

My eyes got big when I realized AJ might be on to something. “Yeah! You know him?”

“Wasn’t that one of Brian’s friends like… way back?” he made a vague gesture with his arm.

My mouth dropped open instantly. AJ often didn’t remember half of our lyrics when it came to it, but this he recalled? Nevertheless, I couldn’t be more thankful that he was back.

“When?” I asked eagerly, hoping we were talking about the same person.

“Back in, what was it, 99?” he looked at Kevin for confirmation, but the taller man just shrugged. “Yeah, I think it was 99. At our height.”

I thought furiously, thinking of any close friends of Brian at that time. But there were too many, and they all seemed to blur into one to me. I’d never really cared much about who we’d been hanging around. But AJ and Nick had always been closer to Brian than me, so it made sense AJ would remember.

“What happened?” I asked, cause Brian and Peter obviously weren’t friends anymore, hadn’t been for the longest time.

“I’m not sure. But I’d always assumed it had something to do with Nicky. He’d confided in me that he thought Brian and Peter were getting too close. I think he was just jealous and scared Pete away at some point.”

I nodded slowly, cause yes, that did sound like something Nick would do. I’d have to ask Nick.

“Wait, it doesn’t make sense! Nick said he didn’t know any Peter.”

“That’s Nick we’re talking about. He doesn’t even know half of the people he hangs around with. I’m sure that if we refresh his memory a little, he can tell us what happened.”

I smiled, cause somewhere along this conversation, I had dragged AJ, who’d been refusing to help Brian all along, into my investigation. Still, I noticed Kevin watching us sceptically.

“So what? You’re saying some Peter he knew seven years ago did this?”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m not saying anything, but it’s worth looking into.”

“Do you even know how many Peter Robins’s exist on this planet?”

“No, but AJ looks pretty sure, and I don’t think Brian knew more than one Peter Robins. Let’s go talk to Nick!”

 

Finding Nick wasn’t the hardest thing to do, because he was where he usually was. It was just a matter of time really before we had to drag him towards a rehab. Bringing AJ to a bar wasn’t the brightest idea, so I left him standing outside while I would go and grab Nick out of the stinking hole they called a bar in Livingston. It was smoky and if you didn’t already have asthma, you’d get it in here. It took me a few minutes to locate my band mate and when I did, I stalked towards him, determined, and ceased the back of his collar. He lost his balance and would have fallen off of the barstool if I hadn’t  been there to catch him.

“Jeez, Howie!” He exclaimed, irritated.

“Come on, we gotta talk to you.” I informed him frankly and started pulling him towards the exit.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on, who’s we?” He asked, suddenly stopping.

“AJ and I.’’ I yelled, excited.

“Cool! AJ is back!”

“Yeah, and we got a name!”

“What, that Peter guy again?” Nick said exasperated. I noticed AJ walking towards us. Nick and he hugged and then let go, at which AJ immediately started his interrogation.

“Nick! We need to talk!”

“I know, Howie said something like that earlier,” the youngest of the group replied dryly.

“Remember Peter Robins? That one big guy you used to be jealous of?”

“Who?”

“Peter! He and Brian were friends, and you couldn’t stand that so you shooed him away!”

“The hell are you talking about? When was that?”

“About seven years ago!” I piped in. I suddenly remembered the tall, black haired giant AJ was talking about. He’d always seemed a little intimidating, but then again he’d always been nice to me and the others and Brian had seemed to like him. I found it quite unbelievable he could be our guy.

“You guys expect me to remember something that happened seven years ago?” Nick questioned, but I could see he was hiding something. That he remembered Peter too, but didn’t want to talk about it.

“Stop lying Nicky,” I said sternly and noticed AJ looking at me with a frown.

“I’m not lying!”

“What happened?”

“I told you I have no idea what you’re getting at. I don’t remember that Canadian dude, alright?”

There was a brief pause when he realized he’d said too much and I grinned wickedly.

“I never said he was Canadian, Nicky,” I commented smartly.

“Alright, look, I’m not allowed to talk about it, okay?”

“Oh, let me guess, because you promised B-Rok?” I suggested sarcastically.

“YES, because I promised him!”

“Alright, I don’t know how to get this through that thick skull of you guys, but I figure Brian’s determination to make you and Harry and me, keep quiet about all this, has gotten him in this mess in the first place!”

“But this was seven years ago! It has nothing to do with it!”

“How can you be so sure?”

Nick stayed silent after that, but I kept looking at him, forcing him to admit everything. “Because Peter was a good guy. It was Brian and me that forced him away.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I admit that I may have been a bit jealous, okay? I mean, Brian was, is, my best friend and Peter just came along. I’d always told Bri that Pete was just looking for fame, that he wasn’t a true friend. Brian had gotten mad at me and asked whether there was anybody left out there that he could trust then. ”

I nodded. So far I could understand it. I remembered Brian’s issues with trust right after we got nailed by Pearlman and company. Hell, we all felt like we couldn’t trust anybody anymore, but Brian had taken it the hardest. Probably because he had been the one to find out about the whole scam.

“Why did he get rid of Peter then?” I asked, though I could almost picture myself why.

“Cause, I guess, somehow Brian did believe me. A few weeks after our argument, he’d ended his friendship with Pete. Maybe Robins was out for a little fame after all, and Brian had found out that he was only using him to get higher up. Or maybe he couldn’t get my words out of his head and took everything Peter did as a sign of corrupt friendship. You know what he was like during those days. ”

Yeah, I knew. Before, Brian used to see only the good in people, that they were innocent until proven guilty. But after Lou, he’d taken that mantra the other way around. Guilty, until proven innocent. Of course, Nick’s incitement had gotten him even more suspicious.

“Still, it doesn’t make sense,” AJ commented after a long silence. “Why would Brian have made you promise not to talk about it?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” Nick frowned. “Maybe because he knew as well, deep down, that Peter hadn’t done anything wrong, really? That he didn’t deserve to be put down like that?”

I sighed, frustrated and mumbled an obscene curse in Spanish. I wasn’t much of a swearing type, but I couldn’t believe we could possibly be back at square one.

“Still, it doesn’t hurt to check out Peter, right?” I suggested with a desperate tone.

“What?” AJ looked disappointed as well, “you suggest Pete has decided to take revenge after just, oh I don’t know, seven years?”

I glared at him, but only because I knew how stupid it sounded.

“All I’m saying is that Peter is our only lead up until this point. We should just try and find out what he’s been up to these past seven years.”

The youngest Backstreet members nodded slowly.

“There’s just one problem you’ve overlooked, Howie…” Nick began.

“What?”

“We’re not police. We don’t get in on those records.”

“I might know someone who does,” AJ spoke up. I looked at him, surprised. In this three hours, he’d been more help than ever. “You know. Being in rehab gets you more dark connections than you wish for.”

 

1. MY DARK FRIEND

 

You don’t mind it anymore, you’ve learnt to understand it. The everlasting Darkness surrounding you is calming, soothing in some way. People said it would suffocate you, trap you in its grip, but you don’t agree. And although, to be honest, you don’t remember much from the world of Light, you do know that that had been the one suffocating and trapping. You remember pain, lots. The Darkness cannot hurt you, it’s only there to keep you company and sometimes you wonder if you and the Darkness are the only things left.

You know that’s not true though, because you’ve heard them. The voices had sounded far away and were saying things you didn’t understand. But for some reason you don’t know, you’ve come to enjoy them. More than the Darkness. And now you’re actually looking out for them. The words are hollow though and carry no meaning to you, but if you try and use your imagination, they sound just like music sometimes. You wonder if they are real, or only in your head. It is possible, considering your head feels like the biggest mess up you’ve ever experienced.

People said it would feel like drowning, like you’d be pulled in deeper and deeper until you couldn’t see the surface anymore. You don’t agree. You say it feels like swimming, in which you’re the one that gets to decide when to swim just below the surface and when to go in deeper. But only recently you noticed that actually reaching the surface, was out of the question. You know why. It’s because of that thin line between the painful Light and  the numbing Dark, between something you’re familiar with, something that’s as simple as black and white with and something that’s different, something you’re afraid of.

It was an everlasting dilemma really, of choosing to stay covered, safe and silent, or to take your chances and reach for the surface. That’s where the voices were, that’s where the music is. No pain, just music. That’s how it should be. Just you, the Darkness, and the music.

You can hear them again, but this time they don’t sound like music anymore. They’re loud and angry and you realize you’ve gone too far. You need to go deeper to muffle the voices, to make them turn into music again. They’re still talking, they must be fighting. You don’t know what they’re saying and if it has anything to do with you. You feel the Darkness calling. Come here, you, come, and be safe. And just this one time, you’re wondering what to do. Darkness was your friend. Darkness never did anything to hurt you, while Light made you suffer beyond anything you’d ever thought possible. But Light had sparked your curiosity now. Light was loud and lively and you figure you need something else than Darkness now. You need to feel alive again.

Just then you realize that Darkness isn’t your friend. Not really. Darkness wants to keep you all to itself. Just when you make the decision to try and see what more is out there, Darkness demands you get back. Immediately. It’s not safe out there, it says, do you want to get hurt again, it asks, I won’t hurt you, I will never hurt you, it promises. And then it begins to pull. You’re kicking and screaming, trying to get out of its grasp, but Darkness holds on tight and you know, deep inside of you, that Darkness is stronger than you are. But just when you want to give in, to let Darkness pull you into its depths, so deep, you’ve never been there before, you can hear it.

The voice is soft, softer than the arguing voices surrounding it, but it’s clear as a bell. It’s calling out, and you don’t have to wonder if it is calling out to you, because you already know. It’s calling your name, a name you would never forget, no matter what.

“Daddy!” it calls, “Daddy!” it screams, “Daddy!” it cries.

And then you’ve come to the point where you’re sure that you cannot stay where you are. No matter how much the Darkness pleads with you, you keep telling it, no, you cannot stay, you need to go. Darkness doesn’t let itself be let down so easily though, Darkness gets even more angry now, but so do you. It’s a fight you think will never end. But you keep kicking, keep swimming, because there’s something out there that calls for you, that screams for you, that cries for you. Something that needs you. To your own surprise, you notice the Darkness getting weaker, like it understands your determination, but it doesn’t let go. But with every kick, you see the Light coming closer, hear the voices becoming louder, even feel the hands on yours and on your face. The Darkness is screaming now, screaming in desperation. Please stay, you! You’re my friend! Don’t leave me! I don’t want to be alone! You falter for a moment, feeling sorry. It’s not Darkness’s fault. Darkness loves you, Darkness does not hurt you like Light will.

“Daddy!”

I’m sorry.

And finally it lets go and you feel free, so free. It’s not far now and just when you want to look back one more time, you can feel the Light pulling at you now instead. Surging you through a world of dizzying colours, of deafening noises and blurred images. And just when you think you cannot take it anymore, that you were indeed better off in the Dark, it becomes silent. You realize that you’re floating only just below the surface. There are people talking to you, encouragingly.

“You can do it, buddy, just open your eyes!” One speaks, excited. If it were only that simple, you would have done it sooner. Your eyes feel like they are not a part of you. So do your hands, legs and everything else that had once belonged to your own free will. Free will. It has been a while since you’ve possessed anything even close to that.

There’s another voice too, just as excited, but a little calmer than the first one.

“It’s okay, Bri, we can take this nice and slow. There’s no rush alright?” It promises, and you know you love the voice. It squeezes your hand and you try your best to squeeze it back, with all the strength you can muster. Disappointingly, that isn’t much, but the voice is satisfied.

“He can hear us!” it calls out, and you hear the other voices mumble interested. “Bri, can you hear me?” the voice tries for good measure.

You want to scream, yes, you want them to know you’re doing everything you can, you want to tell them to please have patience, but all that comes out is a muffled groan. To your surprise, it gets your bystanders even more excited. You hear them laugh in relief, feel their hands on your body, trying to make sure you know they are there. But you’re not looking for encouraging hands, for calming voices. You want to hear it again, that one thing that has freed you from the Dark.

“Daddy! Wake up Daddy!” it calls and in rush of your last reserve of energy, you comply.

There’s too much Light to keep your eyes open for long, but it’s long enough to see the young face, full of wonder, the blonde, messed up curls that are tickling your face. There’s a huge smile on the face and it resolutely plants its lips on your brow.

“Good Daddy,” it confirms and drops to your chest, resting its head there in a satisfied manner.

You give a deep sigh of exhaustion, the blinding Light tiring your eyes. You want to go back to sleep, but you’re afraid. Afraid that the Darkness will pull you back again, that you’re not strong enough to fight it.

“It’s okay, Rok, go to sleep. You need rest,” one voice promises roughly and you realize your eyes are already closed again. The voice seems to trust you, but the problem is, you don’t trust yourself. You try to open your eyes again, only managing tiny slits now. Doesn’t the voice understand how scared you are? That if you go to sleep now, you might never wake up again? The Darkness is pulling again, it saw its chance and is making good use of it. You try to fight it, afraid the Dark is still mad at you for escaping. It’s getting harder though and you blink a few times, trying to stay awake.

“It’s alright, I know you’re tired, Bri. You did great,” there is a smile in the voice and you realize it’s the same voice as the one that told you to take it nice and slow, “You can rest now.”

You finally decide to trust the voice and you try to relax, letting the Darkness have its way. The Dark is not mad, not at all, it promises. Because it’s your friend, and friends do not hurt you.

 

 

22. Looking Back

23rd of October 2005

I sat there, impatiently. I so didn’t have time for this.

I was painfully aware of my left foot tapping the ground underneath my seat incessantly, but I couldn’t stop it. I watched the others shuffle into the room one by one, occasionally giving me a surprised look. If I wasn’t so cranky, I would have smiled. I usually wasn’t one to come anywhere on time, which probably fuelled their surprise more.

“You look like shit,” AJ informed me briefly before sitting down. I knew he was referring to the dark circles around my eyes. I’d seen them in the mirror this morning.

I had contemplated shoving my face into a box of make-up, but knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere.

I didn’t answer Alex, instead just pretended I hadn’t heard him at all and picked up the single sheet of paper lying before me on the table, pretending to be interested. Kevin placed it there oh so carefully, as he always does everything oh so carefully.

I should be more like him.

For a long time, I had been wondering if I should tell Kev about my little ‘situation’. He’d probably have understood. He’d probably have told me what I should do.

For once, I didn’t have any problem with that.

Desperation is an understatement in this situation.

Somehow, Kevin was actually the last to step in. I bent forward slightly, looking around Nick, who chose a seat beside me. Kev appeared a little nervous, looking around the room swiftly, locating every single one of us with a brief stare. I smiled awkwardly at him.

Tonight I’ll tell him, I thought, tonight I’ll tell him everything. Peter won’t know, cause Kevin is careful. He won’t tell anyone, I was sure of it.

He remained standing, the frown on his face deepening as the silence continued. Expectantly, we all looked up at him, as we had always done. This time it was even more obvious, cause he was the one that called this meeting in the first place and the rest of us had no idea what it was about.

“Alright, thanks for coming,” he began and I rolled my eyes exasperatedly. It wasn’t like we had a choice, but to come. I watched Kevin swallow before he continued and briefly wondered who could have died for him to look like that, “There’s something I’ve been considering for a while, and I’d like to finally speak my mind today.”

We didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for Kevin to continue talking. By now we were all accustomed to his tendency to use a lot of words and speak very slowly. I often consider the possibility that he could have done a lot more with his life if he just added a little more tempo to his speech.

“So, there’s probably no easy way to go around this, so I’m just going to lay it out,” Kevin breathed and I suddenly got the nauseating feeling that I knew what he was going to say, “I’ve been thinking of taking a break,” he said.

“Like a bathroom break?” Nick said in an attempt to be funny. Kevin glared at him, but didn’t say anything.

“No, you idiot,” I heard Howie, who was furthest away from me, mumble, “He means a sabbatical.”

“Ah,” Nick muttered, “What’s that?”

“Its… It’s more permanent than that, Howard,” Kevin stammered, ignoring Nick’s question.

“You’re leaving… He- He’s leaving!” AJ was the first to shout it and I flinched slightly at his volume. But at Kevin’s silence, I knew he was right.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I barely listened as Kevin started to desperately explain how he had come to such a decision. Something about wanting a family, about being tired of touring and about lost inspiration in about anything. I don’t think anything could have convinced me at that point though as I felt an indescribable rage welling up slowly.

Kevin couldn’t leave. He just couldn’t. He was about the sole reason I even got into the Backstreet Boys. He was practically the one that dragged me into this whole circus, and now he was leaving? He was also the only one that would understand, even if it was just a little, if I told him about Peter.

I noticed the entire room was suddenly layered in thick silence. I was breathing hard, trying to control myself, but I knew it was a losing battle. One by one, all heads turned to look at me with a uncertain, maybe even scared expression on their faces. I hadnt said anything the entire meeting.

“Brian?” Howie asked uncertainly, which was a cue for me to let it all go. I yelled, I screamed, said words that I didn’t even know I knew. They were terrible and slammed down on Kevin like a brick wall. I really couldn’t care about that at that moment. I had never felt so betrayed, so alone as I did in that moment. Kevin had been my last hope, but as it turned out, he was just as selfish and arrogant as everybody else. He only cared about inspiration, touring and family, not at all about running psychos on the loose that wanted to…

I stood up with a lot of noise, the abandoned chair falling over behind me. “Well, if you want to go so badly, then just stay gone! We don’t need you! In fact, I guess it would be better this way! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

I only know that I meant every word in that very moment. I had run out, rage closing up my throat. I don’t remember where I went, but I do know nobody bothered to go after me.

3rd of October 2005


I stared down at the weapon in my hands, almost in trance.

I sighed, still not entirely sure what had possessed me to buy the thing. I wasn’t one to wield guns and knives, but yet here I was, fascinated by the shining metal in my hands. I turned it over a few times, feeling its weight, the smooth, brand new iron frame, not daring to touch the trigger. I knew it wasn’t loaded, I had made sure about a dozen times, but the whole thing seemed so surreal, it might just as well be.

I bit my lip hard, suddenly very glad the room was dark.

The unsettling feeling of being watched was ever present and my grip around the pistol tightened. I tried to take deep, even breaths, calming myself down slowly. I was alone, I was sure of it. I checked about a dozen times.

Through the years, I had learnt there were typically two types of stalkers: the ones that loved you for all eternity, and the ones that didn’t. They either wanted to marry, or kill you.

Slowly but surely, we had learnt how to handle both types.

Basically, all we did was report them to the police and wait and see. Type one was usually after me, type two went after my wife. I hated them both. Stupid girls put their noses where they didn’t belong. I didn’t let it get to me.

They normally weren’t too smart and in that way, they could be taken care of rather quick.

Then there was this... freak.

I didn’t know who it was, or how he knew the things he knew. I hadn’t even seen him, really. The messages he left were enough to send me into a panic. I only knew it was a guy, and that he signed every text message and note he send me with ‘love, P.’ He was a lot more passionate and devoted in this job then I was used to, and had made it pretty clear that if I even thought about going to the police, he’d know. I still hadn’t figured out which one of the types he was.

I shuddered at that thought, and then gained a little bit of hope out of the fact that if he did manage to come close, I had a way to defend myself.

“Hey Brian T, Howie D is back!” a voice blasted through the dark room and I jumped about a mile into the air.

Howie and I had had the rest of the day off when we finished the melodies that morning. He’d asked me to come shopping with him, but I had refused, making up a lame excuse about prior made commitments. He’d looked at me with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if I was lying and had then just walked away. He seemed rather chipper now though.

“Jeez Howard, do you always intend on walking in on people to scare the crap out of them?” I growled angrily, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

“That depends if their conscience is bugging them or not,” Howie said, studying my face. I swallowed, suddenly remembering to put the weapon behind my back. Of course Howie noticed.

“What you got there, B-Rok?” He questioned with a frown.

“Nothing.” It was a stupid comeback, but it was the only comeback I had at that point.

Howie didn’t believe me and in a flash, his hand flew around my waist, clasping the pistol I still held against my back. I closed my eyes in resignation, knowing how busted I was. Howie looked up at me in utter shock.

“Brian, what are you planning to do with that?” His tone was authoritative, but a bit pretentious, like he was impersonating someone.

“It does not concern you, D.”

Howie didn’t agree and told me that when he saw someone that was in the same room with a gun, he was allowed to be concerned. That logic was as solid as it could get and I sighed, assuring I wasn’t planning to shoot him. He asked who I was going to shoot instead and I thought about that for a few seconds.

“It’s not to shoot someone, it’s precaution.”

I wasn’t lying, not entirely. It was precaution, I just didn’t tell him… everything. Howard was still not convinced. “Precaution?” He sounded incredulous.

“Yeah, so I can feel safe?” It seemed obvious.

Howie scoffed, telling me we had the best bodyguards in the world to keep us safe. I wanted to say I doubted that, but managed to keep my mouth shut. I listened as he suggested to give the gun to him, so he could put it away.

“What? No! Why?” I said, panicked. If Howie took the gun, I had nothing left to defend myself. P would just show up and… well, I wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do, but he scared me enough to take precautions when that happened.

‘’For one, what if Baylee sees it? What if he touches it?” He explained patiently. He did have a point. Baylee and a gun was the last thing I wanted. The whole idea of buying a gun seemed incredibly selfish suddenly. Maybe I should have just told Howie everything right then and there, but I didn’t. I only handed over the weapon without a word, making Howie promise, like I always made everyone promise, not to tell anybody about any of this.

16.

November 10th 2005

“So, what you doin’?” Nick asked in an excited voice.

Everything he said and did was overly excited lately and I suspected he was trying to compensate for the fact Kevin left. When he noticed I wasn’t going to pay him any attention, he gave me a death stare and suddenly his face was mere inches from mine. In a reflex, I hid the phone in my hands behind my back, shooting him a terrified and angry look.

“Dude!” Nick smiled, “Are you actually sexting?”

I didn’t want to admit that I had no idea what that was, but I think I got the main point, and I felt my face getting warmer as it got more and more red. I wasnt sexting, not in the least, but wouldn’t it be convenient if Nick thought I was? It would surely explain why I didn’t want him to look on my phone.

“Maybe…” I drawled with a shy grin.

It worked as I watched Nick’s eyes get big and an enormous smirk appeared on his face.

“Wow! Oh God, you sly dog! So there is more to you than meets the eye! That is great news, man! I’m so happy!”

“Yeah, that’s great,” I muttered, “you mind keeping that between us?” I asked, although I knew it already was a lost cause. I tried to keep my tired mind focused on Nick’s excited rattle of words when I suddenly felt the phone vibrate behind my back.

“… And I didn’t even know miss Barbie Doll was into that sorta thing!”

I would have kicked his ass for making a comment like that, if all my attention hadn’t been absorbed by the text message displaying on my phone’s screen.

Get out of the building… now.

I stared at it for a long moment, Nick’s speech entirely forgotten. The now familiar sense of panic intensified as I tried to decide what the text meant. It seemed completely foolish to comply, but at the same time, it would maybe even more idiotic if I didn’t.

“I need to go,” I muttered to the floor in a choked voice, not daring to look at Nick as I fled the conference room.

“Where are you going?” Nick’s voice called after me.

I didn’t look back, by now I was practically running. I tried to ignore the wild scenarios popping into my brain.

I shouldn’t be surprised that Peter knew where I was, because he always did. I couldn’t hide from him, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I wanted to. He was always there, spying, lurking, not making any move, and just making sure I knew he was there. The mind game had gone on for months and was driving me over the brink of madness. His messages were usually casual, not expressing much, but they still managed to set my teeth on edge and settle a fear deep within me, as they described in a somewhat upbeat manner what I had done from day to day. I wished, prayed with all my might for it to end, for the nightmare to be over, like I had wished and prayed for so many nights before.

Warily, I looked around when I finally exited the building. I didn’t have to wait long. A strong hand clamped around my upper arm and I was jerked back into the side-alley behind me. Instinctively, I whirled around, shoving at whoever was behind me. The guy stumbled back and for the first time in 4 months, I got to have a good look at him.

“It’s you!” I exclaimed in shock, stumbling back myself.

It couldn’t be him! I hadn’t have to deal with him in… in almost 7 years really.

Peter Robins smiled knowingly, “Not who you expected, I presume?”

I didn’t say anything as I tried to process what was happening. Peter was dangerous; I had known that for a long time. But he was also locked up in prison.

“Y-You can’t be here!” I stammered weakly, taking a few steps back until my back was pressed against the brick wall behind me.

Robins frowned and narrowed his dark eyes, “Oh, you mean the jail thing!” he finally said, a hand flying up in realization, “Yeah, I got out.”

Yeah, no shit, I thought, but kept silent. Peter licked his lips and stared at me eagerly. The whole thing made me very uneasy and though it wasn’t physically possible, I shrunk deeper into the wall. “What are you doing here?” I squeaked. It sounded pathetic, but I was proud for managing to get out anything at all.

“You know, it was really unfair what you did all those years ago,” Peter growled, but he didn’t sound angry. His voice was challenging, a small smile twitching on his lips. “You had no right to put me down like that.”

“I had every right,” I hissed suddenly. “And you know it!”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you; you shouldn’t have gone to the police, Bri.”

“Anyone would have, after what you tried to do!” I defended, fairly pissed now. Was this really what it was all about?

“You can’t blame me for that! I was just… I didn’t mean…”

Peter stammered and for the first time, I could tell he was just as desperate as I was.

“You’re sick Pete,” I whispered, “Just leave me alone. Stop following me, just… just go.”

That was apparently not what he had been waiting for and I watched his expression go from pleading, to absolutely livid. He suddenly pressed himself against me roughly, causing my head to slam back against the wall. Blinking, I willed the world to stop spinning as I felt Peters hands encircling my throat. He was beginning to squeeze tightly and my vision blurred, but I didn’t look away. The manic look in his eyes was compromised by tears and I gave him a pleading look.

“Don’t do this, Pete,” I croaked, my voice little more than a whisper.

“Damnit!” He swore and finally let go, “You know, if you didn’t… if you hadn’t…”

I gasped for air, finally averting my gaze to the ground as I doubled over. My throat burnt and I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to get enough air into my lungs again.

“I wouldn’t hurt you Brian, I would never do anything to hurt you,” I heard Peter cry, but he sounded far away. I only managed to raise my head before he crashed into me again, “Seven years! Seven incredibly long years! How could you do that to me?”

I clenched my jaw, looking directly at him, but didn’t say a word. He knew why I’d done it and yet he still was unable to control his urges, just like he had been all those years ago.

“You know,” he continued, uncontrollable now, “I waited for you, but you… you never came. It broke my heart!” he screamed and for a second, I was afraid that he was going to strangle me again.

“You did hurt me, Pete. I can’t forgive you for that,” I said.

It sounded final, exactly as I had meant it to be. I didn’t understand why Peter couldn’t get the fact that what he’d done was incredibly wrong. I watched him shake his head vigorously, determined.

“No, you’re wrong,” he said, “you’ll understand, I know you will.”

By now, I had basically figured out what he wanted from me, and the nauseous sensation in my stomach grew worse as I looked at him. “Leave me alone,” I repeated, my voice unbelievably steady compared to the rapid pounding of my heart. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“You’re wrong, Brian,” Peter told me again, bringing his face mere inches from mine, not much unlike Nick had done only ten minutes before, “You’re wrong and I know why.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s because of them…” he said and my eyes got big in fear, “We can never be together as long as they’re here.”

I barely noticed him letting go of me. I barely saw him step back and looking down on me. I barely heard his footsteps as he walked away. I slowly sunk down against the wall as I realized what his words meant.

Baylee…

11th of November 2005

I don’t remember how I got there, but suddenly, I was on my brother’s porch, wildly banging on the front door. I faintly felt the tears rolling down my face, but I couldn’t really care at that moment.

“Harry!” I cried, panting hard. I found it particularly difficult to keep the panic at bay. What was taking him so long? Peter hadn’t followed me, had he? I yelled his name a few more times, and finally the door creaked and revealed my very disoriented, sleepy looking brother.

“Brian?” he asked, amazed. “What the hell?”

I only then realized it was eleven thirty in the evening, and my brother looked less than happy to see me, considering he had to get up for work tomorrow at a God-awful point in time. His annoyed expression turned into a concerned one in record speed though, when he took in my dishevelled appearance and tearstained face.

“Brian, what are you doing here?” he asked softly, reaching out a hand.

I could have considered the fact that the last time had time to visit my brother was two years ago. I could have considered that Harry was mostly an outsider in most parts of my life. I could have considered that of all people, Harry was the last person who’d know what to do when a stalker was on your ass.

I didn’t. I only considered the fact that Harold was my older brother, and that, of all people on the entire face of this earth, he’d know what was best. That’s why I didn’t bother to say a word there on his porch, that’s exactly why I just stumbled forward, wrapped my shaky arms around his neck and pressed my face into his shoulder. It was eleven thirty, no one else could see us, I was sure of it. I checked about a dozen times.

Harold was completely caught off-guard, and clumsily stumbled backwards into the house. Not knowing what else to do, he returned the suffocating embrace and I felt like I was five years old again, waking up from another nightmare about hospitals and illness. Harry had been there, just like he always was. Just like he was now.

“Bro, you’re kinda freaking me out here,” Harry muttered, trying to break free as I desperately clung to him. “You gotta tell me what’s going on.”

I just shook my head. I couldn’t tell Harry anything. What if Peter found out? Just the thought of that maniac made my heart pick up speed and I was breathing way too quickly. It was like being back in that alley, Peter’s menacing face hovering above me as he said those words.

As long as they’re here.

I felt my knees buckle as Harry’s face became a picture of blurry splotches. In a flash of a second, the oxygen seemed all but disappeared and I was left gasping for air.

I could almost feel Peter’s meaty hands close around my throat again as he…



“Woah, woah! Brian, you gotta take it easy, okay? Here come on, let’s put you on the couch,” Harold’s voice sounded so far away, although he was right next to me, it sounded like he was calling from across the street. I barely noticed as he dragged me to the couch, pushing me down gently. I could feel his hands on my arms and his worried gaze boring into my forehead.

“Just… try to take deep breaths, alright?” He coaxed sternly, squeezing my arms, “Jeez man, you’re scaring me.”

Pressing my palms against my forehead, I kept my head down, trying to drown out the noise and horrifying thoughts inside my mind and squeezed my eyes shut.

“That’s it,” my brother’s voice drifted, “You ain’t gonna have a heart-attack on my couch.”

I finally looked up at him with teary eyes, trying to suppress a sob that closed up my throat. Harold’s eyes studied me intently, scrutinizing every inch of my face, in search of the answer as to why I had suddenly shown up at his doorstep, completely freaking out. Suddenly, he frowned deeply, “Brian, what happened to your throat?”

I only shook my head again, not daring to speak. I knew that if I would say one word, all the rest would surely follow after, and then, there would be no turning back.

“Damn it, bro, don’t go give me that crap!” Harry said and I flinched at his tone, “you can’t expect me to not start asking questions when you show up like this! You scared the hell out of me!”

I dropped my gaze and put my head back into my hands, covering my ears. It was wrong for me to have come here, I realized that now. Peter would kill Harry if he found out I’d come to him. I couldn’t let that happen. Harold didn’t have to do anything with this, I should have pulled him into this mess. I faintly felt him put one hand on my knee, trying to force me to look at him.

“Hey,” he said gently, “Whatever it is, we can figure it out, alright? You don’t have to do this alone.”

12th of November 2005

Harold Littrell III was my big brother. He always did stuff big brothers were supposed to do. He was the one that kicked our soccer ball on the roof of the shed and told Dad it was my fault. He was the one that went out late with his friends and made me cover for him. He was the one that shoved me into the pool in the middle of winter and gave me pneumonia. He was the one that stole my StarWars action figures and dumped them in the ditch behind our house, just because he was jealous. He was the one that used to laugh at me, together with my cousin Kevin, at my pathetic attempts of being one of the big, cool boys, like they were.

He was also the one who delivered Ricky Montero a broken nose, because he called me short. He was the one that helped me with basketball practice the entire summer, so that I would make the High School’s team, even if I never did- which wasn’t his fault, because I actually was short.

He was one of the first people I told about Kevin’s phone-call to join a singing group I knew nothing about, and told me to ‘just go for it.’

Harry was the most stereotypical big brother you could think of. He was either terrorizing you to no end, or he was there to take care of you. He was the only person I could have run to in a time like this. I hadn’t said a word ever since I’d woke him up by banging frantically on his front door, but he didn’t ask anything. I knew he was dying to find out what was wrong, but would keep his curiosity at bay, as long as I didn’t feel like talking.

That was how it should be, like it had always been. It was around midnight when he re-emerged from the kitchen with two large, damping cups of coffee. By then he’d figured we were both not going to get a minute of sleep that night as long as things weren’t sorted out. I kept my stoic gaze on the coffee table, not wanting to break the thick layer of silence that had settled between us. I felt his curious, worried stare bore into the side of my head as he chose a spot on the seat next to me. It was a tactic he’d used several times before. He’d just keep staring until I’d break and tell him everything.

I remember the moment I had to actually tell him I hadn’t made the basketball team, after we’d trained the whole summer. He’d used the same tactic then too. I didn’t expect for it to work this time. This was too big of a thing. I took a deep breath.

“He’s gonna kill them,” I mumbled, and then frowned. I couldn’t believe I actually said that.

“Excuse me?” Harold asked, confused.

“He’s gonna kill my son,” I shrieked, definitely panicking again.

“What are you talking about?” Harry questioned helplessly.

“He’s after me, he’s gonna kill them. Oh God, Harold, I can’t let that happen!”

My brother got up quickly and knelt before me, “Brian? Brian, look at me,” he instructed and I had no choice but to comply. “Listen, nobody’s going to kill anybody, alright? Don’t say things like that.”

“Y-You don’t understand!” I managed to squeak through my tears, “He’s dangerous, like… like a weird psychopath.”

“Who?”

“…Peter.”

“Peter the Psychopath?” Harold repeated incredulously.

At that moment I hated him. I told him something I was not supposed to tell anyone, and he didn’t even believe me. I nodded in contempt, standing up, swaying only slightly.

“Yeah,” I breathed, “Anyway, I should go. Thanks for letting me in, I’ll be okay now.”

“Woah, I don’t think so, bro. It’ll probably be better if you stay here tonight.”

“I shouldn’t. I have to be in New Jersey tomorrow morning.”

“I insist,” Harry’s voice was stern, “I’m not gonna let you wander off alone like this.”

Being alone didn’t necessarily score high on my ‘things I wanted to do’ list and I nodded stupidly, staring at my brother for further instructions.

“You can take the sofa, I ain’t gonna have you in my bed,” he suggested and I nodded again.

“Alright, good night,” Harry started to walk to the door, then hesitated, “It will be alright, lil’ bro.”
I didn’t say anything, but felt just the tiny bit better at his words. He was probably right. As long as Harry was there, nothing bad would happen.



I woke up in a sweat, panting. The nightmare faded slowly and I shook my head, wondering where the hell I was for a moment. Harry’s house was large, much too big for a man living here on his own for the past two years. But then again, people said that about my house as well. I got up stiffly. I had a six thousand dollar mattress at home, and wasn’t all that used to sleeping on couches. Stretching, I turned to the kitchen, looking briefly at the clock. It was almost eight in the morning, and if I wanted to be anywhere near on time in New Jersey, I’d have to leave in about ten minutes.

Ah well, getting on time was overrated.

To my surprise, Harold appeared in the doorway just five minutes later. Normally, he got up for work around seven and left ten minutes later. He was an early bird.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I stated the obvious.

“I called in sick,” Harry mumbled, leaning against the counter. I had chosen a chair at the dining table and gingerly let myself sink down on it. Harry was staring at me again, waiting for me to give in…. so I did.

“What?” I growled.

“You were having a nightmare.” Harry stated solemnly. I blinked.

“So?”

“Wanna tell me what it was about?”

“Not really.”

“Are we gonna pretend nothing is wrong now?”

“I don’t know, can we?”

“So you didn’t tell me anything last night?” Harry sounded annoyed. This game went down almost everytime we really needed to talk, but neither of us felt like it.

“I was kinda hoping that had been part of the nightmare too,” I muttered. Wordlessly, Harold handed me a glass of apple juice. “Really? I could do with a double whiskey right now,” I grumbled, but accepted the drink nevertheless.

“Too bad I don’t have any. Besides, it’s eight o’clock in the morning.”

I just shrugged and took a long sip of the sweet, sugary liquid. I tried to keep my thoughts and feelings superficial. Harry sighed deeply and finally came to sit next to me. “You sure you okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the table. If I turned to look at him, I would surely break down again. I tried to smile, but I was pretty sure it looked more like a horrifying deformation of my mouth than an actual smile, so I stopped that too. We sat in silence for a while, both of us staring at the table with fake interest.

Bzzz

My phone vibrated against my leg and I stiffened noticeably. Deftly, I kept staring ahead, sipping the apple juice Harold had given me like there was nothing happening. I felt Harry’s expectant gaze upon me and took a deep breath.

“I should probably see who it is,” I smiled that horrifying smile again. Harry nodded with a frown, not blinking even once.

I reached down into my pocket, closing my fingers around the device that had caused me so much stress in the last few months. I closed my eyes briefly before turning it on, accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

I swallowed hard, recognizing the voice instantly. “Why are you calling me?”

“You shouldn’t have gone to your brother, Brian.”

“Why are you calling?” I repeated, squeezing my eyes shut.

“You’re gonna watch them die one by one, I promise you that,” Peter growled and then hung up. I took the phone from my ear and stared at it as if it were a foreign object. Feeling my heartbeat rising, I nearly dropped the device as it vibrated in my hands again.

You’re gonna watch them die, Brian.

I stared at the message, then at Harold’s concerned face and finally I flung the phone with an outraged scream across the kitchen.

Jumping up, I ignored Harry’s surprised yelp as I crossed the room in only four long strides and threw open the door. I was angry, no, I was furious. How dare he? How dare he blatantly threaten my family like that?

“Brian!” I heard Harry call weakly, but I didn’t pay him any attention. I was shaking in anger, looking around for something I could molest, something I could break to feel just a tiny bit better.

“Brian!” Harry yelled again, a little louder this time, a little more urgent as well. In a flash, he stood behind me, grabbing my wrists, just like Peter had done before he’d dragged me into the alley. I growled like a wild animal, turning around and shoving my older brother back.

He stumbled, almost falling over the antique decoration that was set up on the side table next to the couch. Instead, he managed to avoid the expensive looking vase and landed on his bum instead.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Harold cried, breathing hard as he hurriedly got to his feet again.

I stared at him savagely, panting like I had done the hundred meters in ten seconds.

“Nothing,” I replied flatly, “Nothing is the matter. I’m alright. I’m sorry I shoved you.”

Harold shook his head vigorously, not daring to touch my arms again. “You’re not alright, damnit! Don’t lie to me, Brian!”

“I’m not lying,” I told him monotonously, “I’ll have to leave now.”

“No! Don’t you dare!” Harry yelled, but I was already backing away.

“You can’t keep me here, Harold,” I said softly, a small, apologetic smile on my lips. “I have a recording day. Also known as a busy day.”

“Brian…”

“I’ll see you later.”

14th of November 2005

“So are you coming or not?” Howie’s voice blasted through my ears and I jumped slightly. We were in the middle of Livingston, New Jersey. We’d had a day off, due to a funeral of a relative of the studio’s owner. Despite that fact, everyone seemed in a good mood. We’d been working none stop on the new material for over three days and a little break seemed more than welcome.

For them.

The more I had to work, the less I had to think, it seemed. What was I gonna do with a whole day off? Peter hadn’t bothered me in two days and I was extremely glad for that, but on the other hand, I had no idea what he had been doing instead.

“Huh?” I replied lamely. I didn’t want to admit I had completely tuned out from the conversation, but Howie wasn’t fooled. Howie was never fooled.

“I asked if you’re coming or not? Where is your mind lately, dude?” Howie asked again, giving me a curious look.

“I-I don’t know,” I said, trying to focus on his face, “Where are we going?”

“Nick’s dragging us to the movies,” Howie said with a smile.

“I’m not coming with you,” I decided, only then noticing how tired I really was, “But have fun.”

“What, why not?”

I just shrugged, said something about a headache and took the bus back to the hotel. It was perfect; nobody would expect me to take the bus. Not at all Peter. I walked the rest of the way, closing my eyes against the glaring winter sun. It was chilly and sunny all at the same time, and I shoved my hands into my pockets as I approached the slide doors.

“So nice of you to finally drop by,” a voice hissed and I had about two seconds to stop dead in my tracks before two large hands grabbed my arms and hauled me back. Before I could scream, Peter clamped a hand over my mouth and stared at me angrily.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” he barked roughly, not at all phased by my weak attempt to struggle out of his grip. “We’re gonna go in, and pretend like it’s the most normal thing in the world, got that?”

When I didn’t answer him immediately, he shook me wildly and I glared furiously at him, but nodded eventually.

“Good,” he smiled maliciously. He let go of my mouth and looked down at me, “You look like shit.”

I did not want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, so I just kept glaring at him while he led us through the lobby of the hotel. By now I was absolutely petrified to know what he was doing here and what he was going to do.

But I also figured that as long as he was here, he couldn’t be with my family. I threw some of the hotel employees a desperate, pleading look, but all they did is look at me as if I'd grown three extra heads.

So much for faith in people.

I don’t know when I start praying. Maybe it’s in the elevators, maybe a little after that. All I know is that Peter doesn’t really like it. I didn’t care about that.

The impending feeling of something really bad that was going to happen kept getting stronger. I cursed myself over and over again for not checking in with security today.

“Open the door,” Peter ordered impatiently as I fumbled with the key card.

“Hold on!” I snarled, “Jeez!”

As we both filed into the room, I immediately knew he’d been there. The pit in my stomach grew double its size as I took in the various items he’s carefully lined up on the bed’s headboard.

“W-what’s this?” I mumbled, involuntarily taking a step back. I looked back just in time to see Peter closing the door and locking it. I terrible sense of claustrophobia crept up as I watched him get closer with wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I really wish it didn’t have to come to this,” Peter sighed, looking at the ground.

“Come to what? What’s going on?” I asked, panicked. My voice was shrill and sounded strained as I pushed the words out.

“You wanna save your family, don’t you?” Peter said, this time looking directly at me.

I took a few more steps back, until my back connected with the door. I really did not like where this was going. I had been thinking about taking a vacation. Far away from the group, from America, from Peter…

Australia would have done just fine.

“You’ve gotta do it, Brian, you’ve gotta do it for them.”

I frowned, not understanding then. His gaze averted and settled on the bottles that were lined up on the bed. I swallowed nervously. What was he talking about?

“I’ll do it too,” Peter’s voice was soft, as if he was trying to comfort me, “It’s the only way, Bri.”

I shuddered at the nickname, my gaze on the bottles now as well. Frowning, I slowly realized what he was implying.

“What?” I shrieked, “No!”

“It’s the only way, Brian! You know that! It’s the only way we can be together!”

“I don’t want that, Peter!” I growled, disgusted. Turning around, I helplessly fumbled with the doorknob, hoping it would just magically open.

“You want them to be safe, don’t you?” Peter yelled and in two strides he was facing me, planting his palm forcefully against the door next to my head. I flinched in surprise.

“I-I…”

“Cause I can promise you, I will never stop hunting them down. Not your family, or your friends, or anyone you’ve ever even known. You can’t keep them safe forever. You know that. I have time enough, I can track them down, you don’t stand a chance,” Peter didn’t smile, but there was a malicious glint in his eyes that assured me he was serious.

“You’re insane,” I breathed, searching desperately for a way out. I felt the tears glistening in my eyes. “I’m not doing it.”

“Oh, but you will,” Peter stated soberly, “It’s just a matter of pressure. I don’t want to get my hands dirty, but I will if I have to. I’ve got nothing to lose. Do you?”

“You can’t force me to do this,” I said. I was trying to buy time, though I knew it was a long shot. Somewhere, I still hoped the movie the others had gone to wasn’t worth watching the whole way through. Somewhere, I still hoped that one of them had forgotten something and was forced to return to their hotel room. Somewhere, I still hoped one of them was wondering why I acted so weird all the time.

“You’d be surprised at what you can actually force people to do, if you’ve got the right leverage,” Peter smiled, almost apologetic. “I don’t think we’ve got to use violence for this, right?”

I clenched my jaw, tearing my gaze away from his face to stare at the bed. I swallowed back my tears and took a shaky breath. “If I do this, they’ll be safe? You’re not gonna hurt them?”

Peter gave me an encouraging smile, “I’ll be right behind you,” he promised softly.

Did I really want to do this? Did I care little enough about myself to keep them safe? Was that a question?

“Okay,” I said, biting my lip, “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“I can help you, if you like,” Peter suggested quietly. I wanted to scream at him, no, of course I wouldn’t like that! I wouldn’t like any of this! Instead I just managed to nod tightly, the tears definitely streaming down now. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, because if I took the time to do that, I would also realize what I was about to do.

The worst part of dying is knowing you are.

“You gotta make sure it works,” I heard Peter whisper, his face mere inches from mine. When had that happened? “You can’t just take the pills, they’re not enough.”

I kept my mouth shut, feeling my heart trying to leap out of my chest. A painful crash echoed from the bathroom. How had it come to this? It was definitely not the type of evening I had planned. I had just wanted to go back to my room and take a good night rest. That wasn’t much to ask for, was it? I wondered about this as I saw Peter return from the bathroom with a few shards of glass. His fingers were bloody, which made me assume he had just taken the glass that was in the medicine cabinet and smashed it to pieces.

“We’ll call this insurance,” Peter instructed, holding up the shards for me to see, “First, we’ll take the pills, and if we need to, we’ll use the glass.”

I shot him an expressionless stare. My mind was yelling at me to run, to get the hell out and go all the way to the police station to tell them everything. Another part of my mind was dead tired, and didn’t really care anymore. If this was the only way out, the only way to make sure everybody stayed safe, then so be it.

“Do it for them,” Peter whispered in my ear, “They’ll be fine, I promise.”

It was only in the last possible minute, before Peter opened the bottles, before he set the glass to my arms, that I thought of the note.

“I’ll have to leave a note!” I shrieked.

Peter seemed to think about it for a minute and then nodded. “What are you gonna write?”

I shrugged, “The usual, I guess.”

The code was only an afterthought, a desperate attempt at getting somebody, hopefully Nick’s, attention. A way for them to figure it out, to have peace with what happened. I left the piece of paper on the nightstand and nodded. It looked good that way.

“It won't hurt... Do it, Brian,” Peter whispered again, “Do it for them.”


And I did.

18th of January 2006


“Yes, he’s got a long way to go, and we will make sure he gets all the help he needs, either physically or mentally,” I concluded with a sigh, “If you will excuse us now.”

I flinched, only mildly surprised as the crowd that had hung on every word I had spoken, suddenly, exploded in a discontent clamour. The press was most clearly not satisfied with my fake description of what happened and what was happening now. Well, too bad for them. I had enough to deal with without the media frenzy. I didn’t think I’d given too much away. And in the end, there wasn’t really all that much I could tell them anyway.

Looking over the crowd, I saw Kevin in the far corner, nodding sternly. He was not at all fazed by the uproar in the crowd and motioned to the backdoor. I nodded back, glad that at least Kevin was satisfied with how I had handled the press conference. And by the time Kevin was satisfied, most people were.

“But… but…?”

“How did you…?”

“Where had he…?”

“When were you…?”

I could only hear half of the questions they spew and I raised my hands in an attempt to calm the anxious crowd.

“When we know more, we’ll be sure to let you know,” I muttered. Without a second look, I turned around, ducking under Q’s outstretched hand to be led out of the room. It was almost like half of the country had filed in when we announced that I was going to do the press conference.

It’s sort of what happens when you disappear from the face of the planet for two months straight without a clear explanation, I guess. I shuddered as the crowd only got more nervous at my absence.

“Mr. Dorough! Wait! What about…” was the last thing I heard when Q slammed the door of the car shut with an exhausted sigh. He quickly took a seat beside me and instructed the driver to take off. Sitting back, I let my head fall against the window, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

“Did I already tell you how much I appreciate you getting here on such a short notice,” I told Q, glancing at him from the corners of my eyes.

“Oh well,” he mumbled, “I am still the group’s bodyguard, technically. This is what I get paid for,” he said bitterly and I frowned. It had occurred to me that Q had taken it upon himself to make sure to do his job with double as much effort as he had done before. He didn’t trust most of the other bodyguards and security to do it for him anymore. I suspected he felt like he needed to make up for what happened to Brian. I suddenly felt sorry for him, considering none of this was his fault in particular.


I just nodded slightly, facing the window again, “Yeah but still, we only announced the conference this morning, I really appreciate you could come.”

Q shrugged, frowning. We hadn’t really told him what happened, although he had been working for us for more than ten years. I knew he was dying to know, but kept quiet. At least until we almost arrived at the hospital.

“So how is he?” He questioned, a worried expression betraying his otherwise nonchalant features.

It was my turn to shrug, “I don’t know. It’s just gonna take time, I guess. A lot of time.”

I really didn’t wanna talk or think about Brian right now.

Ever since he’d woken up, everyone expected us to know how he was. But the truth is, I really don’t know. He doesn’t talk, doesn’t even move all that much. He just stares.

It’s really uncomfortable sometimes and I don’t know if his silence is because of the possible brain damage doctors warned us about, or if it has its roots in whatever happened that night in the Westminster Hotel. It seems like the only time we can make sure there is some life left in Brian, is when Baylee is in the room.

The boy is only three years old, and it’s hard to tell if he noticed a change in his father at all. And if he does, he doesn’t seem bothered by it. He’s the only one that can somehow interact with Brian, which makes me hope that maybe things will turn out alright after all.

I softly stepped into the room, greeting Brian with my eyes, hoping for some kind of recognition, but receiving none. He only blinked and then turned his gaze back to the young boy sitting on the end of the bed. Baylee was lively telling an intriguing, but unintelligible story, waving his hands about in gigantic gestures to emphasize his points. Brian watched his son intently and nodded every now and then in confirmation. I could swear there was a small smile creeping up on his face the longer and the louder the small boy continued his story.

Mesmerized, I almost jumped in shock when I heard Harold clear his throat. He was sitting in the back of the room, quietly observing his brother and nephew. I hadn’t seen him before and turned swiftly to face him. Neither father nor son paid any attention to the noise Harry had made, and I listened as Baylee talked about a gigantic cookie Kevin gave him, in an excited voice. I’m not sure Brian actually understood anything Baylee told him, but now I can definitely tell there’s a smile on his face.

Tearing my gaze from the scene on the bed, I turned to face Harold once more, giving him a questioning look. “How long?” I asked him.

“Hmmm, almost fifteen minutes now,” Harold replied, glancing at his watch with a smile.

“Hmm,” I contemplated, “Must be a new record.” I slowly lowered myself down on the chair next to him “Damn, that boy can talk.”

“It’ll get a little better every day,” Harry said with a hopeful smirk. “Wonder where the boy gets it from.”

I smile too as we watch Baylee almost tumble off the bed in excitement, throwing his hands up in the air to describe just how enormous the cookie really was. “I hope he manages to stay on the bed.”

Harold nodded absently, his eyes suddenly glazing over, “How’d the conference go?”

I sighed, my smile turning into a frown, “It didn’t. God, I wished I could tell them something to get them off our backs. They just won’t believe we know as little as they do.”

Harold nodded again, his gaze far away, “Yeah, that doesn’t help much,” he muttered “Didn’t AJ’s contact at the police work out?”

I shook my head resignedly. “Not yet, he’s... Peter's not in the criminal database. We’ll just have to dig deeper, I guess,” I spoke quietly, almost whispering. Although I didn’t believe Brian would react in any way if he could hear us, I didn’t want him to know we were talking about him.

“Yeah…” Harry’s voice trailed off as he suddenly shot upright, “Bay, don’t do that!”

Baylee twirled around with big eyes and dropped his father’s hand in shock at Harold’s authoritative tone. He gulped, his bottom lip quivering as he looked at his uncle, then back at his father, who’d finally closed his eyes again. Harry’s gaze softened and he raked a hand through the little boy’s curls, “Let him sleep, Bay.”

The child dropped his gaze and nodded, sitting as still as a statue while he kept a careful watch over his father. I sighed helplessly at the heartbreaking scene. Baylee knew when to keep quiet, even as young as he was. He was a good boy and would make one hell of a good man one day. Now that he knew Brian hadn’t vanished into thin air, he hadn’t let his Dad out of his sight. He went absolutely crazy whenever Leighanne came back to pick him up and head back to the hotel. I watched in silence as Baylee trained his gaze on his father’s sleeping face, neither one of them moving an inch.

Well, fifteen minutes was a nice new record.

“You know what would work?” I asked silently, tearing my eyes away from Brian and Baylee and looking at Harold instead, my eyebrows raised.

“What?” Harry asked, still looking at the bed.

“If we had some way to break into his mail, or something like that,” I mused, not believing I didn’t think of that before.

“How?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “It was just a thought.” I sighed discouraged, “We don’t even know where he hid his phone.”

“I’ve got his phone,” Harold said with a frown.

“You… what?” I quipped, a look of pure confusion etched into my face.

“I have it, it’s in my bag,” Harold replied casually. I stared at him for a few good seconds before jumping up in anger.

“You’ve had it practically this whole time?” I shrieked incredulously.

“W-Well, yeah, I guess,” Harry muttered, doing his best to avoid my heated gaze, “I mean, he left it at my house when he came by that day. I assume he just forgot it.”

“And you didn’t think it was the least bit important to tell us about it?” I panted my voice in a falsetto I’ve never even dreamt of reaching.

“There’s nothing to say,” Harry defended, his eyes big now, shooting from the bed, back at me. Baylee gave us a deathly stare, as if he wanted to say that if he had to keep quiet, we had to do it as well.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice only a little lower this time, “What about his mail or something.”

“There’s nothing there,” Harold explains slowly, “and here’s where it really gets strange. Just before he left, Brian got called on his cell. He completely freaked out after that. But when I checked, there was nothing that indicated he’d been called. It was really strange.”

“Maybe he deleted it,” I frown.

“He couldn’t have. He basically flung the phone through my kitchen window after that call. It’s just luck the phone still worked after that. I practically turned that thing inside out, trying to find answers, but there was just nothing. Except one thing… it still doesn’t make sense…”

“What?” I asked in a strained voice, still angry at Harry for not telling us he had had his brother’s phone the whole time. I impatiently waited for him to stop rummaging through the duffle bag he always had with him.

Triumphantly, he pulled out a battered, cracked cell phone and held it out for me to see.

“Look, there’s nothing in the inbox, but there are several messages going out. Most of them don’t make sense. I think the crash on my kitchen tiles has bumped them up a little.
But there are a few… they’re… they’re just creepy.”

I nodded, snatching the device from his fingers in an instant, flicking through the messages. “What the hell?” I mumbled as I carefully read them.

Gotta get out.

There were several of these, each saying the same thing, every single one. “You didn’t think this was worth mentioning?”

“To confirm what? That my brother was just as crazy as we all already assumed?” Harry replied, “What would it have mattered?”

I shook my head in dismay, clenching my jaw in withheld anger. Harold could be such a clueless idiot sometimes. I kept shaking my head until I reached the last message.

It was an accident.

“It was an accident,” I read aloud, looking up to stare at Brian.

It was an accident.

February 16th 1999

The black-haired Canadian slowly descended the three steps that led to the middle of the dance floor. He squinted, sighing in annoyance as he tried to locate his friend.

Although he was rather tall, Brian was not, and it was kind of difficult to pick him out in a big crowd.

Great.

They hadn’t even been here for half an hour and he had already lost him. Not that it had been his idea to come here in the first place, but okay. Carefully, he wove himself through the dancing, half-drunk mass. He didn’t actually like those sweaty, suffocating clubs. He knew Brian didn’t either. Or didn’t used to, anyway. He’d been rather different lately.

Dissolute almost.

A flash of relief washed over Peter Robins when he spotted his best friend at the bar, where a big group of girls had accumulated around him. Peter had told the young Southerner that only putting on a cap and some shades wouldn’t keep anyone from recognizing him, let alone a crowd of barely legal girls at a night club. Not at all if they brought AJ McLean with them. Slowly approaching the bar, Peter watched Alex make a big deal of showing off, his voice loud and audible even above the thundering music.

“And that, ladies and gentleman, is exactly why I’m never going on a mountain-bike trip with that dude again,” he yelled, pointing at Brian with a big smirk. The latter’s eyebrows shot up, not impressed. Thoughtful, he took another sip of his drink before answering.

“You’re just a sore loser,” he commented, grinning into his glass.

“It’s not fair, you always win at everything,” AJ whined, “Can’t you just pretend to be bad at something?”

“I suck at darts.”

“Challenge accepted,” AJ smiled. The crowd laughed, mission accomplished.

Peter glared, but made sure AJ couldn’t see it. This was definitely one way to make sure the whole club would be focusing their attention towards them for the rest of the night. Pete knew for a fact that that wasn’t something Brian was particularly fond of. AJ didn’t care. Peter did though. Peter cared a lot.

Why couldn’t the freak just keep his mouth shut and act inconspicuous?

It’s just jealousy, Peter had told himself. Nick, AJ and Brian did everything together lately. Mountain-biking, basketball, tennis, golf, and even clubbing, it appeared.

Peter felt excluded. He watched discontent as the two lined up in front of a dart board. AJs grin never left his face as he watched the darts sum a total of 120 and jumped in triumph.

“Your turn!” he pointed excitedly at Brian who shook his head with a smile.

“You might want to calm down, before you pass out,” the older man pointed out, throwing the darts in an unpractised manner. He didn’t lie when he said he sucked.

“Sixteen!” AJ exclaimed, throwing his arms up, “Sucker!”

“Congrats,” Brian murmured and went to retrieve the darts, not caring that one had missed the board altogether and stuck into the wooden wall around it. Peter followed him with his eyes, feeling his heart leap as he watched the gracefulness in Brian’s walk. He closed his eyes for a second, pushing the intruding thoughts away. When he opened them again, his gaze locked with Brian’s for an instant and the Backstreet Boy nodded slightly. Peter smiled back; glad the singer had finally acknowledged his presence. With a questioning look, Brian pointed at the door and Peter nodded, standing up. AJ was still boasting about his victory, the crowd – mostly girls – hanging on every word he spoke. The boy had only been 21 for a month, but already seemed completely absorbed into the club-life.

Stepping outside into the cool night’s air, Peter shivered slightly. The club had been hot, smothery almost. Outside, the air was almost freezing and he took a deep breath of air, clearing his head. He heard Brian shut the door and turned around.

“Whooo, it’s cold!” he commented and watched the smaller man nod stiffly. Brian had wrapped his arms around himself, trying to preserve some of the warmth, the small puffs of smoke indicating how cold New Jersey really was that night. Watching him, Peter hurriedly shrugged off his jacket and handed it to his friend, who accepted gratefully.

“Thanks,” the singer muttered, his bony frame not quite fitting the large coat. His Canadian friend smiled sincerely.

“Come on,” he suggested and they began walking through the dark night. Although they had been friends for a long time, Peter had never really been alone with Brian. The younger man always had people around him, whether he wanted to or not. Involuntarily, Peter wondered what Seth would think if he saw them like this. Although they hadn’t spoken a word, just enjoying the fresh air, Peter still felt nervous. He’d known Brian for almost two years and had long since learnt not to pay attention to the big commotion a popstar life brought with it. But still, he had a hard time keeping the highly inappropriate thoughts at bay as they walked side by side.

Although Brian knew his friend was gay, he still trusted him. He’d told him that when Peter had eventually disclosed his secret. Why shouldn’t he trust him? Peter was in already in a relationship with Seth, what the hell did it matter?

Right.

Brian trusted him, felt safe around him. There was nothing Peter would ever think of doing to lose that trust. It was one of the things that was most important to him.

But still.

He couldn’t help but wonder if their friendship meant as much to Brian as it did to him. Would it really be so bad to… and what would Seth say about that? Despite the fact he wasn’t wearing a coat anymore, Peter felt himself overheating at the implications his mind was trying to make. He dared a look sideways, at the younger singer who only reached as high as his shoulder. God, the kid was so beautiful, so angelic, so miraculous, so… straight.

Damn him.

Everytime he thought about Leighanne, Peter’s blood began to boil. Sure, she was nice, attentive and very understanding. She also had everything Peter could never have.

Damn her too.

“This is nice,” Brian spoke up, snapping Peter out of his thoughts. “We should do this more often, just… walking around, you know.”

Peter nodded tightly, trying to hide his flushed face. “Y-yeah,” he stammered, “I guess.”

“Yeah,” Brian nodded, “Because everything is always so hectic, it wouldn’t hurt to just… calm down every now and then.”

Peter nodded too, watching Brian’s face intently. Oh God, how was he supposed to keep himself under control like this? How was this even fair? He bit his lip furiously, trying to keep the overflowing emotions at bay. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad? Maybe Brian wouldn’t mind? Maybe he could just… just for a second?

No. No. No. No.

Brian narrowed his eyes, watching him curiously, “Are you okay there?” he asked with a smile.

Peter grumbled a choked response. Brian’s smile grew wider and he shook his head and threw an arm around his friend.

“You are one weird dude sometimes, man!”

You have no idea.

When Peter didn’t move, Brian frowned, his smile faltering. “We should probably head back, before AJ finds out we’re missing. Although I find that hard to believe, considering the amount of attention he plunged himself in.”

Peter clenched his jaw, staring hard at the smaller man.

Just for a second. He closed his eyes in an attempt to compose himself, hearing Brian scuffling next to him.

“Pete?”

He sounded worried, caring… loving? Everything that left Brian’s mouth sounded like a melody, like a song, even if he wasn’t singing. Peter loved that. Peter hated the temptation that voice held with every single word it brought forth though.

“Pete, what’s wrong?”

Brian’s lips were tinted blue slightly from the cold, but Peter didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about the coldness of the singer’s cheeks, or the sharp intake of his breath, not even the smothered shriek that escaped Brian’s mouth as Peter roughly planted his lips on his in the cold winter’s night.

January 23rd 2006

I can walk in my dreams. I can move, I can talk, I can make connections. I can run, I can scream, I can die over and over again.

It’s something.

It somehow still feels unnatural to open my eyes. Like, every time I do, God is thinking; what do you think you’re doing; go back to sleep! I’m so tired all the time and I always want to go back to sleep the minute I wake up.

Except for when he’s there.

I watch the blond boy intently, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he brushes the blue crayons over the paper with great effort. His mother is lying next to me, fast asleep, probably exhausted.

His mother. My wife. My son.

I repeat the phrase a few times in my head, then nod confidently. This is my family, that’s right. They’ve told me so a few dozen times, I should remember. I can feel the woman’s breath tickling my neck and I smile. Half of the time my smile doesn’t work and when it doesn’t, I just smile in my thoughts. It’s close enough. The man at the end of the bed smiles now too, letting me know the smile worked this time. He’s blond, not very old, barely a man yet.

Nick.

I like Nick; he has a short name, easy to remember. He also barely leaves the room. I’m still not sure if he’s family or not, but I do know he’s close to me. He gives me a sad smile. I can see the pity in his eyes, I can feel it radiating off of him. It makes me sick, but I can’t tell him to stop it. It’s like a TV show, a very boring, uninteresting TV show that you can’t turn off. And I’m just a viewer.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!” the kid suddenly shoves his piece of paper in front of my face, waving it around to make sure I see it, “Is Donald Duck! Nick drew Donald Duck, and me gots to color it!” He watches me with hopeful eyes, then turns to Nick, questioningly. “Donald Duck, right?”

Nick nods, barely containing his laughter and I smile too, or at least, I hope I do.

“’s Good, Bay.” The words leave my mouth before I know it and I notice Nick watching me with wide eyes, the smile slowly spreading into a full grin. He leans in, patting my arm approvingly.

“See, I knew you were still somewhere in there!” He declares.

Gee, thanks.

Baylee seems fairly satisfied with the compliments and takes a big black crayon, covering the duck’s face completely. Nick’s eyebrows shoot up in shock.

“Donald ain’t black, dude!” he comments and laughs. I laugh too. Yet another accomplishment in the life of Brian Littrell.

Baylee just shrugs, turning back to his drawing, contemplating his next move. Nick watches him with a mixture of horror and amusement. “Don’t you dare giving him a green beak, young man!” he comments, smirking.

Baylee narrows his eyes and stares back at Nick, a sly grin slowly appearing on his lips as he reaches for the green crayon. His eyes never leave Nick’s as he puts the crayon to the paper, defiantly stroking it across Donald’s mouth.

“No! What did I tell you!” Nick exclaims and the little boy giggles, doubling over in laughter next to me.

Today is a good day. Today is progress day.

When he’s finally finished, Baylee unceremoniously drops the drawing on my stomach before hopping off the bed.

“Hungry,” he announces.

I watch Nick get up with a sigh, taking Baylee’s hand as he leads him out of the room. “We’ll be back in a second, okay? Get some sleep.”

I only blink, suddenly feeling drained. Slowly, I turn my head towards my wife, who hasn’t moved since I woke up.

The room is silent now, and I kind of like it that way.

Too much noise is confusing. My eyelids grow heavier as I watch her, softly resting my cheek against her forehead. I close my eyes and slowly doze off…



I jerk awake with a shock as the door opens suddenly and another man steps in. I feel my wife stir beside me as well. I glare at the guy. Can’t we get a minute of rest here? He gives me an apologetic smile, quietly sneaking over to the chair Nick left earlier.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you guys,” the man speaks softly.

“’s okay, Howie,” my wife mutters, stretching stiffly. She winces as she sits up from the uncomfortable position in the bed, looking around in confusion. “Where’s Baylee?”

“Nick,” I grunt and both Howie and my wife look up in surprise.

“What?”

I just shrug, having forgotten where they’d gone. Howie stares at me for a few more seconds and then turns his attention towards my wife. “They’re gonna discharge him soon,” he speaks and I frown. I hate it when they talk about me as if I’m not in the room. Especially Howie does this. Maybe he thinks I can’t hear him, or understand him.

Maybe he’s just an asshole.

My wife nods absently, frowning slightly at the black and green Donald Duck picture, then shaking her head with a smile, “I know,” she replies, not looking up. “Tell me you didn’t make this,” she addresses me and I shake my head.

“Thank God,” she laughs.

“Leighanne, I’m serious,” Howie presses, “We need to consider the possibilities.”

“I know,” she says again, then turns to me again, “We’re finally going to get you out of this damn, room, what you say?”

I raise my eyebrows slightly, considering this. “Home?” I ask hopefully.

The blond woman sighs almost inaudibly, but because she’s still just inches away from me, I can hear it clearly. She hesitates before she answers, “Yeah… sort of.”

She and Howie exchange a look I can’t decipher. Sort of… sounds fine. Their conversation continues, but I soon lose interest. Closing my eyes again, I listen to only the soft hum of their voices, feeling myself float away.

“We didn’t even have to think about this if that dick hadn’t…”

I snap my eyes open at the mention. I don’t remember much from a life before this room. Only freeze frame pictures of memories that don’t carry any meaning. I don’t recall many names; and have to rely on my intuition to remember faces. I stare back at Howie with wide-open eyes and he worriedly lays a hand on my arm.

“Hey, you okay?” he questions. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment and then nod slowly. His hand leaves my arm.

“Brian? Can I ask you something?” Howie asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Howie…” My wife tone sounds warningly, as if she already senses what he’s going to ask. I feel her stare boring into the side of my head, but keep focusing on Howie as I nod slowly again.

“Do you… do you remember anything from… from what happened?” he stammers quietly.

“Damn you, Howard!” my wife explodes next to me, but I just keep staring blankly at Howie, shrugging eventually.

“Just… just tell me this,” Howie speaks, before taking a deep breath, “Was it Peter?”

“Damn it! We’re not supposed to ask him those questions! You know that!” My wife exclaims beside me, but I can barely hear her. Unwanted images flood my mind and I grab my head, wincing. It’s getting increasingly harder to breathe and I can faintly feel hands on my arms, on my chest. My head feels like it’s ready to explode in a matter of seconds. The flashing images are blurry at best, making me dizzy as they speed past my line of vision.

There’s only one thing I can clearly make out. A bright colored collection of pills and bottles.

The room has entirely disappeared and suddenly I’m alone in another room. The pills lined up on the headboard of the bed make an inviting impression. I look down at the glass in my hands, frowning. Do it for them…

I swallow thickly, watching my hand move on its own accord as it pushes the glass into my arm. I try to scream.

This is not a good day.

23.

January 23rd 2006

“Brian? Can I ask you something?” I try to ignore the heated stare Leighanne is giving me as I watch Brian blink at me.

“Howie…” she warns, fear lacing through her voice. I swallow nervously, but feel a pang of anticipation as Brian slowly nods.

“Do you… do you remember anything from… from what happened?” I ask, tripping over my words as I speak them out as fast as I can.

“Damn you, Howard!” she explodes, but neither me nor Brian pay attention to her. I see him shrug slightly and I sigh, disappointed. My next step is something I will regret the rest of my life.

“Just… just tell me this,” I say, licking my lips as I take a deep breath, “Was it Peter?”

“Damn it! We’re not supposed to ask him those questions!

You know that!” Leighanne exclaims, frustrated. I keep ignoring her, frozen in shock. I cannot explain what happens next. With an agonized scream, Brian grabs his head, his chest heaving as he gasps for air. Leighanne hovers over him, screams his name to get him to focus, but it doesn’t work. Not in the slightest.

I only know the extent of my mistake when Brian’s entire body stiffens, rigid as a wooden board. He lets out a smothered groan as his back arches. I watch his eyes roll back and know exactly what’s coming next.

“No!” I yell, “no, no, no, don’t do this!” Finally springing into action, I grab his hand, hoping there’s still some way of stopping the imminent disaster. A painful expression crosses over his face, and he squeezes my hand almost to a pulp as he starts thrashing in earnest on the bed.

“Fuck!” Screaming, I try to wrench my hand out of his grip, but he’s too strong. I can feel the bones snap inside my hand and a white hot pain travels up and down my entire arm. It hurts like a bitch, but I guess that’s what I get for doing something so completely stupid.

Leighanne doesn’t pay attention to my predicament, as she tries to get through to her husband. The convulsions don’t lessen and I know one of us needs to get a doctor, but honestly, I can’t leave, having Brian crushing my right hand, and Leighanne would rather throw him in front of the lions than to leave him alone with me right now.

“What’s…?” In the chaos, I haven’t heard Nick coming in and he stares in utter shock at the scene we’ve got ourselves engaged in.

Nick, you’re right on time.

“Nick! Thank God!” I exclaim in a haze of pain and fear, “Go call a nurse! Or… or a doctor! Or both!”

Resolutely, Nick spins on his heels and sets out running across the hallways. This is all my fault, I realize that, and in a way, the pain in my crushed hand feels entirely justified. “Brian,” I call out, “Brian, can you hear me?”

It’s useless, I know that. I try not to think of how this could turn out as a major setback in his recovery and bite my lip until I draw blood. I barely notice it, as a nurse appears right beside me. “You need to move, sir!” She says urgently.

“I can’t!” I shriek, “He’s breaking my hand!”

She frowns, but doesn’t say anything else about it. “How long has he been like this?”

“I don’t know!” I snarl, having a hard time keeping the tears of pain out of my eyes.

“About three minutes, almost four!” Leighanne adds, glaring two holes into my forehead. She doesn’t say anything, but I know what she’s thinking. It’s the same thing I’m thinking. I watch with wide eyes as the nurse takes out a syringe, plunging it into Brian’s arm without much further ado. Only two seconds later, Brian’s grip goes limp and I jerk my hand back, hugging it to my chest.

“What was that?” I question, astonished.

“Muscle relaxer,” the dark-skinned nurse grumbles. “It doesn’t mean the seizure is over, but it does keep him from mutilating your hand further. Now if you will excuse me, we need to help him now.”

It doesn’t take long before she and another nurse has ushered us out of the room and I’m left with a fuming Leighanne and a clueless Nick Carter. After a few seconds of silence, he has figured out Leighanne is staring furiously at me though.

“Howie,” He comments slowly, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t gonna…” I stammer, looking from Nick to Leighanne and back, “Come one, you know I didn’t…”

Leighanne seems too angry to get a word past her lips and Nick’s eyes grow wide in shock. “What did you do?” He questions again, a little more urgent this time.

“I didn’t think it could hurt, I didn’t think he’d be like this!” I’m panicking now.

“Damn it, Howard, I’m not asking again!” Nick roars and I actually take a step back, shocked by his tone. I’ve never heard him so authoritative, so God damn angry. He sounds like my father.

I hang my head, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whisper, looking at Leighanne with helpless eyes, silently pleading for her forgiveness.

“I want you to leave,” she finally speaks, her voice unwavering, her eyes cold.

“No, please,” I stammer, “please, I just needed to know. I didn’t think this would happen. I didn’t think…”

“No, Howie. You didn’t think!” she growls, and I’m actually scared of her.

“I can… we could…”

“You’ve done enough,” she mutters, “Just… please… just leave. I know you mean well, I know you’re only trying to find out what happened, but please… I don’t want you near him again.”

I nod in understanding, knowing she has every right to send me away. They had told us that seizures wouldn’t be uncommon in patients like Brian. That he’d probably have some sort of epilepsy for the rest of his life.

But that didn’t mean we had to go and trigger it.

Aimlessly, I wander through the hospital’s halls. My hand is throbbing in earnest, letting me know it’s definitely broken. Somehow, I don’t think I deserve to get it fixed.

But I know what I have to do now. Brian’s reaction to Peter’s name was all that I needed. I’m sure of it now.

And I will find the bastard that did this to my friend, and to us. I’ll make him pay.

January 24th 2006

I jerk my head back up, pressing my palms into my eyes as I try to stay awake. It’s of no use though and with a sigh, I lean my elbow on the edge of the bed, planting my chin on my hand and closing my eyes. I try to remember the time when our lives had been fast paced as hell, flying from continent to continent in a matter of days and being dragged from hotels to busses to arenas to airports with no time at all to stand still by what we were doing.

That seems ages ago.

I squirm in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. Stupid hospital chairs. Cheap freaking plastic.

Would it be such a big investment to buy some comfortable seats, considering people need to spend a majority of their time in it? Giving up on trying to ease the ache in my back, I let my thoughts wander from hospital chairs, to terrifying seizures, to Howard Dorough, to little blond kids that can’t sit still, to black Donald Ducks, to…

I wake up with a shock when I hear a sharp intake of breath. Squinting my eyes in the brightly lit room, I carefully take in Brian’s face. His eyes are wide-open for the first time in sixteen hours and dart frantically about the room in naked fear. His erratic breathing suggests that no, he did not have the sweetest of dreams.

“You okay?” I quip, which is a very stupid question to ask in a hospital. I don’t really care about that as I launch myself out of my uncomfortable chair. Without thinking, I grab his arms, forcing his eyes on me. I conveniently assume he’d only have bone-crushing strength when he’s seizing. His eyes are glazed over and unfocused, like he’s still sleeping, and I frown deeply.

“Brian? Brian, can you hear me?” I ask helplessly. He starts writhing beneath me, clearly uncomfortable, but no sound passes from his mouth. Steeling myself for a second, I squeeze his arms tightly, looking directly into his eyes with a hopefully stern expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” I say, my voice unwavering, “Listen, it’s okay, it was just a dream.”

I don’t seem to get through to him all that much. His movements get more violent by the second, and for a split second, I think he’s going to have another seizure. I’m not going to let that happen though.

“Brian. Brian, look at me, keep your eyes on me, alright?” I speak slowly, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Am I speaking another language or something? Instead of doing as I said, Brian squeezes his eyes shut, wildly shaking his head. A fear-filled moan escapes his lips as he trashes in the bed, completely freaking out now. I haven’t seen him with this much energy since… well, I really don’t remember. I look around in confusion, when suddenly; a bright moment of clarity hits me. In a flash, I remove my hands from his arms, staring at them in shock and guilt. The scars have only just healed and are still clearly visible, but that’s not the problem.

“Oh my God,” I whimper, “Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Finally freed, Brian scrambles away from me clumsily, to the other edge of the bed. He watches me with wide eyes, like a dog does when you’ve just reprimanded it. His eyes never leave me when I take a few hesitant steps back, faltering slightly. I spend the majority of yesterday evening being pissed at Howie for making Brian freak out that badly, but haven’t I just done the same?

Whatever did or didn’t happen in that hotel more than two months ago, it left Brian heavily traumatized, no matter how little he actually remembers from it. And apparently touching his arms was a big no-go.

Duly noted.

“Look, I didn’t… I didn’t wanna hurt you… I just… I won’t touch you again, alright?” I stammer in a pathetic attempt to explain myself, as I slowly stagger back to the door, “I’m just gonna… I’m very sorry.”

I feel my fingers touch the handle as my back connects with the door. Brian haunting stare bores right through me. He still seems scared out of his mind and a stab of guilt travels through my stomach. I turn around, finally breaking eye contact and fumble with the door-handle.

“Don’ leave,” I hear behind me and I whirl around, astonished. His voice didn’t sound like it is supposed to for someone his age. He sounded young, childish almost. He still watches me with big eyes, but he doesn’t look like he’s afraid of me anymore. He looks like he needs a hug.

Setting out to fulfil that mission, I resolutely march to the bed. He doesn’t move at first as my long arms envelope him into a tight embrace. He doesn’t try to break free or to return the hug. He just sits there, limply leaning against me. My promise to not touch him again is long forgotten between the two of us. People used to think the two of us were gay, because we used to hug all the time.

And for some odd reason I’m sure he remembers that when I finally feel his arms return the embrace.

We sit there for a while, neither of us moving or saying a word. Something happens in that long moment. I’m not entirely sure what it is exactly, or what caused it, but something’s changed. Something makes the immense walls around Brian crumble down and turn the empty shell of a man, into a frail, terrified little boy. I can’t do much of anything but pull him closer, feeling his shoulders start to shake as he desperately clings to my shirt for support.

We’ve all broken down at some point in our career, maybe even before it as well. We might have felt embarrassed about it afterwards; after all, a guy crying in front of other guys is embarrassing as hell.

This was so much different than all those times though. I can hear, almost feel the agony pouring out of my friend.

His raw sobs are loud, animalistic, and although I’m only a bystander at best, they tear through my very soul. I feel my own tears sliding down as I hold him tightly, not letting go even if the room was burning down around us.

I don’t care how much Howie’s question earlier has made him remember, and frankly, I don’t think I really care about what happened anymore. I only care about the bastard that did this to him. The giant son-of-a-bitch that tried to kill my friend, and has been successful at that for a major part. I used to feel bad for Peter. I used to think it was my fault that Brian kicked him out. But I don’t anymore. The only thing I know for sure is, that whatever he did to Brian, was terrible, horrifying in every sense of the word.

I hope Howie finds him, and I hope I get to destroy his life, like he destroyed ours.

January 28th 2006

“So let me get this clear,” she says, looking at me as if I have to be kidding, “You want me to risk my ass doing research on a random person, but don’t want me to know the reason?”

“Pretty much,” I mutter, keeping a straight face.

She scoffs, clearly amused, “Damn… you celebrities really do need to get off that pedestals of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re just always like, ‘Oh, normal, ordinary mortal, we need your help, but…no no no, you can’t know what it’s about! The world will come to an end if you do!’”

“You do seem to forget you’re a reporter,” I counter, not impressed.

“It’s just a job, Dorough, it’s not what I am. Besides, I’m not really a reporter, more like a… hacker. But that doesn’t sound as cool.”

“Wait, so you’re not a reporter?” I ask, a little bemused.

“No,” she sulks, “I just search stuff out for the reporters.”

I can’t help but laugh and she throws me an accusing stare. I look back at her with a bright smile as I slowly sip my coffee. I don’t know what gave me the idea to call Carry exactly, but I’m glad I did. She’s like a fresh wind, clearing my head. It’s, yeah, refreshing. And although I have no intention on laying out any details for her, it feels good to have an outsider look at the matter for a change. It’s, well… refreshing.

“Don’t laugh at me! I get paid, isn’t that what everything is about?” she exclaims and my face turns serious.

“Not so loud! You want the whole diner to hear us?” I ask, looking around fearfully. The diner had been exceptionally quiet, which was probably why I chose this to meet with her in the first place. She rolled her eyes.

“They don’t care,” she murmurs, “So tell me more about this Peter guy.”

I shrug, “There’s not much to tell, I mean, that’s why I need the info.”

“Come on, you must know something! Where else am I gonna start looking for him?”

In the blink of an eye, she has pulled out a laptop of her bag, watching me expectantly. I hesitate, feeling Brian’s phone getting heavier in the pocket of my jeans. I had ever so sneaky stole it out of Harold’s possession, who would clearly kill me if he knew. Despite my desperate apologies, I have no intention of giving up on my search.

I feel my hand throb dully as a reminder of my mistake.

Leighanne had been very serious when she told me not to come near her husband again. So I hadn’t, I didn’t deserve to either. AJ and Nick kept me updated on changes. Well, they pretend to anyway. A few days ago I’d seen Nick with this haunted look in his eyes, but he wouldn’t tell me for the life of him what was going on. Of course my worry only grew. So sitting here in this empty diner with Carry feels… well… refreshing.

“P-Peter Robins,” I stammer, looking at her.

“Jesus Christ, Dorough, do you know how many Peter Robins’ there are on this planet?” She gives me an exasperated sigh, lowering the top half of her computer to get a better look at me.

“No,” I answer truthfully, shaking my head for emphasis. I feel so stupid for not knowing things sometimes. “But he’s Canadian, and really, really tall.”

“Right, like that’s gonna get us somewhere,” she sighs sarcastically. Just for my benefit, she starts typing.

“Well, there are like fifty Peter Robins’ on Google alone.”

I get up slowly, walking around the booth and planting myself next to her. Staring at the computer screen, I narrow my eyes, trying to see if I can make out anything familiar. Right, like you’d plant your face on Google if you were into killing people. I remember AJ telling me that there was no Canadian Peter Robins in any criminal database, so that one went out of the window as well. We desperately needed more information than just ‘tall’, ‘Canadian’, and “douche-bag.”

“He was a little older than me,” I mumble slowly, digging into the furthest parts of my memory for any slip of info about the bastard. “From ’72, I think.”

Obediently, Carry placed the year into the search-bar. Not much happened. “Well, it was worth the shot,” she says softly, “Does he have a middle name, or anything?”

I shrug hopelessly, looking down into my coffee cup. “I dunno…” I mutter eventually.

“What’s so important about him anyway,” she wonders out loud, knowing I won’t give her an exact answer. “Does he have to do with that suicide attempt?”

“It wasn’t suicide!” I snarl before knowing what I’m saying. Her eyebrows shoot up a mile in the air, before coming down in a frown.

“How do you know that?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

“F-forget what I said, just… just forget it, alright?” I say, clumsily stumbling out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” she snaps, grabbing my arm.

“This was a mistake. I don’t want to get you involved in this mess. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

“I wouldn’t have taken your invitation if I wasn’t the least bit curious what it was about, I’ll admit that, but you can trust me. It’ll stay off the record. I’m not a reporter, remember?”

I hesitatingly sit back down, sighing wearily. “Well, I guess there isn’t any involving going on if we don’t get anywhere with this,” I say, pointing at the computer screen in annoyance.

Carry nods, sitting back as well. “Well…”

“Well?”

“What do we know about him?”

“He was a friend of Brian’s, like years ago,” I mumble, “I only remember he was like this, big friendly giant that would follow him around like a puppy. It was kinda creepy at some points.”

She nods, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” I tell her, “Nick says Brian ended the friendship with Peter at some point. We haven’t heard from him ever since.”

“How does that tie into everything?”

“Got me,” I shrug again, “I mean, it was almost seven years ago. It shouldn’t tie into anything. But it does, for some reason.”

“Can you please stop being so vague? Does this Peter dude have to do anything with what happened to Brian?”

“I have reason to believe he does,” I declare darkly, finally pulling out the phone that is still in my pocket.

“What’s that?”

“Brian’s phone,” I mumble, turning it over a few times in my hands. It’s battered and dented, hanging together only by the duct tape Harold wrapped around it. It was a God’s miracle the thing still works. “There’s only outgoing messages though.”

“You do realize you’ve completely lost me at this point, right?” she says uncertainly.

“It was an accident,” I mutter, reading the message over and over like I’ve done for the past three days. It’s like another code, another note to decipher, like the note with the numbers, only this time, it’s completely not making sense. At all. Peter was Brian’s friend. A very close one.

Why would he do anything to hurt him? Unless….

It was an accident.

I gulp, looking up in a flash. If it was an accident, that would explain why he hasn’t shown up anywhere yet. Maybe he’s hiding somewhere. In shame. Guilt perhaps. If so, we should be able to find him. But why… why would it be an outgoing message? That didn’t make sense. But it was something.

“So, you’re a hacker, right?” I asked and she rolled her eyes.

“I prefer you not called me that. Hacker sounds so… so illegal.” As to prove her point, she hastily whips her head around to see if anyone has heard us. “I also have a real job, you know. Officially, I’m a photographer.”

“That’s great,” I mutter, “But can you hack into the Westminster Hotel?”

She gives me a look, “You don’t really listen to anything I say, do you?”

I shrug, “Only the important stuff.”

Carry nods theatrically, and then starts to type frantically on the computer. I wait patiently. I have no idea how people do these things, but she seems like she knows what she’s doing. In record speed she opens windows, unravels passwords and types in commands that don’t make any sense to me.

“So what you wanna know?” her voice suddenly states and I blink, realizing she’s stopped typing and is now looking at me. Unbelievable. It took her only ten minutes.

Westminster might have to look into a new security system.

“Was there…” I swallow as my throat suddenly went dry, “Was there a Peter Robins checked in around November 14th?”

“Let’s find out.”

It takes another five minutes, but then Carry turns towards me with an disappointed look, “There’s not even one Peter Robins in the data around that time. Can I ask you something?”

“S-sure,” I answer uncertainly.

“When did they break up?”

I give her an annoyed stare, “They were just friends.”

“You know what I mean.”

“About seven years ago, according to Nick.”

“Do you know why?”

“No,” I frown, “In 1999 we had all bunches of friends, I wasn’t going to bother finding out why Brian stopped hanging around with one of them.”

“Fair enough,” she admits, “But doesn’t it seem weird? Him breaking up with one of his friends all of a sudden, with no explanation, and you guys never seeing the guy again?”

“If you put it like that…” I sigh, “But it was none of our business.”

“I bet you wish it had been now.”

I stare at her for a moment. She’s right. But that doesn’t change anything. “It’s been a long time ago,” I answer weakly.

“And nobody knows what happened,” she concludes. Suddenly, her hands are typing again. We’re back at Google, and I exasperatedly roll my eyes. What does she think is going to come of this?

“What if,” she starts, her hands unstoppable and her eyes glued to the screen, “Something happened in ’99? You guys were big back then right?”

Were. The word stings, but I don’t comment. With growing confusion I watch her dismiss a number of sites, all the while she keeps talking. “If anything major happened between them, we would have known. It would have been in the papers everywhere. So it must be something else. Something hidden.”

“We don’t even know if anything happened,” I counter skeptically.

“Come on, you said he followed Brian around like a puppy. No way they just broke up.”

“Again, they were just friends.”

“Does this look like anything you’re looking for?” She questions suddenly, turning the screen so I can see it as well.

Suddenly, there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the stuffy diner. I turn towards Carry with a panicked look.

She frowns in concern.

“You okay? Is it him?”

I can’t seem to get a word out of my throat, staring at the site on the laptop. It’s a news article, a small one, from 1999. It’s not front-page, it’s not anything worth mentioning at all, if you didn’t know what it was about.

It was a missing person report, created by a Seth Mackles.

Peter Caleb Robins, Dark hair, tall (6’5’), strong build.

26 years old. Missing since February 16th 1999. Last seen in Livingston, New Jersey. If you’ve seen this man, or know anything about his whereabouts, please contact Seth Mackles.

I frown deeply, my eyes glued to the picture of a black-haired Canadian. Unmistakably the Peter Robins we’re looking for. And unmistakably the Peter Robins that has apparently been missing since 1999.

February 4th 2006

She stole a quick glance into the rearview mirror and sighed in relief. Finally, Baylee had busied himself with something else than asking if they were there yet. She watched him play the handheld game furiously. Nick had given it to the boy a few weeks ago. She hadn’t been really charmed by that. Baylee was spoilt enough already, but Nick claimed you could never be spoilt enough for Mario.

There was surely a sense of logic missing in that man.

She told herself to focus her attention on the bare highway again. New Jersey to Atlanta was a thirteen hour drive, and they were only halfway across. The day was passing into the evening and they desperately needed to stop and look for a place to spend the night somewhere.

She really didn’t want to do that.

Of course, they could spend the night in the car. She had done it a few times when she’d left high school, desperately looking for a job anywhere and everywhere. Of course, she’d been nineteen then and alone – well, sort of, if you didn’t count the one night stands from that period. Point was, she didn’t have a three year old and a sick husband with her then.

She carefully looked over at him. He was still sleeping like a log, just like he’d done for the past three hours.

He slept a lot and she assumed it was only for the best.

Up ‘til this point, no nightmares had appeared and she was glad for that. She’d been looking forward to the day she could finally take him home, and yeah, sure, the logistics and planning were a little wobbly, but that was only a side-matter. Her first idea was to take a plane towards Atlanta’s airport and get the journey over with in two short hours. Then she had thought of all the people that would stare at them in awe and pity and she had quickly dismissed the whole idea. Admitted, normally, she’d be a sucker for attention. This wasn’t normally though.

Kevin and Harold had helped strapping them in that morning, both unusually excited about the road-trip. Kevin had run around, worrying about every single detail, no matter how small. She smiled at that thought.

They were going home. They were finally going home.

Two months ago, she’d never thought that would be possible. But here they were, in the middle of the Godforsaken road, while she was left reading the vague route descriptions. Damn, she’d never been good at map-reading.

“Are we there yet?” A small voice drifted from the backseat. Leighanne sighed deeply.

“No.”

“How many more minutes?” Baylee asked sweetly.

“I’m not sure honey. Must be a lot.”

“But I need to pee!” The little boy whined, stomping his feet and wriggling his small body, to make his point clear.

“Shh, your daddy is sleeping,” Leighanne hissed softly.

“He’s always sleeping,” Baylee sulked, turning his face towards the window with a pouting expression. “And I have to pee.”

“We’ll stop as soon as possible. I can’t just pull off the highway,” his mother tried to explain. It was pretty hopeless. Try to explain to a three year old why he couldn’t have what he wanted, when he wanted it.

“And I’m hungry!” He exclaimed, an angry tone to his young voice now.

Worried, Leighanne turned her face to the passenger seat for a moment. Brian groaned and mumbled something unintelligible, pressing his face even further into the passenger door. He stayed perfectly asleep though. She smiled softly. She used to be slightly annoyed by his inability to lay still, even when he was sleeping, or the sporadic murmurs falling from his mouth. It made him a pretty challenging bed-partner, that much was for sure.

But now, after two months of deathly stillness and silence, she found herself amused seeing the old habits resurface.

“Mommy!” Baylee grabbed her attention again, feeling rather ignored. “I. Am. Hungry!”

“I know you are dear,” she smiled sweetly, “I tell you what. If you can behave until we get to a rest stop, maybe we can get you something nice.”

“Like ice-cream?” The boys eyes twinkled at the prospect.

“I think so.”

“When?”

“Another fifteen minutes, I guess,” Leighanne muttered, checking the road signs for gas-stations. It was another twenty miles to the next one.

“How long’s that?”

“You know, I’ll tell you when we get there, okay sweetie? Why don’t you continue with your video game and I’ll put on some music, what ya say?”

“Okay!”

“Okay.”

Taking a family road trip, what a good idea. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her eyes trained on the nearly empty road. The journey seemed endless. Why didn’t they just get on a plane? Who cared what people thought about them? It probably sure beat having a whining three year old and a sleeping thirty year old, who could wake up from a nightmare at any given moment, stuck in the car with her.

Owch!

Oh yeah, and an unborn son that just kicked against her bladder. Now she needed to pee as well. Thanks a lot Wailon.

They were quite a bunch of people.


Twelve minutes later she sighed in relief as she finally pulled the SUV in the parking spot of the gas station. She was a classy lady, not really all that charmed of fast food, but God, she was starving now. She reached down and squeezed Brian’s hand softly. Not his arm, never his arm.

Nick had told her bits and pieces of what had happened when he’d touched Brian’s arm, and she didn’t want a rerun of that show. Not in the middle of the high way with only a three year old as other company.

She slowly got out of the car, stretching her arms and legs and blinking against the winter sun. Baylee was already impatiently fumbling with the door handle. It was a child-proof lock, impossible to open from the inside and he stared furiously at her while she made no attempt to open it. Instead she watched her husband wearily. He’d be safest in the car, but she felt like a bad person for just leaving him there. She didn’t have much choice though. He couldn’t even walk and it wasn’t like he was Joe the Plumber if she wheeled him into the station. There would be people recognizing him, there always were, even though he didn’t look much like his old self. His hair was shorter and darker, and his face looked way older than it used to. He’d be fine on his own for five minutes, wouldn’t he?

Baylee decided to answer that question for her as he started to pound on the car’s window with a small, angry fist. She hastily opened the door for him and he jumped out, annoyed.

“Ice cream!” he demanded with a scowl.

“Don’t look at me like that, young man,” she told him sternly and his face softened.

“Please?”

“That’s more like it. What do you think, should we ask Daddy if he wants anything?”

Baylee turned to look at the car with an uncertain expression. Frowning deeply, he seemed to seriously consider the question before shaking his head. “Daddy sleeps.”

She nodded with a smile, taking his small hand into hers.

She’d get Brian some food, that was for sure. They’d worry later about how he’d be able to eat it.

The store was quite busy around dinnertime and for the moment, she was glad she decided to leave the Backstreet Boy in the car. Especially when Baylee started grasping people’s attention when he outright declared which ice-cream he wanted and made no hesitation in telling random bystanders how he’d earned said ice-cream. Leighanne did her best to stay inconspicuous, grabbing a few sodas out of the cooler without even looking what they contained.

She smiled, a little awkwardly perhaps, to the now interested lot that had gathered around the excited young boy.

He was a story teller, alright.

She kept smiling as she hurriedly grabbed his arm and gently guided him towards the registers. “Come on, babe, we need to get going.”

“But, ice-cream!”

“Yeah, I know,” she remembered, “Blueberry, right?”

He nodded frantically while she opened the fridge to collect the flavor. She held it in front of him so he could confirm her choice and he nodded excitedly again, clearly satisfied. “”s Daddy’s favourite too!”

“Yeah, I know, baby,” she murmured, finally able to join the checkout line. She hurriedly paid the cashier, who flashed her a warm smile.

“Feel free to come back anytime, dear,” she told her.

Leighanne nodded back. Not in a million years, she thought.

Finally outside again, she instantly noticed two things.

They’d been inside longer than she’d planned. It was darker now, the sun almost gone. They needed to find a hotel to sleep for the night.

And Brian woke up. They were about forty feet away, but she could clearly notice, even in the dark. Not because there was much change in his composure, neither did he make any noise or whatsoever. No, that was not the problem she was faced with.

There were people, about ten or twelve of them, gathered around the car, a majority of girls, naturally. They interestedly peeked inside, talking amongst themselves as if it were the most fascinating thing they’d ever seen.

Leighanne clenched her jaw, gripped Baylee’s small hand tight, before scooping him up, and resolutely walked over to the car.

27.

February 5th 2006

“I still can’t believe how that worked out yesterday!” She exclaims, laughing and smiling as she pats my knee.

Although I can’t quite remember why, I’m glad she’s so happy and flash an uncertain smile back. She keeps smiling the whole time she helps me and Baylee into the car. It takes a while, but finally, she climbs in herself, turning on the engine as she shakes her head, still clearly amused.

“What was it you said?” She says between laughs, “’You must be mistaken?’ That’s classic!”

I narrow my eyes, slightly recalling the events of yesterday, letting the grin on my face grow wider. I remember the utter confusion when I’d woken up to find my wife and son gone, but a whole new bunch of women standing outside the car. They’d seemed frighteningly interested in me and the car, and I had slowly rolled down the window, ready to ask them what they were waiting for exactly.

They’d started asking me a million questions before I could get a word out. Confusing questions that didn’t make sense to me and that I didn’t have an answer to. I remember frowning, claiming that they were wrong, that I didn’t know anyone by that name they kept calling me.

They’d looked at me in shock, whispering among themselves. They’d just begun to back off when my wife showed up. They’d watched her approach with a flash of recognition in their eyes. Before they could make a move, Leighanne had climbed in and drove off.

“I bet they’re still pissed off,” She snickers, her twinkling eyes trained on the road stretched out in front of us, “I’m proud of you.”

She is proud of me because I pissed off eleven women. That’s great.

“We there yet?” I yawn.

“You sound like your son,” she answers, “Actually, you’re worse, cause we haven’t even been inside the car for ten minutes.”

I shrug, glancing at my son in the backseat. He sat there with the same bored expression as I must be carrying. When Kevin frantically announced that we were going home yesterday, I hadn’t expected it to take this long.

Although it felt better than being stuck in a hospital room, being stuck inside a car all day was getting old as well. I was only mildly excited about our return to the house. For Baylee and Leighanne, it meant home, something they were familiar with, somewhere they felt safe. For me, it didn’t carry much meaning and I didn’t know what to expect. It would just yet be another place I’d be held up at. I was useless. They’d put me in a room, tell me how their day had been and continue living. Or, that’s how I pictured it, at least.

Like a freaking cripple.I shudder at the thought. I didn’t like the prospect of being nothing but a burden to my family.

“You’ve grown quiet,” Leighanne notices, throwing me a concerned look. That was another thing I didn’t like. The way everyone would look at me when they thought something was wrong. This was how they looked at me the majority of time, actually. I was usually quiet, not knowing what to say, or not able to get the words out. Sentences didn’t usually contain more than four words, to avoid confusion.

Hell, even one worded conversation was difficult enough.

I didn’t understand how other people did it so effortlessly.

“’m sorry,” I mumble quietly.

“It’s okay,” she replies softly, “Hey, how about we play a little game, huh?” she says, suddenly excitedly. I notice Baylee’s head shooting upright at the suggestion.

“What?” he says in a high voice.

“We could count other car’s colors,” she suggests. I look outside for a second.

“No cars,” I shrug, motioning to the empty highway, and she frowns.

“Right,” she mumbles, “how about a letter game, instead?”

“Letter?” Baylee calls from the backseat.

“Yep, I’ll come up with a word, and the next person must think of a word that begins with the letter that my word ended with, how about that?”

I blink for a moment. “Don’t understand.”

“Come on, we used to do this all the time! Right, Bay honey?”

In the mirror, I watch Baylee nod frantically and clench my jaw. Why does my son know how to play a game when I don’t? I glare angrily out of the window, at the empty, endless road flashing by. A whole world outside with people that know how to play stupid word games, and they want to play it with me.

“Oh sweetie, it’s okay. It’s actually really easy,” my wife assures, laying a hand on my shoulder, “We’ll show you how to play, right, Baylee?”

The boy nodded again, impatiently waiting for his mother to start the game already. He was sitting upright, the video game long abandoned next to him on the seat.

“Alright, so when I say ‘Road’, Baylee, what do you say?”

“Turd!” Baylee exclaims happily, laughing hysterically.

“It actually ends with a ‘D’, Bay,” Leighanne sighs, “and what did I say about the dirty words?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s your turn, honey,” she addresses me quietly.

“Don’t want to,” I grumble, still staring out of the window. I see my wife’s shoulders slump and her smile faltering slightly out of the corner of my eye. She’s disappointed; I can see it in the way she looks at me.

“Okay…,” she hesitates, “What about a different game?”

“No,” I answer curtly.

She nods and returns her full attention towards the road again, her lips pressed into a thin line. Great.

Yet another woman I pissed off.

Baylee’s eyes flash from me to his mother, back to me and he frowns deeply. “You mad?” he asks in a tiny voice.

I sigh deeply, my gaze softening, “No, just tired.”

“You always tired,” he states, “You never play.” His pouting scowl burns into my back.

“’m sorry.”

“Baylee, leave him alone,” Leighanne comments sternly, “Go play your video game.”

“Boring!” He calls, but picks it up nonetheless, his surly gaze now directed at the game.

I should feel guilty, I should feel bad that I just ruined the entire mood inside the car. I don’t, not really, at least. I guess I just feel too sorry for myself. Laying my head against the passenger window, I close my eyes, wishing we could finally get out already.

“Just ten more minutes, guys,” Leighanne calls suddenly and I jerk upright with a snort. Amazed I watch how the endless highway roads have changed into busy city streets.

Leighanne expertly steers the car through the swerving lanes and I can tell she’s is fairly familiar with these roads. I carefully rub the sleep out of my eyes as I cast her a sideways glance.

“Where are we?”

“Atlanta, Georgia,’’ she answers with a smile, “Also translating to: Home.”

I raise my eyebrows as I look around. The city is huge and very busy in the early morning. It does look strangely familiar. I know I’ve been here before, but don’t really remember it. Like a déjà vu.

Just five minutes later, the busy streets have given way to a more quiet country road. The air smells fresh and the snow is higher here. Leighanne finally pulls up to a long, well maintained private road. I squint, eventually able to make out the house at the end of the road. My mouth drops in surprise.

It’s gigantic…

It’s not like I’ve lost complete track of who I was or what I used to do. I know the main deal. I’m just a little foggy on some of the details.

On a lot of the details, actually.

For example, this… I don’t even dare to call it a house, it sounds so… denigrating.

When Leighanne notices my amazement, she smiles warmly, “Yes, we live here. Well, when we’re not on the road, that is…”

I can only nod, still staring at the beautiful mansion. If I could ever have chosen a dream-house, this would be exactly it. Its white bricks seem to shine in the sunlight and the thatched roof gives it some kind of nostalgic feel.

I can already easily count out a couple of dozen windows and the clean looking drive-way has an inviting sense to it.

And better yet; it feels like home.

“Looks like Kev and Harry already made it,” Leighanne says, nodding towards the lonely, blue car parked at the end of the drive-way, behind the gate. “At least they were smart enough to take a plane.”

After we passed the gate, Leighanne parks the SUV behind the blue car, sighing deeply as she shuts off the engine.

“God, I missed this place.”

Before I can say anything, I see Kevin storm out of the front door, stomping towards our car. He looks angry.

“Can’t you call or something?” he snorts, after my wife rolled down the window. “We thought you’d arrive three hours ago!”

Leighanne stares at him, clearly not impressed. “You try making the schedule with these two in your car,” she grumbles, motioning to me and Baylee. “Of course we’re late!”

“You could have called!” Kevin repeats. Yes, he’s definitely angry.

“Whatever,” my wife mumbles. Kevin shakes his head with a sigh. Although he can come across rather intimidating, Leighanne seems immune to it.

“We were ready to call the police,” he mutters.

“Don’t be a drama queen,” Leighanne says as she finally opens the door, causing Kevin to jump back in surprise, “We’re here now, aren’t we? Besides, Wailon has been bugging me all day as well.” She steps out of the car and slams the door closed. I watch Kevin roll his eyes and shaking his head. After a moment his gaze finally locks with mine. A bright smile appears on his face and I frown, wondering what he’s expecting me to do.

“You get Baylee and go inside,” he calls to my wife, then looks back to me again, “I’ll get you inside, buddy.”

Like I’m a dog.

I know my legs are still pretty useless, but does he have to make it so obvious? With a couple of grunts and vicious glares I get myself settled in the wheelchair with as little help from Kevin as possible. Kevin’s enormous smirk doesn’t falter for a second and that gets even more on my nerves. He grips the handles of the chair tight and starts pushing me to the front door. I’m already starting to hate the chair with a vengeance.

“So, anything happen today that’s worth telling me about?” I hear him ask from behind me.

“Nope,” I reply curtly.

“Alright then,” he sighs.

“But pissed off eleven women yesterday,” I mumble, surprised by the number of words in one sentence.

Kevin doesn’t say anything for a few moments; I can tell he’s struggling to understand what I just said. It’s my time to smirk, glad I caught him off-guard. “H-How’d you do that?” he eventually asks.

I shrug, not really remembering, “Fairly easy, apparently.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t usually take much,” Kevin muses and I hear the smile in his voice. Mine grows bigger now too.

“Nope.”

He laughs, and I think I do to.

Maybe it’s not so bad to be back. Maybe it’ll get better.

February 11th 2006

“Well tough guy, let us see what you’re made off, come on!” Linda encourages and I watch Brian’s face twist in determination. Slowly, he shifts his weight from me, to his own legs and after a few moments, he manages to stand without support.

“Ha!” He exclaims triumphantly. At the same moment, he starts to sway slightly and I grip his shoulder, keeping him upright.

“Concentration, Brian,” Linda smiles, moving to stand in front of us, “We don’t have to get this done in just five seconds, you know that.”

He nods, staring sourly at my hand on his shoulder. I remove it quickly, holding it up in defense, “Right, right, you can do it alone, I know,” I mutter quietly, trying not to notice just how much his legs are shaking under the weight. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, his entire body tensing in concentration. I anxiously hover behind him.

We’re teaching Brian how to walk again, cause, you know, just a normal thing.

The seconds tick by; none of us moving, afraid that if we even breathe too hard, Brian’s legs will crumble from underneath him. We all know that he’s never managed to stay upright for this long and I’m almost too afraid to move.

“Alright,” Linda eventually says cautiously, holding her hands out in front of her, “Do you want to take it to the next level?”

“I’d love to,” I smirk.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Carter,” she growls back, but I see a faint smile underneath her façade anyway. She’s almost twice my age, but we’ve been flirting jokingly for three days now, just for the fun of it, it seems. My smile spreads wide across my face and I see Brian smirk as well, although his focus is still on the ground.

“Anyway, I need you to look at me now, Brian,” the physical therapist instructs and my bandmate finally lifts his gaze, the grin still on his face. He’s panting slightly, as if just standing costs more energy than he can manage. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, indicating for her to continue, “Okay, the most important thing here is balance, remember?”

He nods. He doesn’t say much during these sessions. He doesn’t say much in general either. I brace myself quickly as he attempts to take a step towards the therapist. His legs shake violently and I shoot myself forward. To my surprise, he manages to stay on his feet, carefully placing his foot next to the other.

“Ya did it!” I exclaim, no longer able to control my excitement. It takes everything I have not to throw my arms around him and dance in victory. He would not appreciate that.

“Think you can do another one?” Linda questions softly.

I watch my friend nod eagerly as he quickly takes another step towards her. He sways dangerously to the right, losing his balance, and before I know what I’m doing, I leap forward to catch him before he hits the floor.

Throwing his arm around my shoulder, I grunt as I lift us both up to our feet again. He’s really out of breath now, growling in frustration. I glance at Linda briefly, locking our gazes, we nod at each other.

“Okay tough guy,” she says, clapping her hands, “I think we’ve done enough walking for today.”

His entire weight is on me now, as I carefully lead us back towards the bed. I gently sit us down on it, noticing Brian’s gaze drop to the floor.

“You did great,” I assure him, softly patting his shoulder. “You’ll be running around in no time, you’ll see.”

“I second that,” Linda smiles, standing in front of us with her hands on her hips. She’s probably in her mid forties, recommended as one of the best physical therapists in the country. She has not disappointed so far. Although I know Brian would have liked to see himself walking almost two days after he started the therapy, I know Linda is doing all she can.

“I guess,” I hear my friend mutter to the ground.

“How about some muscle training now?” Linda continues with over-enthusiasm.

I try not to laugh at Brian’s expression. He’s clearly not in the mood for muscle training. I suppose Linda notices this too as she slowly walks closer to us.

“I want to do something a little different this time around,” she whispers, making it sound like a secret.

Neither me, nor Brian are impressed. “You!” she points at me, although she knows my name very well, she never calls it out loud, “I want you to sit opposite of him.”

I raise my eyebrows, mildly curious now. Slowly I get up, retrieving a plastic chair from one of the closets.

Planting myself on it, opposite of my friend, I stare up at Linda, expectantly.

“Where’s that table?” she mutters, looking around. “Ah!”

She runs to the other half of the room, dragging the heavy table along with her. “Back off,” she tells me and I push myself and the chair about three feet backwards.

Carefully, Linda sets the table in between me and Brian, grinning at the both of us. We stare back at her, not really understanding what she wants us to do. She sighs theatrically, bending over the table. “Do I have to explain everything?” she smiles.

Brian nods seriously, “Preferably, yes.”

I smile back at him, then look at the therapist again, “What do you want? Dinner?”

“Maybe another time,” she drawls, “No, I want you two to both put your right elbows on the table. You’re both right-handed, correct?”

“Left with golf,” Brian muses. I stare at him. Why does he remember that?

“That’s not important in this exercise,” Linda friendly informs him. He just shrugs.

“You want us to arm-wrestle,” I state, slowly turning my gaze to Linda.

“Yes.”

“That’s not fair,” I mumble, more to myself than to anyone else. Even before all this, I would usually win an arm-wrestle contest with Brian. How does she expect us to-
I stop thinking when I see the rueful glint in Brian’s eyes as he flashes me a malicious grin. I gulp slightly, staring back at him questioningly.

Of course.

If you make it a challenge, you can make him do anything. I’m both astonished and glad that the particular trait is still harvested in him. He’s always been highly competitive, and so have I. It makes us a fairly annoying couple. He looks at me challengingly, daring me to refuse the exercise.

I scoff softly, shifting my gaze to Linda in confusion.

“What do you…”

“I want no holding back from either of you,” she explain before I can finish my sentence, looking at me purposefully, “You don’t let the other win, and you do not give in. understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” I mutter.

“Alright, ready?” she asks, waiting for us to join hands.

I try not to look at the scars on his arm as Brian clenches his fist around my hand and I suddenly remember Howie’s broken hand.

Shit.

I guess he sees the uneasiness in my eyes, because his smile grows even wider as he impatiently waits for Linda to start the game.

“Go!”

His strength surprises me and within three seconds, my hand slams against the table. He studies me with narrowed eyes. “That was pathetic,” he comments.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t…” I stammer, then roll my eyes, “I call a rematch.”

“Fine.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Linda nod in satisfaction. This was what she intended all along. Well played, my dear, well played. Admitted, Brian doesn’t usually accomplish a lot during muscle training, but I suspect that his lack of progress has more psychological roots, instead of physical. And apparently, if you openly start challenging him, it triggers something that ultimately reminds me of the old Brian, the one that would win every little game, even if he had to cheat his way through it.

Especially if he had to cheat his way through it.

“You scared?” he hisses venomously.

“You wish!”

It’s on again, our hands wrap around each other again as our elbows connect to the table. Linda watches me sternly, clearly telling me not to let him win. For someone who hasn’t done anything but lying in bed for three months, his strength is rather fascinating. I push back against his palm. Despite Linda’s warning glare, I can’t get it in my heart to not let him win.

Until his grip suddenly slacks and his gaze shifts to something behind me. The sudden disappearance of resistance causes me to slam his hand against the table. I let go immediately, watching him in concern.

“Brian?” I try, unsure.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t react in any way and I slowly get up and turn around, trying to determine what it is he’s looking at. There’s nothing to see.

“Bri, you okay?” I question, noticing Linda inching closer as well.

Starting to freak out, I gently grab his shoulders, trying to get him to look at me. I have no idea what’s going on.

His haunting stare bores right through me and I’m not sure he’s even able to see me at all. He blinks with unfocused eyes, but doesn’t snap out of this trance-like state.

“What do we do?” I ask in a high voice, turning to Linda.

“We need him to calm down!” she comments urgently.

“What?” He seemed pretty calm to me. She’s probably right though, he looks like he’s ready to explode in a matter of seconds, the noticeable short breaths labored now and his eyes trained on something we can’t see.

“Trust me, you’re not gonna like what happens if we don’t get him out of this. He needs to calm down!”

“We don’t even know what caused it!” I counter, throwing my hands up in frustration. All the while Brian doesn’t move an inch, his whole body tensing with a fear I don’t understand.

“That’s not important right now! He might have a seizure if this goes on!” Linda snarls back, “Dim the lights!”

I jump up, quickly doing as she asks. The room is wrapped in long shadows now, and I can just make out the silhouettes of the other two. Linda has kneeled in front of Brian, softly speaking in words I can’t make out. I feel myself start to panic as I don’t notice any change in his posture. I don’t know what he’s looking at, or what he’s thinking, but by the looks of it, it scares the hell out of him.

As quick as it started, that’s how quick it ends. For a moment, everything is silent as we watch Brian jump in shock, instantly snapping out of his trance. “Shut up,” he mutters a few times and I frown, completely lost.

Helplessly, I watch him try to catch his breath, and I see that Linda doesn’t have a clue on what to do either.

Of course, the Brian I know wouldn’t be the Brian I know if he didn’t pretend like nothing was wrong. He stares back at me, challenging me to say anything about what had just happened. I keep my mouth closed, instead turning to Linda.

“I think therapy session’s over,” I state slowly.

Linda nods, still with a stunned expression on her face, “Y-yes, I’ll see you tomorrow, Brian. We’ll work on fine motor skills then.” She quickly turns, intending to leave the room.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” I quickly assure my friend, pretending to not see the annoyed roll of eyes. I set off in a jog, expertly weaving myself around the bedroom obstacles towards the door. I finally catch up with Linda just outside the door.

“What happened in there?” I demand.

“I’m not sure…” she hesitates.

“Come on, you work with coma-patients for Christ’s sake! He was completely out of it! What was that?” I question desperately.

“It’s not a regular type of thing for patients,” she counters. “You don’t see these things much.”

“But you have seen them?”

“There’s nothing I can do, really. You should be talking to his psychiatrist.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hiss a little too loud.

She back off a little, frowning. I immediately regret it.

I can get a little passionate lately about this.

“Means it’s not physical, Carter,” she explains softly. “I only have little scientific knowledge of psychology, but those were some pretty clear signs of PTSD.”

“You mean that thing soldiers get when they return from Iraq or something?” I ask, scoffing.

“Now you’re over-generalizing, but yes. If he’s been having nightmares and mood swings, he fits the pattern perfectly.”

I swallow thickly, nodding. It doesn’t help that the psycho therapy goes even worse than the physical one.



It might be time to give Howie a call.

29.

February 12th 2006

I rub my face tiredly and sigh in frustration. I would rather slam my head into my desk and bang it a few times. That would look weird and I’m sure Carry would think I’ve finally gone insane. The feeling that we’ve hit yet another dead end getting stronger as we’ve been searching for Seth Mackles for almost two weeks without any promising results. I can see it in the way Carry looks at me sometimes. She doesn’t know what we’re doing anymore, and neither do I. I suspect she’s only helping to humor me at this point.

“We should get some coffee,” she murmurs right next to me.

I jump in surprise, not having realized she’d come so close until now.

“Why are you still helping me?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Why are you asking?” She whispers, looking straight at me.

I swallow, “Well, it’s not like we’ve gotten anywhere for the past two weeks, so I was just wondering… you don’t even know me….”

“I know you are trying to help your friend. I find that… fascinating.”

I smile awkwardly, “Just… fascinating?”

“And brave… you are standing up for him when no one else would have. That’s honorable,” she whispers, getting closer with every word that leaves her lips.

“Maybe I’m just in denial,” I say slowly.

“You don’t believe that,” she smiles, her face now inches from mine, “You believe in a good cause, and as long as you keep believing that, it will stay good.”

I smile back at her, feeling my face getting warmer, “You really think I’m brave?” I drawl.

“The bravest,” she assures, before leaning forward, softly touching my lips with hers. I smile into the kiss. It had been a long time coming. The tension between the two of us had been getting stronger over the course of the week. She gently pushes against my chest, forcing me to lie down on the sofa. Our mouths stay connected as I let my hands wander over her back. Her kiss deepens and I moan softly, letting her do whatever she pleases on top of me. My head feels like it’s on fire, much like the rest of my body. A good kind of fire. The kind that…

Bzzz!

Don’t mind that, continue what you’re doing Dorough! I try to not feel distracted by the incessant buzzing of my phone on the table, but it has spoilt the moment for the both of us. Carry groans in annoyance against my mouth.

“Shouldn’t you get that?” she whispers.

“Not now, not ever,” I reply, grunting in dismay as Carry un-attaches herself from me.

“You should get that,” she says with an apologetic smile.

Disappointed, I watch her climbing off of me before she reaches for the coffee table in my apartment and hands me the phone.

“I don’t know who you are calling me at this hour, but I will find you, and I will kill you,” I bark into my cell phone.

“Am I interrupting something?” Nick mutters back and I roll my eyes. Leave it to Carter to spoil every single moment I’m about get romantic.

“What do you want Nick?” I sigh, staring at a now smiling Carry. She seems to find the moment very amusing, while I can only think about my lost chance at romance.

“I think you should come over,” Nick suggests and I raise my eyebrows.

“And I think Leighanne will kill me if I did,” I reply, not missing a beat. Why did Nick need me to go to Atlanta?

They seemed to fare fairly well without me. I didn’t even know why Nick was still there. Maybe he needed to focus on something else than what happened three months ago. Maybe we all needed to do that. But we couldn’t, and wouldn’t.

“Aww come on man, you’re not afraid of her, are you?”

“Well, no, but…” I hesitate. Of course I didn’t fear
Leighanne. I just don’t like the idea of invading people’s homes without their consent.

“She never killed anyone, if that makes you feel better.”

“Are you sure about that?” I ask with a smile.

“Dude…” Nick drawls, “I just… I need your help, alright?
We need your help.”

“What? Why?”

“I can’t… I just…” Nick stammers and I frown in confusion.

What could he possibly need my help for? The only thing I had ever really done in the matter was making things worse. Looking up, I meet Carry’s curious eyes. She had raises her eyebrows in question and I shrug as a response.

Disappointed, she returns her attention to her computer once again. No romance for me tonight. The moment is over.

“Nick, we’re kind of busy here, so if you could just spit it out, that would be wonderful,” I growl into the phone, a little harsher then I intended.

“I don’t feel like telling you over the phone,” Nick sighs, “You really should get here.”

“You think he’d remember?” I ask softly. I can’t help but staring at the cast around my hand. That was a day I still regret, a careless, harmful and maybe even selfish action at my part. It could have, and probably has, scarred us both for life. But when I think about it, there are so many worse things people can do to one another. I snort, curling my fingers around the solid plaster of the cast.

Peter is still as missing as he’s always been. Now it’s just… official.

“I don’t know what he remembers anymore,” Nick admits quietly, “That’s actually one of the reasons I need you to come over. To… confirm things during therapy. Not a lot of what he says makes sense, you know.”

I shake my head. Not a lot of what Nick just said made sense either.

February 17th 2006
“If anyone… asks me… what day it is… again… I’m gonna…” Brian growled as he jabbed his fork at the food on his plate with anything but precision.

“What? Murder your carrots?” Kevin supplied with a sly smirk. By now he was used to the time it took for Brian to finish a sentence. His cousin would say a few words, take a breath, think for a second, and then continue. Without a doubt, it took a lot of time and energy, but he seemed to get a handle on it as time went by. Kevin tried not to laugh as Brian threw him a death stare, while continuing to stab the orange vegetables furiously. He would get one on his fork eventually, but now that he was distracted, it would take a little while longer.

“Five times, Kev,” he snorted, “she asked… what day it was… five freaking times… in two hours… must think I’m retarded.”

“Nobody thinks you’re retarded, honey,” Leighanne submitted right on cue.

“I’m not,” Brian concluded harshly, effectively shutting down the casual conversation that had been floating around the table in a matter of seconds. Kevin and some others turned their attention to their own food, but not before he noticed the sad look on Leighanne’s face.

Kevin knew that she was trying to handle the situation the best she could, but it was getting increasingly more difficult as your husband’s impatience and frustration was growing stronger every day, you were noticeably very pregnant at the given moment, and you had to take care of a three-year old, energetic toddler on top of all things.

It’s why when he had told Kristin about the whole situation, she had immediately offered to help out with things. It had been a bit of a blessing for Leighanne, who now had more time to spend focusing on the unborn baby and getting some well deserved rest.

Leighanne and Kristin had never been the closest friends.

They didn’t hate each other, they just never really… got along. It was why Leighanne had felt a bit hesitant at first to accept the other woman’s help. Did she think she couldn’t handle things on her own here, she had asked.

Kevin knew about this, because Kristin never actually kept quiet. It was a women’s thing, he supposed, to just keep talking, while knowing you weren’t really listening. They often seemed perfectly fine with that, and just kept pouring the day’s events – most of which weren’t all that interesting- down upon you. Whether it was during dinner, at night in front of the TV, in the car, or just before going to sleep. They weren’t quiet. Ever. And gossip was their main and favorite topic.

Throughout the days, the two women had begun to trust each other more though. They had shared stories, and even a few laughs along the way. They had formed a team eventually.

So it was pretty obvious that Kristin immediately picked Leighanne’s side during dinner. She highly disapproved of the way Brian was treating his wife lately. Even if he didn’t really know what he was doing to her, it didn’t seem fair at all for Leighanne to just have to suck it up and deal with it. His complete lack of affection towards her might not be his fault, but it was still heartbreaking to see her sad, longing looks towards a man that barely even remembered his love for her. It would come back, Kristin had promised, it would take a while, but it would definitely come back. Their love had been strong, right?

It hadn’t been based on cheap standards such as sex or money, right? They even had a child, nearly two, together for Christ’s sake. No way a coma, caused by a dangerous overdose of drugs, could ruin such a kind of love, right?

Right.

There were days Kristin barely tolerated Brian’s lack of consideration for his wife. Or his angry mood swings. Or his endless negativism. At those moments, she reminded herself of the fact that he was Kevin’s cousin and that he had been through a lot. And surely, the PTSD that had now been diagnosed quite clearly didn’t help him much either.

Dear Lord, that boy had issues.

Kevin looked around after a few minutes of tense silence.

“So, I take it memory training didn’t go well today?”
“I’d say so,” Brian grumbled in response.

Kristin studied him intently for a few seconds. The discontentment was barely contained on his features and the repeatedly stabbing motions at his food were getting harsher and harsher. The light mood that had started dinner had been successfully turned in an unbearable tension, in which none of the people at the table dared saying one more word. They were probably worried a time bomb would go off. But Kristin couldn’t help it.

“So what day is it?” she asked, keeping her stern gaze directed at Brian. It didn’t usually take long for him to get pissed off, and considering he’d already had the mood of a grumpy old man, this time was no exception. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared back at Kristin.

“It’s Tuesday,” he hissed, his nostrils flaring as a warning for her to immediately drop the conversation.

The table went quiet for a few more minutes until Harold, who hadn’t said anything during the whole time they’d been eating, cleared his throat.

“Actually, it’s Wednesday,” he deadpanned, looking his brother straight in the eyes. Brian’s eyes got a little wider, and Kristin could distinctly detect a little bit of fear in them. Fear that he had been wrong about the day the entire time. It quickly vanished though as he slammed his fork down on his plate and clenched his hands into fists.

“No… it’s Tuesday… damnit!” he spat across the table at his brother. Harold didn’t even flinch at the raw, angry tone and just kept staring instead.

“Okay, okay,” Kevin said, rising slightly from his seat, “Calm down, you two. Harold, that was really uncalled for… Brian, yes it’s Tuesday, no need to curse. If we could all just continue dinner peacefully, that would be great.”

And because nobody ever really listened to Kevin, the stare-off between the two brothers continued. By now Harold had laid down his fork as well, glaring at his younger sibling. Brian clenched his jaw, breathing hard as he tried to contain the rage that was boiling inside him.

Actually, it had been boiling inside him for most of the week, but now that his brother had made such a dick move, it slowly got to a point he couldn’t hold back the fury that screamed for a way out.

Wednesday? Really? Ass...

“Screw you…” he hissed at Harold.

“No,” Harold shook his head, “Screw you.”

“Excuse me?” Brian asked, his voice shaking in anger.

“You know, you have single handedly ruined dinner for all of these people, all because of your God awful attitude.”

Breaking his gaze with Harold’s, Brian swiftly looked around the table. Most people instantly pretended to become particularly interested in their carrots and potatoes. After a moment, he stared back at his older brother again, challenging him to say another word to offend him.

Harold was on a roll now, “Kristin here,” he said, pointing at Kevin’s wife for emphasis, “she’s spent over an hour cooking this food so we could all enjoy it together, you know, as a family? And don’t get me started on your wife, man! I mean, she has taken care of your children and herself all week so you didn’t have to worry about it. Show some respect, dude. People are only trying to help you, you ungrateful idiot!”

“I don’t need their help!” Brian blasted, his hands shaking and with a wavering voice, “I don’t… need help.”

Harold scoffed sadly and shook his head, “You are so wrong, bro. I’m sick of your attitude.”

“Go to hell,” Brian growled slowly, his voice breaking. If only he could, he would have stood up, stalked over to Harold and punched him square in the nose. But all he could do was sit there and clench his fists in fury. It only fuelled his frustration even more. “You don’t know… what I’ve been through.”

“No,” Harold drawled, just as angry now, “No, I don’t. But that does not mean you get to sit around feeling sorry for yourself,” he said, slowly getting up. “Everyone’s life would be a hell of a lot easier if you could just cooperate with the people that are trying to help you, damnit. And if you don’t like the thought of needing help, you should have thought of that before you tried to kill yourself.”

It was like a bomb had went off. Like lightning had struck the middle of the dining table. Everyone stayed silent for what seemed like minutes, but was only about a dozen seconds. Harold instantly regretted what he said the moment he said it. It were the forbidden words. A truth apparently so harsh, so damaging that it was not allowed to be spoken aloud. Howie had tried to touch the subject before, and he had been exiled mercilessly for that. They couldn’t keep Brian in a safe bubble of blissful ignorance forever, of course, but going at it this way seemed a little brutal.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, looking around the table in desperation. People stared back at him with looks of shock and disapproval. He had gone too far, he knew that. The stress of the whole situation and the lack of support from his parents had gotten the best of him.

Yeah… that was probably it.

Brian’s face was unreadable, but a solid darkness had settled in his eyes. The sharp stab of anguished betrayal he saw there sent shivers through Harry’s spine. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. And why was the world so screwed up?

“I-I didn’t mean that, bro, I’m sorry,” he said softly, seeing Brian lift his gaze to meet his. His younger brother nodded, almost unnoticeably.

“’m sorry too,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze to his plate once again.

“Okay,” Kevin started, his voice faltering only slightly, “I think that was enough testosterone for one evening. The two of you can hug it out later, but now we need to clean up the table, cause the food’s long gone cold.”

Harry nodded, grateful for Kevin’s interruption. He stood up, starting to collect plates and carefully trying to ignore his brother’s gaze.

The rest of the evening followed in a heavy silence, for the most part. Kevin and Kristin had gone back to the place they rented nearby. Leighanne tried to watch TV, every now and then throwing a glance at Brian’s closed room. He’d locked himself in, shutting everyone out and had made it pretty clear that he wanted to be left alone.

He had downright refused the medication the nurse had brought a little later.

Because pills were even worse than touching his arms, Leighanne had begged the nurses that came by once a day to give him anything but pills. They had been nice enough to replace some of the drugs to liquid or powdered versions, but others just didn’t work that way. It was hell to force them on Brian, but he knew that they were necessary. They had been fairly successful at getting the most needed ones down his throat.

But it was hell.

She knocked on his door a little later, steeling herself as she closed her eyes. “Brian?”

There wasn’t an answer and that didn’t surprise her. He might have already gone to sleep, but she doubted that. He was probably just sulking there in the dark. She wished he would just let her in and stopped trying to shut out the entire world. She took a deep breath and knocked again, “Brian, you need to take them,” she said softly, trying not to let the tears sound through in her voice. Not like he would really care, but she found that she needed to stay strong, no matter what happened. “Just open the door, please.”

“Just go,” came the short answer and she took a shaky breath, resting her head against the dark wooden door. She nodded to herself, quietly shuffling away from his room.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, she was choking back the sobs that begun to overwhelm her. Tonight had been a terrible night. The week had been a terrible week.

She leaned heavily on the counter, angrily wiping at the tears on her cheeks. Grabbing a tray from under the sink, she began rummaging through the paper medical bag the nurse had casually left on the table. Without a second thought, she began crushing some of the pills with the back of a spoon. She tried to control her breathing, feeling the sobs closing up her throat as she vigorously wiped the now powdered set of pills and scattered them into a waiting glass of water. No way in hell was anyone going to be able to get solid pills into Brian tonight.

And although it tasted awful, she knew he’d prefer the water a hundred times more over the pills. Finally finished with her job, she watched the powder slowly dissolve into the water.

Biting her lip, she wondered for the first time ever since they had gotten home if Brian wasn’t getting worse, instead of better. Sure, he could talk full sentences now.
He could pick up things and hold them in his hands without shaking too much. He could even walk very small distances if he put his mind to it. But his frustration and anger were terrifying at points, and his inability to remember crucial details from their lives were unnerving to say the least. He knew they were his family, and that he had lived a dream life as a popstar a while back. But he only knew that because they had told him so. By now, Leighanne doubted that he would ever truly turn back into the man she’d loved so much.

She shook her head. She did not need to be thinking about that right now. She smiled slightly as she felt the baby kick against her belly. She remembered when it had been Baylee instead of Wailon in there. Those had been different times. She’d had lots of support and love then.

Sure, her parents were helping a great deal now too, and Kristin was really a blessing, as it turned out. But all that didn’t make up for her husband’s seemingly lack of interest. She placed a hand on her stomach, her smile growing brighter as Wailon gave another kick. This was her baby, another human being growing inside of her. And it was like he was trying to comfort her by letting her know he was there for her and the sobs quickly subsided.

What did any of the rest matter when you could have such a miracle?

With the dreamy smile still on her face she walked back to Brian’s room, placing the tray with the single glass of water on the ground just in front of the door. She contemplated if she should say anything and raised her hand to knock on the door when she suddenly stopped, her fist still in the air.

There was a sound from the other side of the door she thought she would never hear again. A sound so soothing, so relieving that it caused the dried tears to start streaming again. She closed her eyes, letting herself become one with the soft, somewhat muffled, acoustic melody of the guitar in the closed off room. The sound of his voice was enchanting and she felt feather light as the relief poured over her like a warm shower. She had no idea what he was singing and didn’t recognize the melody, but unlike his spoken words, his song didn’t seem to cost him much effort and there wasn’t a single unnecessary pause in the lyrics as the song continued.

Wailon kicked again and Leighanne gave a choked laugh through her tears. Softly, she slid down the door until she reached a sitting position. Leaning her head back against the wood, she closed her eyes again, her smile still present.

Wednesday was coming to an end.

31.

“… And, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Dean Corwell suggested quickly. But I already saw Brian looking back at him with a rather determined expression. I quickly shot Howie a look and immediately saw how he was trying to hide his excitement. I rolled my eyes. In the last few days, the feeling that Howie’s obsession had taken on dangerous proportions grew more and more.

This whole thing had been his idea, initially. I had laughed at him when he suggested it. No way Corwell would approve. He was a psychotherapist, not a mentalist, he’d said. But Howie had only needed about two hours to convince the therapist that it was actually a brilliant idea.

Damn, that guy talks smooth.

Somehow, I knew Brian would agree. After Harold’s brief, but firm outburst, he’d demanded answers from anyone and everyone. Of course, Howie was happy with the cooperation, but I wasn’t so sure. Knowing too much could prove dangerous.

“Howie?” I questioned, waiting for him to turn around before I continued, “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

Howie shrugged and followed me out of the room. I waited until he closed the door behind him before I exploded.
“What the hell are you thinking?” I said in a strained voice, throwing my arms up in the air.

Howard took a careful step back, but did not seem impressed, “I thought we’ve already discussed this,” he said.

“That was before I knew he was going to say yes!” I rushed.

“I already told you, this might be the only way that we can finally figure out what happened, you know, for once and for all. Doesn’t he deserve to know the truth? Don’t we all?”

“This is not about you, Howie!”

“The hell it’s not!” he suddenly yelled, and this time, I was the one that took a step back, “I’ve spent three months, three months, trying to get answers! I still don’t know a whole lot more than I did in the beginning.”

“It’s too dangerous. You know what happened last time!” I countered, suddenly wondering why I needed to be the responsible adult all of a sudden.

“Last time was a mistake. This is different, Nick. Don’t you just want to close this chapter? Don’t you want to know what happened? I know I do.”

I shook my head, “I just want him to be okay.”

“He’s not,” Howie hissed, “He remembers more than we know. More than he knows too. This could be the perfect way for him to come to terms with what happened.”

I clenched my jaw and looked away. I had a really bad feeling about this, though I couldn’t really determine why. Howie’s obsession made his motives quite questionable. It was almost like he lived for nothing more than knowing what happened that night in November. Maybe we should have stopped him when we could, but then… we would have never found out about Peter.

“I don’t know…” I mumbled.

“How do you think it was like for me?” he asked, inching just a bit closer, “I was the one who had to find him. Do you know what that’s like? What do you think it’s like finding lifeless friends on a bloodied carpet? I thought he was dead! Is it really that strange if I want to know why I had to go through that?”

It was silent for a good couple of moments and I could only hope that Brian and Dean Corwell couldn’t hear us through the closed door. And although this was a less sugarcoated version of the story, Howie had told Brian his point of view of that evening. Or rather, he’d let Brian read the notebook he’d kept with him for so many weeks. It might not have been objective at all points, but it did give him the main idea of what those weeks had been like.

He’d given the notebook back without a word and with a pale face. But, despite what I had expected, not much drama had happened after that.

Not much drama was happening now either. When we re-entered the room, Brian and Dean were still where we’d left them. They were engaging in a rather random, but heated discussion about the NBA. And although Brian often didn’t know what day it was, he did still know his stuff about basketball. I saw his face light up as he defended his plea about the latest match. Dean didn’t seem too impressed. I had to admit, I liked his style. He was much different than any other therapist I had encountered.

“So, you guys done peeing?” he questioned with a smile.

Howie nodded solemnly, “Yes sir.”

“Good,” Dean said, standing up slowly, “listen, I’ve discussed everything with Brian here, and he seems to be aware of the possible consequences. This might very well be a step in the right direction, but it can also become a disastrous failure. He knows that.”

I let my gaze wander to Brian’s for a second and saw him raise his eyebrows daringly. I wanted to tell him how irresponsible and reckless his choice was, but I didn’t.

Instead, I nodded.

“Alright,” Dean concluded, “We’ll start next week.”

March 5th 2006

“Okay, the most important thing of all things: concentration,” Dean instructed quietly. I held my breath.

The room was darkened and deadly quiet. I could barely make out Nick’s strained posture next to me. I knew how he thought about this whole ordeal and was not surprised that he refused to look at me right now. And to be honest, the more I thought about what we were doing, the more ridiculous it sounded to me too.

“So the first thing I need you to do, is think of a quiet, calm place, can you do that?” Dean said to the still man on the bed. Brian nodded solemnly, keeping his gaze trained on the ceiling. I pressed my nails into the leather back of the chair I was standing behind. I was very well aware of the fact that if something went wrong, I would become the one to blame.

Again.

“Can’t we just…” I started.

“Ssh,” Dean hushed, “We need him to concentrate.”

I nodded, mouthing the word ‘sorry’ to him. Dean returned his eyes to the bed, “Brian, do you have a location?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I want you to relax and focus intently on that place. Keep your eyes open, though.”

“Kay…”

“Alright, now just pretend you’re walking into that place.”

“I can’t walk.” Brian mumbled.

“Right now you can,” Dean assured him. “Remember, none of this is real, it’s all in your mind.”

Brian didn’t react and Dean waited a few seconds before he continued. “Now comes the tricky part. In order for this to work, we need you to fall asleep with the image of your chosen location in mind, understand?”

There was no answer and for a second I thought he’d already fallen asleep. I know I would have. But I can sleep anywhere.

“Brian?” the therapist questioned.

“I understand,” Brian muttered and I had to strain to even be able to hear it. I looked at Corwell and he nodded back at me. Apparently, whatever he was doing, it was working.

I could clearly see Brian’s struggle to keep his eyes open at this point. He was blinking rapidly up at the ceiling and didn’t seem to be aware of much around him.

“Okay, I’m going to count to ten and then you’re gonna close your eyes and fall asleep.”

I heard Nick sucking in his breath next to me. I curled my fingers a little tighter around the back of the chair, my knuckles instantly turning white as Dean slowly counted to ten. It worked like a charm: at the count of ten, Brian’s eyes fell closed and he didn’t move anymore. He looked a bit like he did two months ago and I shivered involuntarily at the thought.

“What just happened?” Nick asked in a high voice.

“Ssh!” Dean and I said simultaneously. After I jabbed Nick in the ribs, I looked at the therapist expectantly.

Dean took a deep, solemn breath and went to sit next to the bed, fairly close to where Brian lay. He bent forward and frowned, “Brian Littrell, can you hear me?”

My mouth dropped to the ground when I saw the sleeping man nod slightly. Nick and I looked at each other with wide eyes.

It worked. I can’t believe it worked.

I turned my gaze back to the bed and couldn’t help the grin that was slowly spreading across my face. Dean’s brow was furrowed in concentration, “Can you tell me where you are right now?”

“Beach…” Brian breathed, almost inaudibly.

“Was it the location you were thinking about?”

“Yes…”

“Okay, very good. Just try to describe the place for us, alright? We’d love to know.”

“’s Just a beach,” Brian slurred after a second, “’s warm, peaceful, calming…”

“That’s great, Brian. Are you alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, good. Very good. I need you to keep this place in the back of your mind, okay? And whenever you feel uncomfortable or panicked, I want you to return to this very location.”

“Okay…”

I looked at Nick, but saw the same question mark above his head as I know I must be having. I had to admit, I did not know anything about hypnotherapy before today. I had expected more finger snapping, more waving watches, even more suspense.

This was boring.

“Now I want you to concentrate very hard. I need you to go back in time. About four months ago, alright?”

I swallowed thickly when I saw Brian frown slightly and shake his head. “I don’ wanna…” he stated, his words slurring together drunkenly.

“It’s alright, nothing’s gonna happen, you’re safe.” Dean spoke even and slowly.

“’s Too dark.”

“Where? Where are you?”

“New Jersey. We have… a day off.”

I froze to my spot, barely feeling Nick’s hand slap against my arm. Dean turned at me for confirmation and I nodded stiffly. ‘Alright Brian,” the therapist continued, “What’s happening? And I need you to tell me the exact truth, okay?”

“They wanna see a movie.”

“You don’t?”

“No…” Brian moaned softly, squirming slightly on the bed.

“Relax Brian,” Dean waited for him to settle down before he went on, “Why don’t you want to see a movie?”

“’m Tired,” came the mumbled reply. “Wanna go back… to the beach.”

“In a minute, okay? Just tell me what’s going on.”

“m Going back to the hotel.”

“Westminster?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded again at Dean’s questioning look, confirming Brian’s story. I frowned at the way Brian was writhing on the bed now, clearly in distress. Nick must have noticed it too.

“Maybe we shouldn’t make him go further,” he suggested what we had been thinking all along.

Dean nodded, “That’s going to be another thing for another time. You don’t have to go in, Brian. I would like you to return to the beach now.”

“Okay,” he sounded relieved, almost grateful, even. He became perfectly still again, his breathing finally evening out. Dean waited for a minute before he cleared his throat.

“Where are you now?”

“Dunno,” Brian slurred heavily “It’s dark.”

“Is it the beach?” Dean suggested with a frown. His frown made me frown too. I looked at Nick, but he shrugged with an expression that told me he didn’t know what was going on as well.

“Dunno,” Brian mumbled again, “It’s cold.”

Cold and dark did not sound like a beach, I concluded. I know Dean had meant for him to return to the beach, but it hadn’t worked. I tried not to panic as I felt my heart hammer in my throat. I had suggested this. I had once again brought danger to my friend.

“What do you see?” Dean asked softly.

“City…” Brian replied, barely audible, “Think it’s night.”
Dean nodded, “What are you doing?”

“Walking.”

“Just walking?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know what date it is?”

It remained silent for a few long seconds before Brian answered, “February 16.”

“Do you know the year?” Dean asked urgently.

“That’s… stupid question.”

I smiled at Brian’s answer and felt myself relax a little bit again. Instead of going back to the beach, he’d gone to a dark city. What did it matter? He didn’t seem stressed about, so why should we be? Dean’s posture was still tense, however, and it worried me. After all, he did know more about this whole hypno stuff than we did.

“It’s not a stupid question, Brian.”

“It’s ’99, you idiot,” Brian replied, his voice louder than before.

I felt Nick’s eyes stare a whole into the side of my head, while I kept my gaze on Brian and Dean. What the hell was he doing in a cold city in ’99? Of all places he could choose, why would he go there?

“Are you alone?” Dean asks for the second time.

“No.”

“Who else is there?”

“Peter, he’s a… friend.” Brian’s face slightly turns into a frown. I can see he’s having trouble remembering Peter and his role in his life. But I don’t really care about that now. My heart beats so fast I think it’s trying to burst out of my chest. I can hardly breathe and I feel Nick’s hand grabbing my lower arm to steady me.

“What’s Peter doing?” Dean asks urgently. I’ve told him about Peter and what I think his share had been in this ordeal.

“He’s… we’re walking.” Brian said, a bit impatient, as if it wasn’t obvious yet.

“Is there anybody else around?”

“No… it’s just us.” Brian stated, “I told him… we should head back… to the club…”

“The club?”

Brian ignored him as he continued, “He’s acting weird…”

“What do you mean? How weird?” Dean sat up a little
straighter.

“He’s just… staring…” Brian rasps, his voice shaky.

“He’s…”

The sudden scream startled me and I swiftly look at Dean.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

He shook his head, grabbing a hold of Brian’s hand. The younger man was thrashing now, but it wasn’t a seizure. It looked more like a nightmare, like he was trapped and couldn’t wake up. “Brian?” Dean called, “Brian, can you
hear me?”

“No! Stop!” Brian screamed, yanking his hand free from Dean’s hold. His breathing was labored and he arched his back, kicking and screaming at someone we couldn’t see.

Somehow, I knew he was fighting Peter.

“Brian, I need you to wake up now.” Dean commanded evenly.

“Leave me alone!”

“I’m going to count to ten…”

“Get off me!”

“One…”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Three…”

“No!”

“Five…”

“It was an accident!”

“Seven…”

“Please!”

“Nine…”

“It was an accident!”

“Ten!”

After that day, things had suddenly gone really fast.

For all my struggling over the last few months, I had almost forgotten the key element; Brian himself. It was fairly debatable to presume that the hypnotherapy had done him much good, but at least it had helped his memory. He no longer gave that haunting empty stare whenever Peter was brought up. He no longer lashed out or snapped in the middle of a conversation.

Instead, he became more quite, more withdrawn. We didn’t see much of each other after those initial two weeks. Everyone went to their own place, picked up their own things. Except me. I couldn’t let go. Not ever. Whenever I did see Brian, it was like there was this weird tension between us. He knew pretty well that I was starving for information. It wasn’t like he hadn’t told me anything. It’s just that what he’d told me from what happened in the Westminster hotel didn’t really make sense. It could be that his memories were still terribly scrambled up.

Could be.

He’d confirmed what I’d already expected. That it had been Peter that had been stalking him for a few months prior to the bloody night in that hotel room. That it had been Peter that had grabbed him when he stepped out of the bus. That it had been Peter that had escorted him to the room and that had threatened him into taking the pills. That it had been Peter who had sliced open his arms and had left him for dead.

But when I asked about who Peter was and what he’d had to do with him, Brian grew silent and evasive. He’d said Peter had just shown up one day, apparently just released from prison for whatever reason. Brian didn’t go into detail about Peter’s supposed crime that had landed him in jail in the first place and I had begun to question his testimony right then. I had been able to read the fear and horror in his expression as he told me the story. I knew Brian believed it.

It just didn’t add up.

For one, AJ’s friend had said that there was no criminal record to be found on Peter Robins. How could that be if he had been in jail for seven years? The article Carry and I had found on the internet clearly stated the Peter had been missing for seven years instead.

And the biggest question of all: If Peter was the one that had tried to kill Brian, where was he now?

Wouldn’t he have come back now that it was clear that Brian was going to live?

I had been glad Brian trusted me enough to tell me the story. I advised him to go to the police. I don’t know if he did, but the conversation had done him good, even if it left me frustrated and with more questions. He seemed relieved and ready to move on. Soon, it was like nothing bad had ever happened. We even planned to go back into the studio to pick up recording again. We all were ready for the future and I had slowly begun to accept that there were certain questions that would probably never be answered.

Until that phone call.


April 17th 2006

I couldn’t help the grin from spreading across my face when I heard him belt out the long note like nobody’s business. It was like he felt he needed to overcompensate for the awkward way he moved or talked sometimes, or for the months that he thought we left wasted because of him.

Compared with his movements and speech, his song was almost flawless. Where I wouldn’t have believed we could ever be what we had been before five months ago, now there wasn’t any doubt on my mind. We would rise from the ashes; untouchable in the very sense of the word. The grin was still present on my lips as he slowly walked out of the cubicle, a confident smirk unmasked on his face. He turned his cocky smile to Nick and gave him a challenging stare, “Your turn,” he said as he dropped into a chair opposite of Nick. He still preferred short worded sentences over long ones. It was so different from the long, carefully constructed sentence forming I knew from the old Brian, I still had trouble getting used to it.

Nick jumped up with a lot of bravado and without saying anything, went into the recording booth. Within a few takes he had nailed his part and came out the door with nearly the same level of overconfidence as Brian had.

I smiled, fascinated by the way our old habits had returned. There was a silent contest going on on who could finish his parts fastest and best, just like all the times before. “At this rate, the album will be finished by the end of the week,” AJ said in an enthusiastic tone.

It did go a lot faster now that Kevin wasn’t there, but I figured it was best not to bring that up. I cleared my throat as a means of excusing myself when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pretended I didn’t see Nick rolling his eyes, quite aware of his annoyance with my constant attachment to my phone.

I opened my phone when I was outside of the studio and saw that I already had three missed calls from Carry.

We’d seen each other just yesterday, what the hell could be so important? With a frown, I dialed her back, impatiently drumming my fingers against the wall while I waited. She picked up at the fourth dial.

“Howard?”

“Yeah.”

“Finally! What have you been doing all day?”

“Recording... I told you yesterday, didn’t I?”

“Oh yeah,” she mumbled, followed by a long silence.

“What’s up?” I asked, slightly concerned now.

“Seth called,” she answered, successfully snapping back to the present.

“Seth?” I questioned dumbly.

“Seth Mackles. You know, from the article about Peter?”

“Oh yeah...” I mumbled on my turn. My first thought was that Carry was calling because she’d wanted to hook up.

We’d been dating for a few weeks now. I had honestly totally forgotten about Seth when we hadn’t been able to find his phone number after finding the article. And now he called us.

“Howie?” Carry said, confused.

“D-did you call him back?” I stammered softly, careful not to let the people in the room next to me hear what I was talking about.

“Of course not! I was waiting for what you would have to say,” Carry stated patiently.

I nodded, then realized that Carry couldn’t see me and cleared my throat, “I’ll be there in an hour, we’re almost done here anyway.”

“Alright,” she confirmed, but didn’t hang up. She stayed silent for a moment before asking, “Are you gonna tell Brian what we’re doing?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll see what Seth has to say first,” I said reluctantly. It was very unlikely I’d ever tell Brian about the way we went behind his back to get the still missing information on Peter and himself. I told myself that I didn’t want him to get worked up and stuck in the past over this, but the truth was that I didn’t want him to get in our way in the search of the truth. It wasn’t like I was going to do anything with the knowledge I could possibly acquire. I just wanted to know for the sake of knowing.

I wanted to put my mind at ease with a reason why I had found Brian half-dead in the middle of the night that day. And although everybody else did not seem to care about it anymore, I still had to know.