His Shame by Anastacia
Summary:

He lives in Hell. The hands that are suppose to carress him strike out in painful blows. A voice that is supposed to soothe his worries instead torments him daily. Someone who is supposed to love him unconditionally belittles him till he is nothing. He fears that death is inevitible, but is stuck in the continuing cycle of pain, anger, torment, and horror. A truly wicked monster haunts him. And it's his secret.





Categories: Fanfiction > Backstreet Boys Characters: Group, Nick
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Domestic Violence, Graphic Sexual Content, Graphic Violence, Sexual Content, Violence, Sexual Assault/Rape
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 8 Completed: No Word count: 21172 Read: 14108 Published: 03/13/07 Updated: 01/16/08

1. Chapter 1 by Anastacia

2. Chapter 2 by Anastacia

3. Chapter 3 by Anastacia

4. Chapter 4 by Anastacia

5. Chapter 5 by Anastacia

6. Chapter 6 by Anastacia

7. Chapter 7 by Anastacia

8. Chapter 8 by Anastacia

Chapter 1 by Anastacia
Author's Notes:
I would truly appreciate feedback on this story. It's a very controversial subject that I wanted to tackle. So, I need support. Please and thank you so much in advance.
His Shame


Chapter 1


Shame. It seemed like such a small, insignificant word when someone murmured it, but the implications behind the emotion were devastating. Never before had he experienced an emotion so powerful before. As if he were covered with a thick layer of black, sticky, rancid gunk that oozed with stench of utmost humiliation. The ache in his deadening heart was unimaginable, as if he were suffering a thousand deaths over. Miserable deaths. Hidden, disgracefull secrets that ate him alive in every spare moment, surrounding him in an overly dark depression. It was like a powerful life force was being sucked from a small incision into his emotional armor. The pressure of such a large emotion being pulled from such a small area was overpowering, causing him to sink to his knees in sheer desperation and pain. However, the wounds inflicted were anything but small.

Goddamn, was she a tiny thing! She barely met his chest. He always had to stoop down and heft her up to press a kiss to her lips. He always teased her that she could have barely weighed a hundred pounds, even when she was soaking wet. Who ever thought she could have so much power hidden in such a petite form? Much less behind a powerfull fist? That had stunned him. The way her fingers clenched into a tight ball of a fist before immediately striking out against the hollow of his jaw. No warning whatsoever. Falling to the thickly carpeted floor as an explosion of pain radiated through his jaw and down his spine, he couldn’t even fathom the possibility that she had hit him. Wet warmth poured from his split lip and the taste of metallic was unmistakable. It still didn’t seem possible. But when he saw the baseball bat coming down at him, he knew.

Holding his right arm up to brace against the blow, he released painful yelp as the bone gave way. The sound of splintering bone was like a gunshot echoing in his ears. Falling backward, his pained whines became muffled against his throat with a sharp gasp when the baseball bat was pressed against his windpipe. Constricting his airway, she descended upon him like a swarm of blood lusting locusts. Sharp claws shredding every inch of his body and furious pinpoint of painful explosions created an excruciating burn throughout his entire body. He could even feel his face start to swell. The lack of oxygen caused him to fidget like a newborn babe, but also rendered him helpless, the only sound escape was a few tight, wet gasps for air.

He thought he was going to die. He was certain of it. But the sound of his clothes ripping and giving way from his body had come as a frightful shock. There was a period of silence that followed till he felt her lips surround his flaccid member. Biting down hard on the soft flesh, she pressed the bat deeper into his throat when he started to squirm fearfully. Then began the furious rocking of her bare hips against his, attempting to work him into a frenzy. He tried all his might to fight her, but his body reacted violently to her demands. Being aroused while being raped... Perfect…

The reason? He had forgotten to call her and say ‘I love you’ after a late night interview, because he had simply been exhausted. He figured he could simply call her in the morning. And, like always, he had thought wrong.

“Mr. Smith.”

He blanked at the sound of the name, not recognizing it for what it was worth. He had already been ushered into an examination room and seen by a doctor, though that had merely been a haze of incomprehensible words. He remembered the prick of needle into his lip, but nothing else. Continuing to stare at his scuffed hands, he huddled on the side of the examination table. Bent over himself as if he were a cowering animal.

“Mr. Smith?”

Who the Hell was Mr. Smith?

“Mr. Carter?”

Looking up, Nick’s dark cobalt eyes focused and he immediately remembered the name he had scrawled onto the admission sheet of the Emergency Room. Mr. John Smith. It sounded inconspicuous enough and would cause no warning flags to arise in the system. No media. Numbly nodding his head in agreement with the second name, he was surprised to find a warm smile reciprocated.

“I thought you looked familiar,” the nurse confided, shutting the door to the examination room behind her. She clutched the metal chart to her chest as she stepped inside, a layer of various medical products resting upon it like some tray. Dumping them onto the bedside table, she held out her hand, but pulled back slightly when Nick flinched. “I’m Roxanne, your nurse. Roxie for short, if you like?”

“Hi,” he murmured softly, regretting the over exaggerated response to her friendliness. Forcing himself to sit upright, he became aware of the freezing cold that radiated up his right arm from the bucket of ice it had been submerged into. Frowning, he felt the pull of stitches in his lip. How the Hell would he explain this to the guys?

“Can I call you Nick?” Roxanne questioned, carefully pushing aside some of the ice packs to alleviate the obviously painful pressure exploding in his arm.

“Nick’s fine,” he promised, looking to his grossly swollen arm with a grimace. Hearing her soft coo of sympathy, he looked up to see her scribbling something in his chart. For a moment, he wondered what she was possibly writing about him, but when she glanced up from her notes, his thoughts stopped. Her warm aquamarine eyes reminded him of the deepest seas warmed by the bright sunrays; the perfect water to dive into from one of his prized boats. Her nose was small and rounded; one that he could see flushed red from the cold of a winter night in the northern-most part of the states. Her soft pink lips were lusciously full and coated with what he assumed was a fruity lip-gloss; the corners seemed to turn slightly upward as if she were always smiling. Her straight strawberry blonde locks were tied into a high ponytail for a long day of work and still managed to fall past her shoulders, but he could see small tendrils that curled when they fell from the rest, telling him a secret that she straight-ironed her hair. Her figure was rounded with soft, subtle curves that seemed to sweeten with each delicate movement of her body. She was tall, perhaps she’d reach the top of his shoulders if he stood, though he knew already that she’d fit perfectly, tucked underneath his chin. Looking to her left hand, he was amazed to find no ring staking its claim on her fourth digit. If it had been a few years ago, he would have been adamant in seeing that she take his number. But, now, he just sat there, dumbstruck.

“Is anyone here with you today, Nick?”

“Nah, came by myself.”

“Well… The doctor told me that he was in to see you. We’re going to get some X-Rays of that arm, though by the looks of it, I’m sure it’s broken. I’m also going to clean up the rest of your wounds, grab an ice pack, and be your buddy for the day,” she offered when he didn’t seem to want to speak anymore. He offered a small nod of compliance, watching her reach for a pair of gloves from a nearby box.

“Roxanne?” he suddenly called.

“Yeah?”

“Be my buddy?”

“The ER’s kind of slow today, so I offered to follow you through all the departments today. Looks like you need a friend.”

“I look that fucking pitiful?”

Roxanne laughed softly. “You’ve even got yourself a sense of humor.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, y’know,” Nick mumbled, leaning back slightly when she started to clean the deep scratches in his chest. He winced at the sting of the hydrogen peroxide and felt his stomach churn at the powerful aroma of cleaning supplies, but was more fearful of the woman touching him. The realization that he was scared of a woman sent another knife plunging into his decaying heart. What man, who was over six feet tall and solid muscle, was afraid of a damn woman?

But then he glanced at his reflection in the nearby mirror and realized why. The left side of his face was an array of dark coloring ranging from the darkest of blacks to blues and purples. The bruising then followed underneath his left eye and the swelling made it difficult to see. His bottom lip had been ripped open to the point of needing stitches to be closed. The front of his throat was marred with an unusually shaped bruise from the pressure of the bat. Then his chest was littered with bruises, oozing scratches, and bite marks. Thank God he had been allowed to keep his jeans on; he knew he’d be pissing blood for at least a week considering the damage.

“You seem like you’re in deep thought, Nick.”

“Yeah…”

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a fucking bus and then the driver reversed and tried it again.”

“What happened?”

“It was an accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“I fell down the stairs. Mostly hit on my left side.”

“Must be some pretty fucked up stairs,” Roxanne stated easily, causing Nick’s head to jerk up from his steady concentration on her work. When their eyes met, she offered a sympathetic glance. “Nick… There is no possible way that stairs could have done this kind of damage. You see, your face is bruised on the left side, but you have bruises to the front of your chest and your right arm is broken. These deep scratches down your chest are perfectly spaced. Seems to me someone hurt you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who hit you, Nick?”

My girlfriend,’ Nick thought, though he offered her a ridiculous glance, as if the very idea was illogical. “No one hit me.”

“I know the signs and symptoms of abuse.”

“I’m not abused.”

“Nick--”

No one hit me, okay? I was clumsy and I fell down some fucking stairs. It happens all the time,” Nick stressed with a growl. Like she could even begin to understand what had happened. She acted as if she knew him intimately. As if she could read his innermost secrets. But she couldn’t even begin to fathom the pain of his relationship nor the repercussions of speaking out.

“Men can be abused just as easily as woman can be abused. Abuse isn’t about size, gender, or strength; it’s about power and control. You shouldn’t be ashamed to report it,” Roxanne explained softly while disposing of the left over supplies she had used to bandage the most serious of wounds. After she finished washing her hands, she plucked a business card and pen from the back pocket of her scrub bottoms. Scrawling a phone number on the back, she handed it over to Nick.

“Look, I told you that--”

“It’s not some kind of abuse hotline. This is my personal business card. It has all the numbers where you can reach me. Call me when you need to talk. Day or night. No matter what the time. Just call when you’re ready to talk and get some help. I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 2 by Anastacia
Chapter 2


Shakily pushing the key into the lock system of his door, Nick used the utmost cautiousness when he entered his quiet home. After spending the entire night in the Emergency Room getting his injuries taken care of, he wasn’t sure of what to expect. This accident had escalated far beyond what either of them had probably anticipated. Usually, she would be waiting for him to return after the altercation. As always, she would be obnoxiously tapping the sharp point of her expensive, black, stiletto heel on the marble tile of his entryway; the sound to each connection of heel to marble vibrating through the tension-thick atmosphere and causing bursts of electricity to flow down his spine in warning. Her arms would be crossed haughtily across her chest; her olive eyes ominous as she spoke of his weaknesses and why this had been his fault. But instead he was greeted by the sharp whine of his beloved Pit-bull puppy, Layla, and the sound of her claws hurriedly scraping against the marble. Looking down in time to see her slide between his legs and out the door, he realized she had been doing her best to keep from dirtying the house. Knowing she would be awhile and inevitably scratch at the door to gain entry, he shut the door behind him and cast his keys into the nearby table.

The sober calmness that fell upon him after the clatter of the keys was harrowing, reminding him of the eerie calm before a devastating storm. So, slowly, he shuffled through the rooms of his house to enter the kitchen and retrieve a cold beer, hoping that she wasn’t lying in wait for the attack. The overly padded strap of the sling wrapped around his neck and shoulder annoyed him, but he hadn’t the strength to yank at it. Instead, he allowed his heavily plastered arm to hang in the sling and his other arm to dangle loosely at his side. Every inch of his body ached; from the single follicles of dirty blonde hair to the ends of his toenails. There wasn’t a portion of his body that didn’t twinge with the familiar ache of pain when he moved. So, tapping the cap off his bottle of beer and then doing the same to the small bottle of pain medication, he mixed the potent drugs in one long swallow. He hoped the mixture of poisons would dull most of the pain by allowing him to slip into a dreamless unconsciousness.

Not having the strength to move, he leaned against one of the marble counters in his kitchen, staring ahead blankly, not bothering to concentrate on one sole item. Though, in his periphery, he noticed the annoying repetition of a red light flashing on the answering machine. Stifling a pained moan, he weighed his options, to check his messages or just travel upstairs in the hope that he would slip away to darkness soon. He had already made his necessary excuses for the day, knowing there was no way that he could face any friends or family, not until most of the swelling had absorbed back into his system. It was too hard to think of excuses now. It had actually come to the point where he’d simply shrug his shoulders and murmur something about being a ‘fucking klutz.’ But not even the infamous Nick Carter could be that damn klutzy… So, avoiding his friends and family had become easier than facing the whispers, of course, it also appeased her jealous streak. But, not wanting her to find any potentially damning evidence on his answering machine, which she always made a point of checking, he leaned to hit the button.

The first message was from his younger brother, Aaron, and filled with the usual string of colorful profanities. Hey, Shithead! It’s your brother. You know, the one you blow off so you can get laid daily? What happened to the smelly-cunt-shitted saying about bro’s before ho’s? …Well, I just wanted to let you know that Melanie ain’t the only person in your fucking world. Later.

The second call was filled with the same playful hostility toward his lover, though it was no family member. Instead, it was AJ McLean, obviously irritated with his decision to bypass another recording session… If you keep canceling on us, we’re never going to get this album written, Asshole, and I’m broker than a twenty-five-cent hooker’s lopsided cunt! Stop fucking so much so your voice isn’t so damn raw! Then there was the familiar cackle that AJ loved to reciprocate in every performance so the women would scream wildly, which he always said reminded him of the best orgasmic experiences. Call me!

With two people obviously already perturbed with his recent streak of absenteeism, Nick took another hard swallow of liquor when Howie Dorough, another band-mate and friend occupied his machine with a message. Hey, Nicky, just thought I’d call to see what was happening in your life. Management called and…stuff like that… The way you disappear all the time, you’d think you and Melanie were off eloping… Thought I was supposed to be your best man? I figured it’d have to be some kind of perk since you torture me so much. There was a soft, debonair laugh that always caused women to coo in adoration over the older man. Anyway, Jo wants us to double soon Maybe we can go out to a formal dinner and then dancing in one of the private VIP sections of the local clubs? You know them better than I do… Give me a call so we can set this up.

Assuming that was the only messages that would be left for today, because Kevin Richardson, a former band-mate, had lost touch with him since his departure from the group and Brian Littrell was caught up in his patriarchal duties, Nick pushed himself away from the counter. But, the soft, baritone voice startled him - Nick, it’s your Dad. Just got a phone call from your brother, you’d think he would learn how not to swear in front of his father, huh? Kids… Well, haven’t heard from you in awhile so I thought I’d give you a call. You should see your baby brother nowadays, seems like he was just crawling a few days ago, now he’s running away from me... Listens to your songs all the time… Ginger and I are always saying you should come stay with us for a vacation. When you get the time…. I miss you, Son…

“Miss you too, Dad,” Nick whispered when the answering machine promised that all messages had been erased. Draining the rest of the beverage from the bottom of the bottle, he was sure to allow Layla inside as she scratched furiously at the back door. Sliding onto the marble, she used a back paw to furiously scratch at one of her ears while hassling happily. Whistling for her attention, she immediately went racing from the room to climb the stairs to the bedroom, knowing that Nick would cuddle her for a nap.

After all, she was the only family member that he had consistent contact with; every other loving relationship he had kindled over the years had been poisoned when he began dating her. She was so demanding of his attention and possessive of his time that he was unable to spend time with friends and family. And, it had gotten so hard to explain the bruises, scratches, and cuts. So, his family and friends simply assumed that he was a blatant asshole who could care less about their lives, though it seemed absurd in his mind. But, he couldn’t really blame them, because he had never bothered to give them an explanation as to his disappearances. Like they would have taken him seriously anyways…

Gingerly sliding the jeans away from his aching hips, he was sure to keep his boxers on, not wanting to see the damage she had done to his painfully pulsating manhood. Instead, he noticed the small business card sticking out of his back pocket. Lowering himself onto the bed, he shifted cautiously while guarding the most damaged portions of his body so he could retrieve the card. Embossed on the front was the full name of the woman – Roxanne N. Doherty. Following her name were several initials that he had no hope of ever discerning unless he researched them intensely on Wikipedia.

But that wasn’t his main concern. Instead, while he intensely studied the plain card with Layla laid at his side, Nick instantly conjured a picture of the beautiful nurse that had spent the entire night with him. She wasn’t the typical beauty that he was used to seeing on a daily basis. She was natural. No make-up touched her face expect for a tube of her favorite lip-gloss, yet still radiated. And he was quite sure that her shift had ended somewhere in the middle of his treatment, but she had stayed nonetheless. She had been so kind and easygoing, joking with him to elicit the smallest of smiles when the pain had been at its worst. He had never felt so comfortable in the presence of a woman before…

Turning the card over, he noted that she had scribbled her private phone number upon the back. She had been so concerned about his well being in the Emergency Room. And it hadn’t been the false type of sincerity. No. Her deep aquamarine eyes had been glossed with a worry that he had never seen before. Almost as if she wished to shed tears over his injuries, evoked with a deep sympathy for his plight. She actually cared. Reaching for his cellular phone, he had every intention of calling her, but was startled when the phone started to vibrate. Looking to see his lover’s name displayed on the LCD screen, he hurriedly stood to hide the business card within his room, terrified that she was approaching and would find the evidence.

“What are you doing?” she demanded without any means of a warm greeting when he fumbled to place his phone on speaker.

“Just got home,” he muttered impassively, not having the strength to muster an emotional response when he collapsed back onto his bed, the business card safely tucked away.

“From where?”

“The hospital...”

She released a grunt of what seemed like true annoyance before speaking, “Things like this wouldn’t happen if you didn’t upset me so much, Nick.”

“I know, Mel, I’m sorry.”

“Why do you make me so mad at you? It’s like you try to do this shit on purpose, knowing that I’ll react.”

“I don’t know why, I’m just sorry.”

“Good.”

“…What are you up to?”

“You know I love you, right?” she responded instead, completely avoiding his question.

“I love you, too.”

“I’ll visit you tomorrow with a get-well present, okay?”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Get some rest, Baby, and make sure you call me tonight.”

“I will,” Nick hurriedly promised, knowing that he would never make that mistake again.

*~*~*


Opening the door to her small apartment in the center of the Los Angeles bustle, Roxanne was quick to slip inside and shut the door behind her, though it did little to drown out the sounds of the early morning commute. Blaring horns, screeching tires, heated arguments, and dogs viciously barking to create the usual sounds of the lively city – typical of a Monday morning during rush hour. Dropping her bag off to the side of the door as if that was its designated place, she groped for the nearby light switch and then went through her daily process after a long night of working in the nearby Emergency Room. Securing the door chain first, she then went down through the series of deadbolts that kept her safety; five in total. Once she was assured that she would be safe for the day, she toed off her sneakers and began to strip away the layers of clothing on her way to the bedroom. Each layer filled with the sweat of a hard night’s work. When the only stitch of clothing clinging to her slender form was her light blue, boy-cut panties, she entered her bedroom to retrieve a baggy t-shirt from the nearby drawer. Pulling it on and avoiding the reflection in the mirror, a soft mew caught her attention.

“Hello, my favorite Jinx,” Roxanne cooed with the usual loving warmth to the ball of midnight black fur curled in the center of her unmade bed. Watching the feline uncurl and flop onto her back for the usual belly rubs, Roxanne grinned and crawled over the bed to sprawl out beside her favorite creature. Tangling her fingers within the soft fur, Roxanne actually joined in with her beloved cat’s purrs. Her fur was a thick, dark midnight black, the only splash of color to the feline was her glowing amber eyes; she was the stereotypical version of a witch’s familiar, so the name Jinx suited her well. Not to mention perhaps enhanced her mischievous personality. “I hope you’re not too rested to lay down with me, Jinxie. I had a rough night.”

Jinx purred lavishly at the rubs and dutiful attention that Roxanne delivered to her stomach and answered the woman’s question by rolling away. Stretching the entire length of her long body in a slow elongation, she sauntered up to the top of the bed. Looking to her owner as she fluffed the pillow with her claws, she finally curled on Roxanne’s favorite pillow to nap, seeming to beckon her over for company.

“I’ll be joining you shortly,” Roxanne promised, rolling to the side of her bed to glance briefly at the answering machine. Sure enough, there was no warning flash of unheard messages, just as she suspected. Not many people had her home telephone number. She had given her nurse manager the number to her cellular phone should she ever need reached. It was a precaution that she took, not to say that she was a recluse. When she worked, she was very amiable and a favorite co-worker amongst the staff, but she never invited them into her personal life. Mixing business with pleasure would only cause needless trouble and she had just gotten herself out of that mess a few years ago. She felt safer when she was alone. Comfortable. Calm. Collected. Protected.

And today she had needed that safety barrier, especially after taking care of Mr. Nick Carter. Well, pardon her; it had been Mr. John Smith. At least that what he wanted to be called, though she thought his acting skills could use some work. It hadn’t taken much to recognize him, not when his picture was plastered on a gigantic billboard across the street of the hospital, promoting his new reality show. Most of the star-struck society of Los Angeles would have been agog with the handsome blue-eyed blonde, but, he had been a patient, so she treated him as if he were just that.

Though...

He had been the first person she had given her home phone number to, hoping that he would call. Seeing the angry markings on his flesh reminded her all too well of her family’s demise and she recognized so much of herself within him. His utmost refusal to admit that there was a problem, almost defiant in a callous nature that would offend others. But, she knew better than to let him push her away. She could see inside his heart. All the emotions that glistened through his cobalt eyes electrifying the worries that she had in the past. The anger at allowing someone to purposely hurt her. The shame of being so foolish to stay in the abusive relationship. The fear of the unknown. The depression that accompanied the raw physical pain—

Sighing heavily when Jinx yowled in annoyance at her lateness in their snuggle-date, Roxanne pulled herself from the damning thoughts and worked to fix the tangled comforter in hopes to slip beneath them. Though, halfway through the smoothing, she crawled into the bed, knowing that when she awoke, the comforter would be tangled once more with her bare feet uncovered. Shifting in the bed till she was laying on her stomach with her hands tucked underneath the three pillows that she insisted cradle her head and Jinx’s paws daintily pressed to her forehead, she closed her eyes. Willing to forget for at least a few hours that the world was truly an ugly and dangerous place, she was forced awake once more by the jarring sound of the phone ringing.

Wincing when Jinx’s claws dug into her forehead, she pulled an arm free and fought to find the source of annoyance with her eyes closed. When several things toppled from her clattered nightstand, she cursed openly and forced herself into a seated position. Yanking the phone from its base, she felt a slight thrill accelerate the pace of her heart, thinking that perhaps Nick was calling. It was her only hope when she brought the phone to her ear and cleared her throat. “Hello?”

“Roxanne Doherty?” a monotone voice questioned.

“Yes, this is she.”

“I have a collect call from the Rockview State Penitentiary, would you accept the charges--”

“No,” Roxanne interrupted, disconnecting before his name could even be mentioned. Throwing the phone across the room into the pile of dirty clothing, she shuddered with disgust. It seemed as if she wouldn’t be resting that morning.
Chapter 3 by Anastacia
Chapter 3


A few days, intensive ice pack therapy, a serious course of heavy painkillers, and hours of unconsciousness had provided Nick with the ability to trudge to the studio to continue working on an album. But not the passion. Sure, he sang the lyrics provided to him in the pitches and keys and harmonies that his band-mates assigned, but there was no spark of infatuation behind his beautiful voice to draw the audience into the romance. He hadn’t even written a single lyric for the entire album, seemingly voiceless in what he once considered an inspired world. When he felt so dead inside, there was no chance in rekindling the affair with the music that had made him famous. So, there he sat in the lounge area during their break, broken arm resting upon the arm of the couch, and head leaned back with his eyes closed, hoping for silence.

“So… Can I just shoot this proverbial elephant in the ass? ‘Cause it’s damn near crushing me and stepping on my enormous dick--”

“AJ,” Howie instantly interrupted with a disappointed chiding, causing Nick to force his eyes open. Per usual, the three members of the band were standing around him, staring at him as if he were some sort of bizarre exhibit. They made mental notes of all his injuries and cross-referenced those to previous injuries he had sustained. If they had any sense at all, they would realize that the wounds were getting worse as the relationship continued. But no one dared to make that connection. Not when she was so perfect and pristine. Instead, they looked toward Nick for a source to the damage done to his body, looking to fault him. Of course, it was his fault…

“He looks like fucking shit, D,” AJ maintained with a sharp scowl, deciding that he was the most knowledgeable about Nick’s path of destruction. “Like he handed the biggest, maddest, baldest mother-fucker with a flaming case of painful, bleeding hemorrhoids in the bar the nastiest barbed wire bat and told him to go buck wild!”

“You can be such an asshole, J,” Brian muttered, suddenly uncomfortable with the entire ordeal as he rooted in the ice bin for a soda. Each soda he found in the icy depths he made sure to release, searching deeper for another as if there were a golden can at the bottom. Ever since he had become involved with Leighanne, married her, and started a family; Brian had pulled away from Nick. He acted as if Nick’s friendship was just like the furniture Leighanne had disapproved of – easily disposable.

“…What happened this time, Nicky?” Howie inquired, his voice soft with an understanding that Nick knew he’d never have should the truth be revealed. Moving to sit beside Nick, he pressed a gentle hand to the younger man’s thigh, oblivious to the pained wince that resulted. Instead, he took Nick’s offhandedness as a sign of hostility and released a hard sigh. Things had been quite difficult for the quartet since Kevin had left. “We just care about you, Nicky--”

“I know, D,” Nick promised, already able to quote the entire intervention that they hoped to stir as if it were salvation. Much like Kevin had done with AJ when drugs and alcohol had consumed him. That was one of the reasons that Howie had stepped forward in the recent weeks, thinking that Kevin’s abandonment of the group had instilled Nick’s violent streak of self-harm.

“So, what’s the excuse?” AJ bluntly demanded. “How’d you fuck yourself up this time?”

“I don’t remember,” Nick murmured.

“You know when you can’t remember what the fuck happened, it might be time to stop drinking.”

Of course, Nick thought, let them assume that he was an alcoholic mess. It was easier to understand that than the truth. Who could honestly believe that his girlfriend had brutally beaten him and he couldn’t find the strength to leave her, too fearful of the repercussions? So he stayed with her, hoping that the next attack wouldn’t leave him in a small, wooden box with mourners standing at his gravesite. Of course, she played well to that of the unassuming assailant, especially when she breezed into the room with a thick bouquet of expensive dark red roses clutched against her chest. As always, she was a picture of perfection. Her short, fiery red curls coiled into perfect ringlets as they kissed the length of her face, electrifying the sleek radiance of her fabulous bone structure. Her olive eyes were always warm and inviting to any man within a close radius. She was innocently charming considering the splash of freckles over her nose and cheeks, small stature, and sweet figure, but loved to be quite the smoldering siren. Which made sense, given her career choice of modeling.

“The only significant other who ever bothers to visit us!” AJ immediately announced with joyous welcome when he heard her sultry voice. “How are you, Babe?”

“Perfect now that I’m with all my favorite boys,” Melanie Hart purred with appreciation, shifting the bouquet into one hand so she could embrace AJ. Even in her heels she had to pop onto the very tips of her toes to press a kiss to AJ’s cheek, though her lusciously painted red lips landed at the corner of his mouth. The sensuality of her kiss actually caused AJ to clear his throat with an uncomfortable chuckle. But, that’s how she was. An insatiable minx. “Though, I don’t want to bother you in the middle of all this exciting work. I just wanted to see how my Nicky was doing and bring him a special gift.”

“That’s sweet of you, Mel,” Howie approved with a smile, though he noticed Nick’s hesitation on moving to meet her. Instead, she moved toward him and collapsed onto his lap with a soft thump, discarding the bouquet easily. Recognizing the pained expression flooding Nick’s face, Howie sighed heavily, assuming the young man had done something in his drunken stupor to offend his lover. “Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He can’t seem to understand how he hurt himself this time…”

“He’s just a clumsy fool,” Melanie crooned, leaning over Nick to brush her fingers across his unmarred cheek. Smiling when she shifted once more over his lap, knowing she had inflicted pain, she caught his swollen and torn bottom lip into her mouth for a tender bite. “He’s fallen head over heels in love with me. Haven’t you, Nicky?”

“Head over heels,” Nick promised softly, pulling away when he experienced the warm metallic taste of blood. He could also recall the way he tripped over her feet when she jutted out a foot. How he stumbled down the stairs when her hands shoved hard into his back. The way he curled into a fetal position when the spiked back of her heels angrily poked into his flesh. Oh, yes, he had fallen head over heels for her…

*~*~*


Somehow Melanie’s brief visit to the recording studio had turned into an extended stay. Waiting with the producers outside the recording booth, she watched him perform the songs that were intended to melt the hearts of his fans. Yet, there she stood, cold and unmoved by the lyrics. She watched like a lioness that calmly stalked her prey in the hot savannah, waiting for the right moment to attack. Right now she would simply watch the scene and gain his trust once more. Then, as she followed his routine, she would wait for his fatal mistake. And then the violent attack. That’s what their relationship had boiled down to over the years, Nick feeling like the wounded creature that the lioness played with in a sadistic game of life. Enjoying the way his blood made long rivulets down his broken body. Feeding off the power of controlling his slow, agonizing death—

“Howie, you’re such a sweetheart to offer, but I can drive Nicky home!”

Jerking his head upward, Nick realized that he was now standing in the parking lot with Howie and Melanie. The painfully long day of working in the studio had somehow passed without much bloodshed, though when he looked between Howie’s prized Corvette and Melanie’s newly purchased Mercedes-Benz, he realized that the day was not over. Howie had insisted on taking him to the studio that day to assure that he would be present, most likely so that management wouldn’t have a conniption of epic proportions. So, now, he would be confined to into a small space with a volatile—

“What do you think about that, Nicky?”

Dumbfounded, Nick found Howie and Melanie looking to him expectantly, but there was no answer that he could provide. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, he started to fuss with the sling encasing his broken arm, hoping he wouldn’t be physically reprimanded. “…What were we talking about?”

“I swear,” Melanie groaned, playfully nudging him in the ribs where the toe of her pointed heel had a habit of digging into. “You can be such a dumbass! Howie and Josephina want us to come out to dinner with them one night. He said he had mentioned it to you earlier, but—”

“The kid never listens to his answering machine, I swear,” Howie chuckled, noticing the tensing of Nick’s facial features. “But, what do you say? Sometime next week? I think it’d be nice. You two can pick the restaurant since you’re more familiar with the territory…”

“Sounds great, Howie,” Melanie promised with a magnetic smile, reaching to press kisses to both of his cheeks. “I’ll have Nicky call you with the details, okay?”

“Fantastic,” Howie promised, thinking nothing of the way her manicured nails brushed over his chest. Clearing his throat, he nodded toward Nick before fishing in his pocket for his keys. “Feel better, okay, Nicky?”

“Yeah… Thanks, D,” Nick answered with a small nod, muffling a yelp of surprise when Melanie yanked him toward her car. Hiding them away from Howie’s gaze as he pulled away, she was quick to push him against the side of the car, grabbing his collar to bring him down for a heated kiss. She wasted no time in eagerly thrusting her tongue into his mouth, catching his in a torrid dance of erotic undulations. There was a hunger behind the kiss, a raw passion that could never be explained to someone outside of their relationship, something that kept Nick in her clutches. “Mel…”

“I missed you so much, Pookie,” Melanie pouted when she pulled away, fussing with his mess of platinum streaked, dirty blonde locks. “And you really need to get your hair cut… You look like some beach-bum and I do not date beach-bums…”

“I’ll schedule an appointment,” Nick acquiesced, leaning back against the side of her car to brace his aching body. Sliding his good hand down the length of her body, he tentatively rested it upon the swell of her hip, thankful that she was being affectionate.

“Good.”

“…Are we really going out with Jo and D?”

“Of course we are. If you would have told me about it earlier, I could have made an excuse. Especially since I’ll be off to the Bahamas for that swimsuit calendar I was telling you about… But, we can’t duck out now. I can’t have that whore showing me up in front of your friends. They’ll think she’s better than me.”

“Baby—”

“We’ll go to my favorite and you’ll insist that you pay the entire bill. I’ll have to make sure to schedule an appointment with my stylist that morning and then go shopping... I’ll need your credit card again—”

“Mel—”

“I deserve this special treatment,” Melanie suddenly fussed, looking skeptically toward her lover. “Don’t I, Pookie?”

Afraid to say no, Nick nodded while pressing an apologetic kiss to her forehead. “Of course you do, Sweetheart. We’ll even get you some nice things for your trip to the Bahamas. I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll call me every day. It won’t be so bad. Now, come on, let’s go home. I need a long soak and a good foot rub,” Melanie decided, dropping her keys into Nick’s hand. “You drive.”

Whatever you say,’ Nick thought, falling into the normal routine of the cycle that might eventually get him killed.
Chapter 4 by Anastacia
Author's Notes:
I just wanted to take the time to thank you all for your amazing reviews. I am so appreciative of the feedback I'm recieving, because I truly was apprehensive about posting this fiction. Thank you so much. And, as always, I have to give a special thanks to My Posie for giving me the courage to post. She's my muse.
Chapter 4


Finally. A day of solitude. Nick was amazed at the relief he felt when he realized that the typical stressors of daily life wouldn’t be adding weight to his heavy shoulders that day. The business was at a standstill for today; no meetings, no interviews, no recordings, no pressures of fame. Melanie had even demanded one of his credit cards with the larger allowance so she could spend the day pampering herself. Alone. He had gladly given the card away in hopes to give himself peace of mind, knowing that she would be occupied for the rest of the day and pleased with his actions. So, given a day of complete and utter relaxation, he couldn’t have imagined spending it any other way than taking Layla to the beach for some exercise.

Opening the side door of his hunter green Cadillac Escalade, Nick grinned when Layla tumbled from the vehicle, unfazed when she hit the ground as if she were trying to manage a belly-flop. Simply shaking herself of the fall, she raced off onto the white sandy shoreline, barking eagerly. The light colored sand kicked up in a storm behind her furiously flying paws, demanding that he hurry to catch up. So, electronically locking his car, he hurried over the dunes and started a leisure jog to keep up with the exuberant puppy. She loved the beach almost as much as he did.

Feeling the wind whip about him and the warm sand molding to his feet; hearing the ocean waves rumbling onto the shore with a soft hiss and the distant sounds of seagulls cawing against the wind; Nick knew that he was within his true element. Though he had been born in New York City, he had been grown in the ocean waters of the Florida peninsula. So, naturally, when he moved to California, his first trip out had been to spot the perfect plot of beach. And he was thankful that not many people knew about this particular portion, because it gave him the privacy that he was not normally akin to. He was able to walk down the beach and pretend that he was actually normal—

“Layla!” Nick suddenly barked in disbelief, noticing the puppy playing in the shoreline as a wave rushed over her. He could only imagine what kind of undercurrent could snatch her off to sea, but was relieved to see her hurriedly surfacing. Furiously shaking her body to rid herself of the excess water, she seemed to grin goofily toward Nick. But, like always, something else caught her attention before he could beckon her back to his side.

Barking enthusiastically, she tore off down the shoreline, barreling toward the only other person occupying that sliver of beach that day – a woman who had just climbed out of the waves with her surfboard to rest for a moment. Without warning, she slammed her head into the back of the surfboard that had been propped into the wet sand, causing it to fall and surf into the waves. Hurling her body onto the length of the surfboard to send it skipping into the ocean, she knocked the female surfer onto her backside when the tether attached to her ankle broke free of the board.

GODDAMNIT!” Nick howled in disbelief, unable to stop the turn of events as his kleptomaniac of a puppy stole the woman’s surfboard. All he could do was race down through the sand to help, hoping that he wouldn’t be castrated in the process, especially when he stumbled. Unable to maintain, he dove face-first into the wet sand beside the stunned woman, skidding to a stop only when he seemed to be buried in the wet, clumpy mess. He sputtered at the salty taste of ocean waters lapping against his face, slamming his fist into the sand, knowing that his cast would itch furiously till it was removed due to the pile of sand crammed into it from the fall. “Damnit, Layla! You get back here right now!”

“…I’ve never met a dog that likes to surf…” a familiar voice murmured in disbelief.

Wiping the grit of dirt that plastered his face, Nick squinted to see past the sand caked upon his sunglasses to size up the woman he would be groveling to. Grunting when it was useless, he yanked the sunglasses from his face, rolled onto his back, and gasped sharply at the woman who blocked the glaring sun from his face. Of all the women that Layla could possibly attack, it had to be—

“…Roxanne…”

“If it isn’t Mr. Smith…” Roxanne immediately mused with recognition, holding out her hands so she could help him out of the watery grave he created.

Regarding her with a bashful smile, Nick couldn’t help but be enchanted. Her beautiful face radiated with the smile that had lingered in his dreams for the past several nights. Her strawberry blonde hair was damp from her dip in the ocean, causing the locks to curl to tight ringlets in the ponytail. Even in a natural state she was gorgeous. Sweeping his gaze from her hair down the length of her elegant neck, he was startled to find more cream colored skin than clothing. Wearing a black bikini with a halter-styled top and short boy-cut bottoms of all things! Of course, since they were at a beach, it wasn’t illegal for her to wear a bikini, but it was a drastic change considering she had been drowning in scrubs when he first saw her. But, he was certain that he enjoyed the bikini more. The boy-cut bottoms hugged tightly to her hips and adhered to her form like a second skin, causing forgotten carnal thoughts to sweep through his mind when he observed her long, silky legs that never seemed to end. And, forcing his eyes upward past the delicious curve of her hips, he was surprised to find that a metallic emblem of a skull and bones was pressed onto the right cup of her halter-top. Shuddering when he watched her breath pull her breasts upward, he realized that she easily could spill over a ‘D’ cup--

“…Nick?”

“I am so sorry,” Nick immediately apologized, pulling his gaze from her body as he brought his hands to his face to hide. Forgetting about the cast wrapped about his right hand, he winced when the energetic thrust of his hands to his face caused quite a powerful hit. “Damnit--”

“You are just too much,” Roxanne chuckled good-naturedly, undaunted by his obvious leering. In fact, closing her hands tenderly about his upper arm, she pulled him away from the waves that rushed in. Glancing down, she noticed Layla tugging her surfboard away from the surf with the tether, hassling happily as she returned to her master’s side. “Both of you are too much.”

“I am so sorry about what she did--”

“What’s her name?” Roxanne asked instead, stooping down to brush her hands over the wet puppy’s head. Laughing softly when Layla reared to eagerly lick her face, she made no attempt to push the puppy away. In fact, she seemed to put an extra vigor into rubbing the puppy’s soft coat before grabbing her surfboard.

“That’d be Layla. The grounded mutt,” Nick answered, watching Layla nip at the strap on the surfboard before taking it into her mouth as if she would help Roxanne carry it.

“For such an awesome ride, Layla, I think you deserve a drink,” Roxanne offered, gesturing to the day camp she had made a few yards up. “Coming, Mr. Smith?”

“You can call me Nick,” he answered with a nod, following her.

“I was absolutely convinced that I was the only person that knew about this part of the beach,” Roxanne casually conversed as she reached her large, colorful beach blanket tucked underneath an even larger umbrella. Discarding her surfboard, she snatched the towel that had been resting with her other things and wiped the water from her face before plopping down beside the cooler. Rummaging around for a moment, she retrieved a large plastic cup from her picnic basket and a bottled water from the cooler, then poured the drink for Layla. Stabilizing the cup in the sand, she smiled when Layla pushed her entire face into the cup to greedily drink. “What kind of dog is she?”

“She’s a Pit-bull,” Nick answered, shifting his feet uncomfortably within the hot sand as he stared down at Roxanne. Itching absentmindedly at his chest, he was acutely aware of all the sand that had been ground into his body from the fall. He was even pretty sure that he could start a fire with the friction of sand combined with a hot fart in the crack of his ass—

“Here, Nick, take off your shirt and get rid of all that sand,” Roxanne called, breaking into his thoughts as she stood from the beach blanket. She had extended the slightly dampened towel she had used and smiled sympathetically at his reluctance. “I know what’s underneath your shirt and I know you don’t want to talk about it, but you can’t sit there in misery. Use the towel to wrap around you if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you…” Nick trailed, not used to the overwhelming kindness that she extended to him. Melanie had never gone out of her way to ensure that he was taken care of, nor would she ever offer something of hers to him, whether he needed it or not. Fumbling slightly with his t-shirt, he grunted and groaned as he struggled to remove it, falling onto his backside when he yanked his head free. Stunned, he turned to see Roxanne giggling softly at his bewildered expression.

“Here,” Roxanne murmured, taking his t-shirt to shake the sand from it. When she assumed she had done the best she could, she stood to hang it upon her surfboard to dry. Turning, she watched the way Nick gingerly patted the sand from the deep scratches carved into his chest. She did her best not to wince, simply retrieving two cans of sodas before laying herself beside him. “How are you feeling?”

“Those pain killers that the Doc gave me are really something,” Nick answered, wrapping the towel about his shoulders when all the sand had been removed. Turning to look at her, he noticed she was laying and instantly shifted to face her while tucking his legs carefully beneath him. He did his best to concentrate on her face, thankful when Layla had plopped down into his lap for a carefree nap, hiding what he knew would be a telltale sign of an interest he wasn’t supposed to have. “I feel like a million bucks.”

“Are you keeping yourself safe?” she asked seriously, tucking her arms behind her head.

“It’s never been about anyone hurting me--”

“Just tell me you’re keeping yourself safe.”

“…I am…” he murmured after an uncomfortable pause, making sure not to add the ‘For now’ that he had been thinking.

“Oh!” Roxanne suddenly blurted, interrupting his thoughts once more when she turned to her side momentarily. Grabbing the two icy cans, she turned back and offered one to him. “I hope Pepsi’s okay?”

“A helluva lot better than Coke, that’s for fucking sure,” Nick snorted, suddenly appalled with his character. Melanie had always berated him for such vulgarities, though she had the mouth of a sailor. He had every intention of apologizing till he heard her soft laugh. Grinning at her carefree smile, he popped the top of his can and took a hearty swallow. Knowing her sight was obscured momentarily as she drank, he allowed himself another quick peek at her amazing body. He couldn’t deny the sexual instinct that had been instilled in him as a hot-blooded male, though his focus concentrated on the marred patch of skin along her abdomen--

“What are you staring at?”

“Huh?!” Nick lurched in horror, realizing that he had been caught. Swallowing hard, he shrank away from her and gestured pitifully in attempts to save himself, merely waiting for the outstretched hand to turn malicious in nature. “I…You…I…

“Nick…” Roxanne trailed uneasily.

“That,” Nick sputtered, gesturing toward the slightly darkened patched of raised skin to the far right angle of her belly button. He knew that it wasn’t a fresh injury, having faded to almost her original skin color, but it was such an unusual place for one. And the precision of the angle far too clean for an accident—

“The scar?”

“Yeah… How’d that happen?”

“Serious brawl at the local bar one night. All these fucking biker boys swarmed in like locusts. I was battling with this Hell’s Angel that had more testosterone than a stud stallion and smaller balls than a mouse and I just totally had to annihilate him because he smacked my ass and my girlfriend got jealous.”

Staring at Roxanne for the longest moment, Nick didn’t know what to make of her tale. The look on her face was so serious, not even her lips twitched in hopes to elicit a smile. Her aquamarine eyes had actually turned into a dark sapphire blue. Tilting his head to the side, he shook his head in disbelief. “…You’re serious?”

“…Serious about what?” she asked, toying with him as if he were on a set of strings.

“The girlfriend thing?”

“Nick!” Roxanne burst with a hearty laugh, gently pushing on his shoulder while she sat up. “I thought you’d be in that one percentile of men that aren’t sexually aroused by homosexual relations between females! I just told you this amazing story about kicking the ass of this burly biker and you’re worried about my jealous girlfriend!”

Flinching again, Nick hurriedly attempted to assuage her, “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t be,” Roxanne interrupted, giving him a winsome smile. “You’re absolutely adorable when you blush.”

Hesitating again, Nick felt his cheeks burn crimson, unable to censure his thoughts, “…So that means you’re not a lesbian?”

“Hell no! I hate girls way too much to befriend them, let alone date them. They’re manipulative, whiny, self-serving, egotistical, pretentious, vain--”

“I think I get the point,” Nick actually laughed, thrilled at the way she squealed when a piece of ice dripped upon her inner thigh. Noticing the way she blushed, though she tried to hide her embarrassment, he felt a true smile tug at the corner of his lips. “You’re so different from other women…”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Roxanne muttered ruefully, wiping the cold water away from her leg. Glancing up, she noticed the way his dark indigo eyes smoldered with appreciation and felt her entire body tense with a cheap thrill. But, unable to keep her self-destructive habits controlled, she asked, “Is your girlfriend different too?”

“…My girlfriend?”

“Melanie Hart, right?” Roxanne continued, biting down hard on her inner cheek till she thought that she’d draw blood. “…It’s hard not to notice you two plastered on the tabloids while I’m waiting in check-out lines…”

“Yeah… I guess…” Nick answered softly, feeling the back pocket of his trunks start to vibrate. Shifting with the dozing puppy on his lap, he retrieved his phone to quickly check the Caller ID. Seeing Melanie’s name appear, Nick lurched from his seated position and cursed at the resulting pain. Looking to Roxanne, he became skittish and encased in a thick layer of guilt, knowing that Melanie would suspect the worst. “I’ve really got to take this call—”

“Speak of the Devil, huh?” Roxanne questioned, trying to bury her disappointment.

“Yeah…” Nick trailed, hurriedly finishing with some sort of parting words while calling Layla to his side. Stumbling away and fumbling to open the phone with one hand, he was dismayed when his cellular phone alerted him to a newly arrived voice-mail. Melanie would not be pleased with his delayed reaction, but he stopped suddenly to face the befuddled Roxanne. Suddenly he thought, to Hell with Melanie’s temper, and called out, “Hey! Can I call you later?”

*~*~*


Holding her wine glass up for the server to fill once more, Josephina Hernandez cast a disgruntled glare to her significant other. She had spent a great deal of time getting ready that evening because he had asked her to. She had spent what seemed like hours diligently piling her copper colored curls into an elegant bun, curling the pieces of hair that had fallen to frame her face. Then another amount of precious time had been wasted applying makeup to accentuate her already lovely oval face, complimenting her full, luscious lips, sleekly defined nose, and glittering azure orbs which hid behind a pair of smart tortoiseshell glasses. She had even taken great consideration in choosing her outfit for the evening, which was a simple, short black dress with a lattice of silver embellishment flaring down the left side, enhancing her voluptuous curves. And, after all that effort, there she sat. Waiting. Her azure eyes burned with impatience, though she waited till the server scurried away to speak her mind. It was horrible enough to be roped into an evening that would no doubt leave her incapacitated with a furious migraine, but completely horrendous to be deceitful about the entire affair. “Howard Dwaine—”

“Oh, now I know I’m in trouble,” Howie attempted to tease with an uneasy chuckle, shifting uncomfortably in his seat while taking another hearty sip of his wine. He knew all too well what was starting to burn in his love’s heart. Typically, he wasn’t the source of her anger, but he certainly did receive the brunt of the burn when she vented. “Baby—”

“Don’t you dare start with the niceties,” Josephina chided, scowling in his direction when he attempted to assuage her annoyances. “I cannot believe that you told Nick and that…Two-faced-bug-eyed-prissy-whore that it was my idea for a double date. Honestly, Howie, you know that I don’t care for that woman who, in my opinion, has quite literally dug her fake nails into Nick’s arm to the point where he’s immobilized. I specifically told you that I missed Nick and wanted to invite him to our rented condo for dinner. Yet you concoct this ridiculous—”

“Nick! Melanie! There you are!” Howie suddenly announced, practically leaping from his seat to avoid his lover’s sharply worded reprimands. Waving the couple toward their private dining room, he made sure to lean down to press a soft kiss to his lover’s cheek. Never before had he wanted an evening to go so perfectly before, because he knew how precious the stakes were. He had spent much of the afternoon with Brian and AJ discussing Nick’s recent bout of injuries and just wanted the best for his young friend. “Please be nice. Nick really loves Melanie and needs us to know that we support him, especially now.”

“I’m not some royal bitch, Howie, I know how to—My God, Nick, what happened to you?!” Josephina exclaimed loudly without any thought to censor herself, ignoring the particulars of greeting and complimenting Melanie. Instead, she lurched up from the private table, causing the wine glasses to titter precariously over the elegant, linen tablecloth, and stepped toward Nick to cup his face within her hands. No one had thought to mention to her that Nick had been injured so severely, so it was an overwhelming shock to see him hurting. Clicking her tongue, she was horrified to see the array of painful coloring moving from his stitched bottom lip across his left face and the purple coloring of his right fingers poking out from the plain cast. “My God, what overeager fan’s boyfriend got hold of you?!”

“He tripped over Layla and collided with one of the doors at home. It was such a mess,” Melanie intervened when Nick couldn’t process a proper explanation. Though she was smaller than Josephina by several inches, she mustered a tall posture as if to threaten her. The other woman had no right to question what happened behind closed doors, especially her closed doors. “One too many beers, huh, Pookie?”

“Right…” Josephina trailed suspiciously when Nick made some kind of fruitless shrug of agreement. Brushing her fingers delicately over his face to bring his attention back to her, she was dismayed to see the lackluster in his usually shimmering indigo eyes. No spark of life. No impish streak. And what seemed to throw a dagger into her heart is when she noticed the peculiar shape of the central bruise, which was darkest and the hardest point of impact, seemed to match perfectly with the expensive emerald cut, diamond ring perched on Melanie’s right hand. “Nicky, Sweetheart, you may be clumsy, but you’re not that clumsy—”

“It happens…” Nick murmured with a soft shrug of his shoulders, feeling the electricity of annoyance sparking from his girlfriend’s body, warning him to be careful. So, gently pulling away from Josephina, he mustered a small smile, making sure to treat her as if she were nothing special. No matter how much he enjoyed Josephina’s company and wanted to hug her, he couldn’t chance his girlfriend becoming jealous and possessive. “It’s nice to see you again, Jo.”

“You too, Nick…” Josephina answered, dismayed to find that he offered no affection. She couldn’t recall another instance in where Nick had refused to hug her. In fact, when she had first started dating Howie, Nick had been the only member of the group to wrap her in a bear hug as a welcoming. He held no preconceived notion about her, simply loving her as an older sister because Howie had asked him to. Yet, there Nick stood, distanced from her in a way she couldn’t explain. Watching in confusion, she noticed how he wrapped an arm about Melanie’s tiny waist as if to show that he was dedicated. But, Melanie wanted no part in his romantic gesture, breaking away so she could embrace Howie instead.

“We should have done this sooner!” Melanie exclaimed with a charming giggle, wrapping her arms around the older man’s neck. Pressing her body close to his, she made sure to press several kisses to his face before playing with the collar of his shirt. Her lips formed into a small seductive smile as her fingers brushed down his chest, proving to Josephina that she was in control indeed. “You are just so handsome, Howie. I wish Nick knew how to dress like this. He just looks like some blob that fell into a pair of pants and a sports coat…”

Flustered, Howie moistened his lips and seemed to grin manically. “Well, thank you—”

“Excuse me,” Nick suddenly muttered. “I need to take a piss.”

“Nick…” Howie trailed in confusion, though it was fruitless as the man stalked away.

“Honestly… As if any self respecting woman wear’s cheap, prostitute-red lipstick anymore,” Josephina growled when she stepped toward her love. Giving him a censuring glare for upsetting Nick, she then reached in her purse to collect a tissue to rub off the smear of lipstick Melanie purposely left upon her lover’s face.

“I think I could use this chance to freshen up as well. Howie, you’ve got such good taste, why don’t you order us some appetizers? I’ll make sure to be right back so you don’t miss me too much,” Melanie suggested sweetly, burning at the sharp barb that passed from Josephina’s lips. Tightening her hands into fists, she watched Howie simply wave her off when Josephina captured him in a sweet affair of kisses. Not being the center of attention, she stalked through the dimly lit restaurant, noticing Nick ahead of her attempting to slip into the men’s bathroom. Annoyed that he had left without permission, she grabbed him by his injured arm and pushed him into the women’s bathroom.

“Jesus Christ, Mel—”

Keeping the element of surprise to her advantage, she shoved him into the nearby bathroom stall without justification. Throwing herself against him, she was able to keep him pinned to the tiled wall. Digging her nails into his injured arm, she was exhilarated by the yelp of pain that Nick emitted amongst his sputters for an explanation. But, she refused to give him one, simply yanking at his belt before tearing it from the loops. The sound of the belt clearing the loops and the wild jerk of Nick’s hips made her giggle. Then, ceremoniously tossing it to the floor, she crouched onto her knees and wrenched his pants to his ankles.

“Melanie, don’t—”

“Don’t be such a fucking pussy, you know you like it,” Melanie growled, using her free hand to grab his flaccid member, practically crushing it. Aware of the broken skin, bruises, and bite marks she had previously left upon him, but unsympathetic, she made sure to press her long nails into the flesh till he released a painful yelp. Hearing the whispers of other women filtering into the bathroom, she felt her appetite grow and brought him into her mouth. Biting down hard, she was not surprised when he became hard, despite his adversity to what they were doing. Dragging her nails over his already marred thighs, she was pleased at the sight of fresh blood. Leaning back with his rigid length in her mouth, she grinned at his humiliation. “See, you want this as much as I do. So, take it like a man.”

Sniffling softly, Nick leaned his head back against the cold tile wall and squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the pained tears rolling down his cheeks.

Take it like a man…
Chapter 5 by Anastacia
Chapter 5


Staring at the number he had finally keyed into his cellular phone from memory, Nick was at a loss as to why he couldn’t commit himself to press send. He had memorized her number that day for this specific purpose, knowing that he could find a private area in which he could speak freely. Had even promised her that he would call. But he couldn’t bring himself to press the button to connect their phones. He could have pretended to be naļve about the whole situation in attempts to fool himself, but it was ridiculous to try. Roxanne was a beautiful woman with a dynamic personality; he knew that just from spending those few hours with her. She had the potential to be something very special in his life, but there was a dangerous impediment in that path by the name of Melanie.

Spending time with Roxanne had caused a serious evaluation of his current relationship. Deep within him, he knew that the love he felt for the deadly woman had died many months ago when she had first raised her hand to him. He even knew that he should have walked away that very day, but he truly had feared being alone. He had seen the warning signs boiling over, reminding him so much of his parents’ dangerous relationship. But still he stayed with the thought that Melanie would be the only woman to ever love him in spite of his numerous faults. Every fiber within his being had told him to speak out against the hurt she caused. That it was wrong. But he feared the reactions of his family and friends. Thinking that perhaps he was to blame for all of her wrongdoings, he wondered if they would even believe him. After all, had he just walked away so many months ago, he wouldn’t be suffering now. But, he had chose to stay and had to be the man and accept the consequences—

“There you are!”

Lurching off the couch as if it had been set aflame, Nick was unable to keep hold of his cellular phone on the midst of his body’s panicked commotion. Leaving his hands, it flew across the room, startling Josephina who managed to catch the piece of equipment before it could injure her. Cursing in disbelief, Nick raggedly dragged his hands through his mess of blonde locks, knowing how guilty he looked. His startled reactions had become flamboyantly exacerbated by Melanie’s cruelty and his guilt overloaded when he flushed with dark embarrassment.

“Sorry, Jo…”

“I think all those years of being a mischievous brat have left you with an overzealous guilt reflex, Nicky,” Josephina chided with a small smile, looking at the screen of the cellular phone for a moment. The numbers did not locate anyone personal already saved into Nick’s phone, so her natural curiosity piqued. Crossing the room, she seated herself upon the sofa and gestured for Nick to take a seat as well. “Why are you hiding from everyone? Howie is upstairs actually arguing with AJ, which is a sight to see because he’s never argued with a soul in his life. The little tips of his pointed ears are bright red, it’s the cutest thing, I swear—”

“You two are such the lovebirds,” Nick muttered, though he offered the older woman a small smile nonetheless. Josephina and Howie had been together for several years, perhaps longer than Brian and his wife had been together. Marriage had always been a possibility, but Josephina was adamant on establishing her career first. Of course, Nick considered their co-op to be a true marriage despite lacking the identifiers of a marriage. It was something he hoped he could have one day… Well… At least he had hoped…

“Well, you and Melanie aren’t lacking in the romantic tryst department either, Nicky…” Josephina trailed, looking up to gauge his reaction to her statement. She was worried when his facial features seemed to tighten into a painful grimace. All of the conclusions she was beginning to draw about Nick’s relationship with Melanie were forming quite a sour note in the pit of her heart. He had looked so scared and meek after returning from the bathroom the other night during their double date. Had barely managed a few words before excusing himself from the event. Howie had attributed it to the youthful indiscretion that the couple had commenced in, but his opinion had been positive. He didn’t see the fear resonating in Nick’s dark indigo eyes, not like his lover had.

“Yeah…”

“You did want what happened in the bathroom, right, Nicky?”

Blanking for a moment, Nick just stared at Josephina with the utmost confusion. “…What?”

“When she took you into the bathroom the other night at dinner, did you want that?”

Nick snorted loudly, though it seemed more insecure and inflated than anything. “C’mon now, Jo, what man would turn down sex? Much less public sex?”

“One that has the imprint of his horrible girlfriend’s overpriced ring in his jaw,” Josephina explained softly, wanting to be delicate about the issue though every fiber in her being screamed for her to simply be direct and fiery. That was her usual nature – to explode and pick up the pieces later. But, this entire situation was new to her. Just the very thought that Nick could possibly be abused was horrifying. But a true nightmare to know that he was hiding it. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how similar that bruise on your face is to that damn ring she insisted you buy.”

“Jo…” Nick trailed, unable to come up with an explanation for the bruise marring the side of his face. The pains in his body were still fresh from the last trip to the Emergency Room, not to mention the bathroom assault the previous evening. The lower half of his body was just a large bruise with deep scratches and bite marks. But to admit that would be detrimental to everything he held dear in his life, especially with his friends and family.

“If she’s hurting you, Nicky, you need to tell me.”

“She’s—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me. Not about this. Not when you’re hurting so much.”

“Look, the stuff you see is me just being an clumsy asshole…”

“You’re telling me that you fell on her fist?”

“Jo--”

“Why’d you end up in the ER?”

“I was walking up the patio steps after walking the beach in my flip-flops. They were slippery from the ocean and wouldn’t you know the bastards flung out from underneath me—”

“Melanie said you were plastered and you tripped over Layla.”

He wasn’t sure what to say when she confronted him with the lack of cohesiveness among his excuses. No one had ever bothered to question his reasons for the injuries, even if they were positively absurd. It seemed almost as if they were afraid to know. Because knowing meant that they would have to face the pain and act upon it. Yet, like Roxanne, Josephina was pushing him for an answer and he couldn’t provide one. He didn’t want to. Even if he needed to—

“Nicky, answer me.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Nick murmured, shrugging his shoulders haphazardly.

“Does she hurt you?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“The bitch is dead—”

“Jo, every relationship has hurts!” Nick hurried to explain, leaning back in fear when her hands clenched into fists. “She hurts me. I hurt her. It’s give and take… She just tends to give more and take more… I mean, if I was in any danger, I’d leave. You know me…”

“That you’d never hit a woman even when she deserves it, yes, I know you—”

“Don’t tell the guys, okay? I don’t need anymore shit from them… First I can’t get my vocals right, next they’ll be calling me a pussy…” Looking up from his clasped hands, he carefully cleared his throat when their contrasting gazes met. “…Promise me?”

“I can’t…” Josephina’s disagreement trailed into a pointless conclusion when she noticed Nick finely trembling on the opposite side of the couch. He was so meek and broken because of Melanie, but unable to fully admit that he was the victim of domestic abuse. He hadn’t even stated clearly that he was hurt, but she knew. God, did she know. Respectfully, Josephina offered a small nod of agreement and looked to the open phone she was holding. “…Is this the number where you’re going to be able to reach Melanie while she’s in some remote location on a beautiful island where I hope she gets a deadly case of dysentery? Because I don’t recognize this number.”

“No!” Nick blurted, realizing that Josephina was studying the number far too intently. Leaning forward, he pulled the phone from her hand and immediately erased any memory of the phone number. It seemed as if he’d never be able to have a chance at happiness. The perfunctory erasing of the numbers that could potentially lead to romance and excitement seemed so symbolic in his mind. So final.

“Who’s number is it then?”

“No one’s—”

“Nicky, c’mon now—”

“Her name is Roxanne. She took care of me at the Emergency Room.”

“She’s a doctor?”

“Even better, she’s a nurse.”

“I can just imagine you comparing her to that medical fetish porn collect you’ve got brewing in a closet somewhere—”

“Jo, it ain’t even like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“Don’t get me wrong, the chick is fucking sexy as Hell, but—”

“Nick Carter is going to focus on something more than a girl being fucking sexy?”

“Jo, she’s nice,” Nick stated simply, knowing it spoke volumes without any means of elaboration.

*~*~*


Hearing a loud purr that vibrated against her face, Roxanne stifled a heavy yawn and blindly reached out to scratch the ears of her needy feline. Feeling petite paws kneading the softness of her breasts while whiskers tickled her flushed cheeks, she brought her free hand outward in attempts to locate the small alarm clock. After several items tumbled from their place and clattered to the floor, she managed to find the alarm clock, telling her that it was mid-afternoon. The California sun was blazing behind the thick curtains she had purposely selected because of unpleasantness, especially when she was known for being a creature of the night. She had hoped that Jinx would be a nocturnal creature as well, but the brat obviously had other intentions. So, casting the alarm clock over the side of her bed, Roxanne reached both hands up to lovingly stroke the thick, black fur of her beloved kitten.

“Obviously my day off needs to be devoted to you, huh, Jinxie?”

Jinx seemed to agree wholeheartedly with her statement, but decided to make her mistress work for the reciprocated affections. Kneading at her soft body a few more times, Jinx turned in a circle to get the full benefit of Roxanne’s scratches. But, slipping her tail beneath Roxanne’s nose for a quick swish, she hopped off the bed and sauntered through the half opened door.

“Tease!” Roxanne called behind her mysterious minx, rolling onto her side with a huff as if she had been truly stilted. When she heard her cat’s yowl, telling her to behave, she actually laughed and slipped from beneath the covers she had bunched into tight tangles throughout the night. Yawning once more, she gathered her long strawberry blonde curls into a high ponytail and adjusted the waistband of her boxer shorts to settle beneath her belly button before even noticing that her answering machine was blinking. She couldn’t imagine that she had actually slept through the jarring ring of her telephone. Even during her roughest days at work, she never missed a ring of the telephone, in case it was some dire emergency. She had learned early to always answer the phone. But when she noticed it peeking from beneath a pile of clean clothes, she could certainly understand. So, leaning over, she hit the button to rewind the machine and play the message.

Kitten, what the fuck are you doing living all the way out in California? Jesus Christ, iIt took me ages just to find you… I almost thought I had the wrong place when all the letters I sent you kept coming back… But then I know you so I saved my money to make this call. Bet sunny California is entirely different from our happy home in Pennsylvania… I miss you, Baby. I’m sorry about what happened between us and I know you’re sorry too. We can fix everything if you’d just stop being such a bitch. So, next time I call, I need you to pick up the phone. My hearing is coming up soon and—

Jerking forward at the sound of the familiar voice that continuously haunted her nightmares, Roxanne grabbed at the small answering machine and ripped it from the wall. The paint of the wall cracked at the force as the phone jack gave way. Heaving it across the room, she released a ragged breath of disgust. How a man locked away in a maximum-security penitentiary could manage to locate her whereabouts after nearly killing her was unimaginable. She had always loathed the justice system, especially when it had failed her so many times, protecting her attacker as if he were a victim—

Tensing when the phone shrilly rang from beneath her pile of clothing, Roxanne leaned down to scoop it up. He would never quit hounding her, not even when he was stuck behind thick cement walls and ominous iron bars. But she would not be submissive to his charms. Not again. Not when she had finally released the shackles of those painful years. Slamming her thumb upon the ‘talk’ button, she growled, “Damnit, Richard—“

“Holy Hell, I must have the wrong number. This isn’t Roxanne Doherty, is it?”

Roxanne hesitated in confusion, too overwhelmed with rage to be embarrassed. “…Who’s calling?”

“You don’t know me, but… God, is this just a beautiful way to start out a conversation? You must think I’m some kind of stalker who’s watching you from the window… Of course, I’d be on a payphone and breathing heavily—”

“There is no payphone near my window,” Roxanne actually laughed. “So, who is this exactly? And why have you gone off your medication?”

The woman on the opposite end of the conversation released a high-pitched squeal of amused laughter, “I’d think I was in need of medication, too! My name is Josephina Hernandez. I’m one of Nick Carter’s beloved friends.”

“Okay…”

“This is the Roxanne Doherty that took care of Nick Carter in the Emergency Room, right?”

“HIPPA prevents me from—”

“The dope probably signed himself in as John Smith, because he’s watched Mr. and Mrs. Smith one too many times—”

“Again, Ma’am, I can’t—”

“I’m not a reporter, I promise. I truly am one of Nick Carter’s friends. I got your phone number from him. He said you gave him a business card with your name and titles, but put your personal numbers on the back. You wanted him to give you a call.”

“How do I honestly know that you’re not some sleaze trying to pry information out of me?” Roxanne stated seriously, flopping back onto her unmade bed in hopes to focus on the conversation. She was hardly in the state of mind to accurately assess the situation at hand, not after working all evening and just waking. And, the absurdity of the call just made things worse.

“I really didn’t think this conversation was going to be so damn hard. I mean, I commend you on that HIPPA nonsense, but I’m not looking for information about Nick. I already know more about him than you’d ever care to know. I just wanted to invite you to a dinner that I’m planning. You see, I’m dating Howie Dorough, one of Nick’s other friends. We invited Nick to stay with us for a few days and I just know that he’s going to feel like the third wheel. So, I figured I could invite you to dinner, since he spoke so highly of you—”

“What exactly did he say about me?”

“That it takes a very secure woman to ride a surfboard in a string bikini, especially when a crazy mutt like his is roaming about without a leash…”

“That’s why I duct tape everything into its proper place…”

“A girl after my own heart,” Josephina chuckled. “So, what do you say to dinner?”
Chapter 6 by Anastacia
Chapter 6


“You did what?!”

Glancing up from the four place settings in the rented condo’s dining room, Josephina was amused when Nick actually screeched in disbelief at her statement. Layla had been frightened by the sound, racing out into the backyard where Howie was preparing the meat on the grill. He was acting as if she had mutated into some horrifying beast when she had just simply answered his question. Four dinner settings for two guests that evening; himself and another. Of course, he had pressed her for the name of the other guest and when she revealed it, chaos had broken free. He assumed that all Hell was breaking loose and fire would soon rain upon the Earth to destroy him. His words. Seemed quite appropriate that it was his nickname, especially now. “I told you, I called Miss Doherty and invited her to join us for dinner. She should be arriving shortly.”

“Arriving shortly—You called—But you—Curse you to the depths of the most vile outhouse for your photographic memory!” Nick cursed in shock, immediately recalling how briefly she had glanced at his cell phone. It had never taken Josephina long to memorize pieces of information that she wanted, especially numbers. She could recall every size of clothing he needed for Christmas within a mere moment. Groaning with the realization that Roxanne would be appearing soon and he looked like he had straggled in from the dirtiest of streets, he rushed for the bedroom he had taken over and knocked Howie out of his way.

“What was that about?” Howie whistled, easily balancing the bowl of freshly made garden salad and pasta salad despite the hit. He had learned very quickly how to maintain good balance, especially during the bustle of family gatherings. Being the youngest son of the Dorough family with decades of time between him and his eldest siblings, he found himself at ease with having children underfoot, particularly Nick.

“We’re having a guest,” Josephina answered simply, taking the bowl of salad from her love’s hands and giving him a soft kiss of thanks in return. She smiled at the way he nodded, so complacent with her decisions as long as he was receiving affection. She had always admired the sweet simplicity and easygoingness of his nature, because she was undoubtedly a polar opposite.

“What kind of guest would get him all flustered—” Howie’s question halted in mid-thought when his dark cocoa eyes widened in realization. Sinking into a nearby chair, he groaned outwardly, knowing Josephina far too well. “Jos, tell me you aren’t trying to fix the boy up again. Because you know how ugly that fight he had with Melanie was after the first time—”

“Yes, and I also know now how he got that third degree burn on his arm the next day,” Josephina muttered with disgust, playing with the flowered centerpiece to assure its perfection. Nick had been so endearing when he spoke of Roxanne. From the time he had met her in the Emergency Room to sharing her blanket on the beach. She had undoubtedly captured his heart in the few moments of their initial meeting, though Nick couldn’t admit that. He was far too frightened of the consequences. So, Josephina wanted to assure that this night would speak the words that Nick feared to even whisper. “Dear, sweet Howard, I may have set the date up, but I did not select the girl. Roxanne is the nurse that took care of him in the hospital. He wanted to repay her—”

“But he has Melanie—”

“The Hell he does!”

“Jos—”

“Let’s get something straight about that wretch of a whore who stumbled into his life for a cheap pair of stiletto heels and a namesake. Nick does not have Melanie, but she most certainly has a hold on him. And if she sticks her claws into his flesh one more time and leaves yet another scar, I swear to God that she’s going to be spitting out expensive acrylic nails for years after I tear them all off and shove them in her ass—”

Jos!”

Tightening the muscles of her jaw as she erected into an overbearing stance, Josephina swallowed the hard lump in her throat that was most certainly filled with a string of expletives. Attempting to control herself, she murmured her confession quietly, “She hurts Nicky.”

“…What?”

Opening her mouth with every intention of explaining, she found herself interrupted by the twinkling melody of the doorbell. Mustering some kind of smile toward Howie, she squeezed his upper arm and suggested that he get the meat from the grill. When he agreed, she slipped out of the dining room and hurried to the front door, wanting to have the first look at their guest. And, even though Nick shrieked for no one to open the door, she did so anyway with a welcoming smile.

“…Josephina?”

“That’d be me,” Josephina confirmed, waving for Roxanne to follow her inside the condo. Shutting the door behind her as Layla came rushing in from the porch, eagerly greeting the familiar woman, Josephina took a cursory glance at her appearance. Her long strawberry blonde locks were tied into a tight French braid, though some loose strands fell to frame her pretty face. She was dressed in a pair of faded jean shorts and a simple gray racer-back tank top. Simply put, Roxanne was a naturally beautiful woman who seemed to have a gentle confidence about herself that could never be confused with arrogance. She held no qualms about stooping onto the floor to become involved with Layla, accepting the furious licks of welcome to her face, which caused a charming laugh. “You are absolutely adorable, Roxanne.”

“…What?” Roxanne laughed with a small air of discomfort, looking about the condo for any source of Nick.

“I can see why Nick—”

“Jo! I told you not to answer the door!” Nick squealed in shock, running halfway down the steps till he realized that Roxanne was already inside. Lurching, he almost tumbled, but held tight to the railing to keep himself from worse injury. Immediately, Layla rolled from her back and raised her ears as if expecting a humiliating crash. Nick flushed crimson that his mutt was so keen on his blunders, causing him to raise his chin high in attempts to put on airs, though he tripped on the last step and fell to his knees in front of Roxanne.

“No need to thank the Lord that I’m here, Nick,” Roxanne teased good naturedly, stooping down so she could grasp his hand and upper arm, helping him to his feet. “How are you?”

“Embarrassed,” Nick muttered, avoiding all means of eye contact with Roxanne as he stumbled to his feet. It was so characteristic of him to fuck up when a beautiful woman was around.

“As embarrassed as a man who jerked off into a cup meant for a urine sample?” Roxanne inquired as means to give Nick perspective.

“Do what?” Nick sputtered in disbelief.

“And that’s just on a good day at the ER,” Roxanne laughed, reaching to brush away the stray blonde locks that had fallen into his dark indigo eyes. She couldn’t deny the flush of delight that hinted against the already rosy coloring of her cheeks when he offered her a genuine smile of amusement. “How’s your arm?”

“Itching like Layla gave me fleas,” he answered honestly, causing Layla to snort in derision before trotting off.

“Cute…” Roxanne laughed, somewhat startled by Josephina’s loud clearing of her throat. Pulling away from her private moment with Nick, she noticed Josephina gesture toward the dining room. Nodding in agreement, Roxanne took the arm that Nick offered, allowing him to lead her into the room and seat her.

“These two are already like ying and yang,” Josephina announced when Howie took his seat beside her. Reaching for the glass of wine he had poured her, she gasped with surprise and hurriedly set it down. “Where are my manners?! Roxanne, this is my boyfriend and Nick’s friend, Howie. Sweetheart, this is Roxanne, Nick’s—”

“Friend,” Nick hurriedly interrupted before Josephina could make any sort of mess. Whatever was brewing between Roxanne and himself was of his own accord. It was not made to be tampered with. Not yet.

“Damn, guess I really know where I stand now…” Roxanne breathed with a disappointed smile, though she squeezed Nick’s arm in reassurance when he sputtered to apologize. “I’ll just have to work harder to charm you.”

“So, how did you two meet?” Howie suddenly questioned, passing the salad along to Josephina before reaching for the steak he had grilled to perfection. He stabbed his fork outward until he hit meat, too focused on evaluating Roxanne. He kept his gaze upon Nick and Roxanne, debating on whether or not to approve of the romantic nature kindling between them. The smile on Nick’s face was unmistakable.

“I took care of Nick when he came into the Emergency Room,” Roxanne explained vaguely, helping to fix Nick’s plate when he spilled the pasta salad into his lap. She said nothing of his blunder, nor when he brushed off his lap for Layla to lick up the remains from the floor.

“So you’re a doctor?” Howie guessed, surprised that someone with her level of intelligence would be interested in a man who resigned in Florida.

“God no,” Roxanne snorted, “I’m far too qualified to be a doctor.”

“Then what do you do at the Emergency Room?”

“I’m a nurse.”

When Howie fell dumbstruck at her declaration that nurses were superior to physicians, Josephina cleared her throat and reached a hearty chunk of steak. She had never seen Howie act so disgruntled with guests and she made sure to poke him in the thigh with her fork to show her disapproval. “Nicky told me that you had all these fancy letters attached to the back of your name. What do they stand for?”

“Oh, well I got my master’s in nursing as a nurse clinician—”

“My God, how old are you?!” Josephina blurted without thought.

“I’m twenty-four…” Roxanne trailed with a small smile, proud of her accomplishments. “And I’m a certified S.A.N.E. nurse.” When everyone offered her a bewildered glance, she smiled apologetically. “That’s a sexual assault nurse examiner and I’ve also had extensive training in domestic violence. So, when any rape, suspected child abuse, or domestic violence cases come into the ER, I’m the one that guides them through the healthcare system.”

“God, why would you do something so horrifyingly depressing?” Howie scorned with surprise, jerking when the fork landed in his thigh once more.

“Because someone needs to look out for the lost sheep in this society and I’ve had personal experience in the area,” Roxanne answered honestly, with no means of hostility or judgment. Though, seeing the discomfort in her entertainers, she leaned toward Nick and gently poked his ribs. “Did I need to bring in my damn resume with a list of contacts and a urine sample or what?”

“Meet my foster parents, more of a pain in the ass than the originals,” Nick muttered, looking to Josephina and Howie with an exaggerated glare.

“We can’t help it! We’re naturally curious!” Josephina exclaimed when Howie busied himself with pushing heaping portions of food onto his plate. For being so charming with strangers at various benefits, he sure was flunking this meet-and-greet. "She can feel free to ask us any questions she wants!”

“How old are you?” Roxanne questioned, deciding to take full advantage of the opportunity.

“I’m twenty-nine and Howie is thirty-two.”

“What do you do for a living—”

Howie’s dark chocolate eyes widened in horror and he immediately turned to his beloved. “Jos, I think it’s time we just ate—”

Josephina shook her head in disappointment at Howie’s uproar. “Howie, we’ve badgered this poor girl and she has a right to know what our occupations are—”

“Fine, I’m an artist—”

“She already knows that!” Josephina groaned. “I’m a trained sexual therapist and a tantra educator.”

“Isn’t that usually termed nymphomaniac?” Roxanne teased when she noticed Howie immediately slouch within his seat in discomfort. Her aquamarine eyes electrified with curiosity while an impish smile played at her glossed lips. “Or is that kind of like how a cop is a law enforcement official?”

“She is not a nymphomaniac!” Howie blurted in horror.

“No, he is!” Josephina giggled, understanding the playful banter. “And I can show you my credentials if you like.”

“Are they inked on a condom wrapper? Or is that your business card?” Roxanne continued to jib.

Howie choked hard on his glass of wine. “Jesus have mercy—”

“How did you ever meet such a prude?” Roxanne finally laughed, shaking her head with disbelief when Howie lurched to clear the droplets of wine from the tablecloth. But upon hearing her question, he immediately fell back into his seat and looked petulantly toward his lover. “I just can’t see the need for a sex educator on the Backstreet Boy Tour, unless—”

“Don’t even,” Nick suddenly demanded, jabbing his fork in Josephina’s direction to quiet her. “Humiliate Howie with the story about how you two met. I can fuck myself over just fine without your stories.”

“Touchy,” Josephina pouted with disappointment, though she instantly brightened when she remembered the story she was given permission to share. “I met Howie—”

“Josephina Virginia Hernandez, I swear to God—”

“Then you can call and apologize to your mother later, Sweetheart,” Josephina promised, waving off Howie’s threat as if he were a mere gnat. “You see, Howie is the baby of his family. He has three older sisters and an older brother. His parents are both from large families too, so he has tons of cousins. Not to mention tons of nieces and nephews from the siblings. Anyway, one of his cousins was getting married and for a bachelorette party they wanted to be taught some tantric exercises for the bedroom as well as some toys that would be enjoyable. Adorable Howie, who was being such a sweetie, wanted to drop by a gift for his cousin. He walked in when I was demonstrating some of the more acrobatic moves and he’s been charmed ever since! Well, after he woke up from fainting that is...”

“Wow…” Roxanne whistled, holding a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing when Howie slid down into his seat in sheer mortification.

Uncomfortably clearing his throat when a long pause of silence stretched into what he thought was decades, Nick pushed himself away from the table. “As much as I enjoy listening to their sexual escapades, I think it’s time we take a walk, Roxanne.”
Chapter 7 by Anastacia
Chapter 7


“Are you sure you want to go on a walk? I mean, most of your dinner ended up in your lap instead of in your mouth. You must be starving—”

“I’m fine,” Nick insisted once more when he cast a glance over his shoulder, smiling when Roxanne offered what seemed to be a bashful smile. He supposed that he had been quite abrupt when he suggested that they take a walk, but Josephina and Howie had been far too embarrassing for words. Nevertheless, she made sure to take a step toward him when they continued along the shoreline, bumping their bodies so he would step away from their original path. When he stumbled slightly and then started to hop uncomfortably because of the burning sand, he was surprised to hear her laugh. It was not the usual laughs that he received from a woman. One filled with scorn because of his stupidity. Instead, she laughed at the predicament, enjoying his boyish nature. Somewhat relaxed, he offered himself several more chances to steal looks at her, mesmerized. He couldn’t believe that she had actually taken the time to join his friends and himself for dinner.

“—What are you thinking about at this very moment?”

“You,” Nick answered quite honestly before he had a chance to curb his thoughts like he had learned through the years. He knew that he had caught her attention, even if it wasn’t intentional, because she bumped into him when they stopped suddenly. Feeling her hand touch his elbow, he turned to face her. His face was burning with embarrassment, but it wasn’t as if he could change the course of the conversation. He had pried the can of worms open, at least that’s what Brian would have told him in a strained whisper, which would eventually turn into a roar of laughter. Why exactly would one want to open a can of worms, anyway? And how is it that worms became the bait of choice for fish? Worms who lived on the Earth, delicious meals for fish who lived in water? What fuck-head—

“What about me?”

“I just… I can’t believe you came to dinner.”

“Yeah, me either, considering the psychotic call your friend, Josephina, made. I swear to God that she makes an internet stalker look like a giggling school-girl cuddling a giant, floppy-eared bunny in a adorable baby’s outfit. But, she’s quirky. I like that.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hit star-69.”

“I did!” Roxanne exclaimed with a laugh, playfully bumping into him to steer them off course and in a direction of rocky terrain. “Then I called one of my friends at the police department to do a search on the number! Then a criminal background check!”

“You did not!” Nick exclaimed, his sapphire eyes widening in shock.

“No, but I could have…”

Chuckling, Nick turned to follow the shoreline once more. She had a way about her that put him in the utmost ease. She offered him liberation from the dark slums of his hellish relationship, showing him there indeed was a possibility of hope. And if he had the chance, he could rest his head in her lap, close his eyes, and drift off into a peaceful sleep that had escaped him for so many agonizing months. “Roxanne, can I ask you a question?”

“Do you expect me to be honest?” Roxanne questioned with an air of seriousness when they came upon a large boulder that jutted into the ocean. Sizing up the mass of natural material, she reached for Nick’s hand in hopes that he would balance her when she began to climb. Looking back, she offered a small smile when he brought both his hands about hers, despite the cast, and used his strength to help lift her. When she had sure footing, she pulled him upon the rock and looked for a comfortable place to sit.

“…Isn’t that kind of a stupid question?” Nick questioned with a soft grunt when she pulled on his hand, urging for him to take a seat. Awkwardly maneuvering so he wouldn’t be pitched from the boulder, he managed to sit next to her with only a slight sting flaming against his backside from the plop. Wiping his slightly gritty palm against his jean shorts, he looked to Roxanne as he explained, “I mean, doesn’t everyone want the truth when they ask a question?”

“Not everyone. Some people want the lies. They sometimes hope that the lies will make everything easier, y’know?” Roxanne explained, allowing her legs to hang off the rock as waves crashed upon them, washing the sand from her bare feet. “I used to be like that. I loved to live in this pretty dream where life was so sugar-sweet. Where I could never be hurt and life was, above all else, absolutely perfect. I swear, if I had anymore imagination, I would have been riding a unicorn with nothing but flowers and long curls covering my bare body. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay there…”

“Why not?” Nick murmured softly, surprised that she had yet to release his hand. Instead, she twined their fingers and brought his hand to rest upon her thigh. Her aquamarine eyes were transfixed upon the horizon as if she were searching for something she had long ago lost.

“Because others got hurt when I ran away,” she murmured, though she spoke into the ocean breeze to an unknown source of energy instead of him.

“What do you mean? Like… Is that why you’re part of the abuse team or what-the-fuck-ever?”

“If I’m honest with you, I’d like for you to be honest with me, Nick.”

“Okay…”

Shifting slightly, Roxanne made sure that she faced Nick while covering both of her hands upon his. She always kept her story a secret, especially when she spoke to other victims. Usually they did not want to hear about her miseries, but wanted to be comforted and speak their own story. So when Nick asked for the story, she was leery to present it, but the intensity of his eyes convinced her. He yearned to know more about her in a way that she might never understand. But, more importantly, he needed to hear that he wasn’t alone. So, slowly, she began:

“My father was abusive. He was an angry man with a lot of burdens piled on his shoulders. He worked hard and life was not fair. It’s not an excuse, but it was what I grew up with. When he was upset, he drank. When he drank, he turned into a monster. He was a monster more often than not. My entire childhood was spent walking on eggshells. At least, that’s what it felt like. I had to tiptoe around the house like there were bombs hidden underneath the carpets. One wrong step and the whole house would tremble under his power. When I lived at home, my mother and I took turns with taking the brunt of his anger. He’d switch between us, y’know? Like, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday were Mom’s days for getting beat. Then I took Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Sundays were usually peaceful, because that was the Lord’s day… But when I left for college, Mom was all alone and had nowhere to hide. He lost it during my first semester as a Freshman… I’m not sure what triggered it, but I do remember the phone call from the police… He beat my mother till there was nothing left to beat, then shot her and himself… A murder-suicide they called it. Chalked it up to the infamy of domestic abuse. Actually made the front page of our newspaper, but then disappeared just as quickly. No one likes to talk about what really lurks behind the cherry wood doors of suburbia.”

“Jesus…”

“Yeah…” Roxanne trailed, knowing it was a lot to absorb and not wanting to make Nick uncomfortable when he sought out the proper apologies. “I blamed myself for what happened for a long time… Did some things that I’m not very proud of. And, then, you know how people say that girls will always be attracted to men that emanate their fathers?”

“Yeah, which is creepier than Hell.”

“Even more so because it’s so damn true. Not to give you my whole sob story in vivid detail, but after my parents’ deaths, I did fall in love with an abusive man. He was so charming in the beginning and just little things would send off warning signals in my brain. Like he’d rather stay home instead of go out. He didn’t want me talking to others when we were together. When we were apart he constantly called… I thought it was cute that he was so possessive. That maybe it meant he loved me so much… I was studying nursing at the time. I knew all the warning signs of a dangerous man, but I couldn’t make myself leave. I guess I just wanted to stay in my dream world for a bit longer, because I let him take advantage. He cursed at me, but I wouldn’t leave. He yelled at me, but I wouldn’t leave. He hit me and I still wouldn’t leave. Well, then he pressured me into having sex several times, which is rape, and I was convinced I had gotten pregnant. I had hoped that he’d be excited and that he’d change. The baby would make everything better. Only, he was so jealous that he took a knife and stabbed it into my stomach… That’s the scar you saw at the beach… I blacked out after that. Thank God, y’know? The police said that the walls were just soaked in blood… Woke up a few weeks later in the hospital on a morphine drip.”

“Roxanne…” Nick couldn’t find the words to elaborate the pain that engulfed his heart. He knew that in many ways she had tried to lessen the violence of the story for his sake, so that her original story must have been absolutely brutal. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the suffering and terror that had gripped her throughout her life. His throat closed with an intense emotion that could not be placed. Instead, he held tight to her hands, not wanting to let her part from him.

“I know it sounds horrible, but I’ve grown in so many ways from that day. When I got my strength back up and helped the courts nail his ass to the wall, I went back to school. I got my degrees in nursing and knew that I wanted to help others who were caught in a whirlwind of hate. Helping others gave me a reason to live,” Roxanne explained with an encouraging smile, not wanting to delve into the details of the trial. How the sentence had been far too light considering the severity of her injuries. Though, even if she had been murdered, she was convinced that he would have perhaps gotten a lesser sentence than the one he served now.

“…Were you actually pregnant?” Nick suddenly questioned, unable to erase the question from his mind.

“I don’t really know… I never let the doctors tell me if I was… I couldn’t bear the pain… Though, I know in my heart I was…”

“Oh…” Nick whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some broken doll, Carter. I have baggage. Probably a lot of baggage that doesn’t all match. But I don’t let that stop me from enjoying life. I think that’s what fuels my energy to live life. To enjoy all those special times, because I know how easily they can be lost.”

“You’re a hell’uva lot stronger than I could ever be… Roxanne—”

“Roxie. Promise me that you’ll call me Roxie.”

Nick nodded in agreement, bringing her hands up to his lips to press the softest of kisses to her knuckles. “You’re a fucking brave chick. That’s for damn sure. Not even Tomb Raider could kick your ass!”

“Thanks,” Roxanne laughed, brushing her fingers down his stubble-ridden cheeks, knowing he was trying to lighten the subject matter. Of course, he did that because he knew what she would ask next. “Nick… As strong as you think I am, it took a shitload of years to get there. I almost died trying to get there…”

“But it’s the end that counts, right?” Nick interrupted, looking up from their twined hands.

“It’s knowing when to walk away so you don’t get hurt too terribly,” Roxanne murmured softly, brushing her thumb delicately over the back of his hand, wanting to ease his pain. “She’s gradually escalating, isn’t she? The first time she hit you, she apologized quickly and promised it would never happen again. I bet she bought you a really expensive gift and loved on you endlessly when you said it was okay… You thought it was just PMS… But, now, her blow-ups happen more frequently, right? She doesn’t apologize. She’s more violent. She uses more than just her fists. She probably threatens to kill herself when you try to leave and—”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like, Nick? Tell me.”

“I-I can’t,” Nick sputtered, the color draining from his face when she asked for the story. He had never been able to tell his story before. His heart screamed for the truth to prevail, but it never surfaced. Instead, he continued to walk through life with the pain engulfing his world. He wanted to speak to his friends, whom he considered extensions of his family, and tell them how painful his relationship was. How deadly it could be. But every time he looked to them, he knew the reality of making them confront the truth. “You just won’t understand.”

“Try me. Tell me about what happened when you came into the Emergency Room. Can you tell me about that? Just that?”

“I… You…” Nick allowed his voice to fall silent when Roxanne shifted his hand so the palm faced to the sun. Her fingers traced lightly over the natural lines of the palm, following the soft trails before creating her own patterns. The light brush of her fingertips soothed him. And when he looked to her and fell into the depth of her beautiful aquamarine eyes, his heart begged for him to do right by himself. For once. “We had late night radio interview. The host kept stalling us with more questions and the fans were so excited. So, we had to stay. God, it was so late when I got home, so I just figured that I’d call her in the morning. She had this thing about me calling to say I loved her, no matter where I was going. But it was so late. I knew she was sleeping, so I would just call her in the morning. What would be the harm? …She was already sleeping by someone else anyway… Never had a chance to call her that morning, though. I woke up with her standing over me. I sat up and her fist shot out. She’s like this explosion of energy. I couldn’t fight her off. I was told never to hit a woman. Then she started ripping off my clothes…”

“It’s not your fault, Nick,” Roxanne whispered, watching him choke on a hard sob. She reached out to brush away his tears, but he pulled back and stiffened his posture. “Oh, Nick…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nick assured softly, blinking furiously. “She’s on an island a million miles away for a few months. She’s doing the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated. She knows the photographer and he promised her the biggest spread… Of course, that just means that she’s sleeping with him during the breaks… She’s had a lot of lovers since she’s been with me… But, that time apart will make her want to leave, y’know? She’ll just forget about me.”

“She’s not going to forget about you, Nick. She has power over you and she likes that. She won’t give it up without a fight. She won’t give you up without a war.”

“Then you’ll just have to fight for me, right?” Nick attempted, quirking his dark blonde brows in a charismatic manner, hoping to tease her into a smile.

“You may be adorable, but not adorable enough to lose a limb over,” Roxanne snorted, leaning toward him to press a soft kiss against the side of his face.

“But I could manage to be your crutch, even with a broken arm!” Nick defended with a small pout, wishing above all else that his flirting had been somewhat alluring. It had been so long since he had willingly offered himself to a woman. He just hoped that Melanie would disappear. When she was in the beautiful islands, she would be so caught up within herself that he would be free. He knew it. “I’d even accessorize myself to coordinate your outfits! I’ll call every night!”

“Nick,” Roxanne laughed, leaning to rest her head on his shoulder to watch the fading sunset. “I wear pink every Friday, so you’ll have to go shopping. And you’re just damn lucky I can carry a six shooter in my pocket for special occasions and special people.”

“I’m special people then?”

“A very special people.”

Finding a true smile grace his handsome face, Nick brought his arm about her shoulders to pull her close. The sun was starting to dip lower as the tide found its way to the shore. The beat of his heart seemed to guide the waves rolling inward, giving him peace. He would find strength in Roxanne and ask for help. He would end it with Melanie while she was in the islands. He would be free. Finally.
Chapter 8 by Anastacia
Author's Notes:

Sorry that it took so long to post this chapter, but life truly does have a way of catching up to me. I'm trying to get back in the writing groove. So, hopefully we've got this under control. Thank you so much for all the reviews beforehand and I hope I continue to recieve them.

Allowing his cellular phone to close with a quick snap, Nick leaned back upon his large bed while folding his arms behind his head, grinning like a lovesick fool. He had just finished speaking with Roxanne, making the call on his own accord without any prodding whatsoever from Josephina. In fact, he was in his own home, away from his meddlesome “adopted parents.” That was a small triumph in and of itself. Not that he’d ever tell them that he had been skittish at first. That much was certain, especially when he found himself falling into a James Bond Persona, naming himself Carter, Nick Carter. But when Roxanne assured him that his call was welcome, perhaps more than just simply welcome… He relaxed. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the late night shift she was somewhat late for because of their conversing, they probably would have stayed on the phone for the entire night.

Drifting into a state of euphoria, he could continue to hear the lightness of Roxanne’s laugh drifting about the room. She was so carefree about life; despite the horrors she had shared with him during their prearranged dinner date. And, good God, was she fucking hilarious. When he had accidentally cursed and then cursed himself for cursing, she had laughed so hard, delivering her own colorful commentary amongst foul words till both were breathless from laughing. She didn’t care that he had flaws and he was quite certain that he might end up adoring all of hers. She didn’t care about wearing a mask around certain individuals. She was such a breath of fresh air compared to—

Jerking upward in surprise when Layla whined from outside the doorway, he had to smirk at the way she poked her head into the doorway. It was a cautious at first, just evaluating what awaited within the room. Then, with a quick sniff of the air, she searched for the real bitch of the manor. After all, when Melanie was spending the nights, Layla was forbidden to be anywhere near the bedroom. Melanie detested the puppy and did nothing to hide the disdain. She had actually tried to drop off Layla at the nearest pound. Thankfully, he had intervened, but from that day on, Layla would usually be chained outside, whimpering within the darkness.

Peering inside once more with her light crystal blue eyes, Layla became exuberant at the realization that Melanie had disappeared. Claws scraping across the hardwood floor, she galloped into the bedroom and took a large leap for the center of the bed. Hassling joyously, she pounced onto Nick’s chest and furiously licked his face with thanks. But when he felt his face start to grow overly damp from her slobbering, he groaned and attempted to push her away. But had managed to pin his cast and was anxious to continue showing affection. That is till the familiar ringtone sounded within the room that caused the puppy to dart away to hide

“TRAITOR!” Nick bellowed after Layla, jerking upright in bed to retrieve the cellular phone before it could plummet from the mattress. Noticing Melanie’s name scroll across the front LCD screen of his flip-phone, he sighed heavily. He had been trying all evening to make this particular call, but it seemed as if she had wanted to find him first. Whatever the case, he told himself, it had to end tonight. For the sake of his sanity and safety. It had to end. “…Hey, Mel…”

"Your phone’s been busy for hours.”

"I don’t have time to sit around and wait for you to decide to answer your phone—”

"Mel—”

“It’s not as if you have some important engagements to attend to."

"I’ve been busy—”

“Trying to make a career rise from the dead,” Melanie scorned with a tittering sound vibrating against her throat. “But, back to the real world. Do you know that I had to interrupt a very important conversation with one of the best photographers in the world to trudge back here and make a simple phone call to you? Do you know how embarrassing it is to explain how needy your boyfriend is?”

“No—”

“It makes me look so unprofessional

"I’m sorry—”

“Honestly, Nick, I don’t know why I put up with you anymore.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Nick struggled to find the appropriate words to lead into the conversation she was starting. In such a sharp stab of cynicism, she had given him the perfect opportunity to end the horrible affair. Simply respond with a congratulatory statement such as ‘Well, you don’t have to any more, Sweetheart,’ and follow with a witty laugh. Yet, he couldn’t form the words on his tongue and allow them to pass from his lips. Instead, his entire body tensed with fear and his heart fluttered erratically in the depth of his chest, practically leaping flight into his throat. His mouth suddenly dried to that of the Sahara Desert and his body shuddered. Years of abuse had made him weak.

Then the distinct sound of male laughter entered the background of her phone call. Lurching from the bed, he struggled to focus on the background noise and felt his anger rise. There was a shifting that could be heard through the connection and Melanie giggled after breathing an unfamiliar name. Then… Was that the sound of wet lips smacking together? Far too much saliva in that exchange, he was certain. And Nick’s stomach churned at the sound of an exhilarated growl muffled against what he assumed was his girlfriend’s throat.

"Who’s the playmate of the month?” Nick questioned dryly, though it came as no real shock. He was used to her philandering ways when she was out on location. She prided herself in being able to lure a man into her bed. It was as if they were fresh game to be mounted on her wall. Another notch on the bedpost. Nick was starting to think that she was fond of widdling with the way she added notches…

“His name is Pablo and he’s not the playmate of the month—”

"Wow,” Nick whistled without a chance to catch his annoyances with her blatant habit of cheating. “You’re just so generous, Mel, giving yourself to all the men of the shoot. What would we do without you?”

Melanie huffed with indignation and it was followed by a rough grunt from her companion. And, true to her nature, she saw Nick’s indignation at her behavior as one of his faults and not her own. It would always be his fault no matter what had occurred between them. “I truly cannot take your jealousy right now, Nick.”

“I am not—”

"And your constant nagging—"

"Again, I’m not—”

“I’ve got a lot of pressure on me right now and I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. This is one of the biggest shoots that could potentially set me up for the rest of my life. We’re talking a lot of zeros in my bank account. And I just don’t think you can possibly understand. You’re overly emotional and I hate the way you constantly breathe down my neck—”

"Melanie—”

“You’re just not mentally healthy and your anger—”

My anger—”

“I don’t think we should be together right now.”

“…What?”

“I love you so much and you will always have a part of me, Nick, but I need to have some space to catch my breath. I’d like to concentrate on my career and not worry about how you’re going to react with each photograph that reveals my sensuality. You understand, don’t you, Sweetheart?”

“…You’re just cutting me loose?” Nick questioned incredulously, wheezing slightly when he realized he had been holding his breath and loosening his tight grip on the phone when it started to slide from the sweat of his palm.

“I suppose,” Melanie murmured without much conviction when a soft murmuring evaded their conversation. “But, we’ll have to talk about this later. They want me on the set.”

“Mel, it’s over, right—”

"Bye, Sweetheart!” she cooed while quickly disconnecting.

Silence had evaded him for a long moment as he mulled over the length of the conversation. He wasn’t sure what had exactly brought on her change of heart, but it was comforting to say the least. The heavy boulder of weight that had been rested upon his shoulders seemed to crumble with each passing moment. And it felt good.  Perhaps God didn’t hate him so much… And, while listening to the irritating signal of a lost call, Nick could only smile with relief. “We’re over.”
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