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Chapter Nine
Point of View: Nick

I was awake, I just couldn't open my eyes yet. They felt glued shut. The pillow under my head smelled foreign and I could feel cold IV tubes taped up the length of my forearm. Shit. What happened?

I groaned and tried to shift myself in the bed, but every muscle felt heavy, like I'd been weighted down. My eyes finally blinked opened and I saw the room, dark and plain, and Brian, sitting next to me, his head bowed. "Brian?" I whispered. My throat was raw and the word literally hurt coming out. I reached a heavy hand to my neck, covering my adam's apple and frowned. Double shit. They had to pump my stomach again, I realized, recognizing the feeling.

Brian's head popped up, his eyes were bloodshot and sunken in. He'd evidently only slept in small spurts beside me like this all night. "Oh thank the Lord," he muttered, seeing that I was awake. He stood and reached up, lowering my hand from my neck to the bed gently. "They had to pump your stomach, buddy," he said, "You had a ton of alcohol and you mixed it..." his eyes were very disappointed.

"I'm sorry," I croaked quietly, staring up at him.

"You could've died," he answered flatly.

"I didn't mean to."

Brian sighed, "I know, I just... It's frustrating because it seems like you don't care, Nick. I mean we keep telling you this stuff is going to kill you, and you keep getting into these places where you're getting your stomach pumped or you're experiencing the hangover from hell... I mean it was just like two days ago that --"

"I know," I said, holding up a hand to stop him.

Brian pursed his lips and shrugged, "We worry about you, Nick. A lot."

"Where's Krystal?" I asked, suddenly realizing that if I was fucked up, she probably was, too. We'd done the exact same amount of stuff. Hadn't we?

"You mean Whorebitch?" Brian asked, scowling.

"I told you guys not to call her that," I answered, frowning.

Brian shrugged, "Sorry, but she is. She had to get back to her precious tour," he spat the word, "She couldn't wait. She said she's sorry and she," he did bunny ear quotes in the air as he said the next word, "loves you, and will call later."

I was relieved that she wasn't sick, too. "Well she's busy," I said, excusing her for having to go, "And it's not like us where there's more than one of us to back up if one of us is sick and has to skip a show," I added, "She's the only one..."

"Her boyfriend is in the hospital," Brian answered, "I think she can cancel or postpone one show for that." He rolled his eyes.

Krystal, I was sure, had felt very bad about leaving. It didn't matter what Brian, the negative Nancy, thought about her. Krystal did love me. She understood me, was more. I knew it. She meant so much to me, I needed her like most people need oxygen.

"Thanks for staying with me Brian," I said as he sat down in the seat again. His Bible was sitting on the nightstand and there was a tray with a half-eaten sandwich on the rolling table thing beside him. I could tell he'd kind of taken up residence at the bed side.That is so like him, I thought.



I was gonna be stuck here for another day. Brian eventually had to go to catch up with the other guys in Seattle. He wasn't looking forward to the duty of informing the fans that I wasn't going to be there. Plus they got to release an official press release on why I wasn't there.

Nick mixed alcohol with a prescribed medication for his ADHD, the release claimed, It was a mistake that he deeply regrets. It really had us all worried, but Nick is recovering well and can't wait to get back on the tour, where he says he'll be avoiding alcohol at the remaining after parties.

Yeah, right.

I couldn't help but feel a little cynical that the fellas had all gone on to Seattle without me, and yet had the gaul to be upset that Krystal had gone back to her tour. They'd done the exact same thing, really, they just had the extra time to kill to leave an ambassador behind for a few hours, that's all. I couldn't help but think that if I hadn't woken up when I did, Brian would've eventually taken off for his flight anyways.

By mid-afternoon, I was feeling restless. I'd tried calling Krystal like twelve times but she must've been busy because she wasn't answering. I tried calling the guys, but they were busy, too. So I just laid there, flipping through the TV channels. That was how I saw the news.

"Hi I'm Casey and you're watching MTV news. Today we've got some interesting footage for you from our favorite Hollywood couple of the moment - Nickstal. A photo popped up of Krystal and I at an awards show a couple months ago, where I was kissing her cheek and she was grinning, dressed in a really sexy low-cut purple dress.

Casey continued, "The couple was spotted at the Backstreet Boys' after party at Struck, a club in Lincoln." A photo of Krystal on her knees in front of me on the dance floor as she dropped it flashed on the screen. Because of the angle and the particular shot, it didn't exactly look like we were dancing. I felt my stomach kind of roll a little

"Talk about PDA," laughed Casey. "But the real kicker was the end of the night, when fellow BSB member, AJ McLean, found out Nick was flying higher than a kite!"

The video of the fight made me want to throw up. I was yelling, hardly coherently, my words all mixed together, barely distinguishable. "Mmbusy," I yelled, turning away. AJ had reached for me, and I tried to punch him. He only barely dodged it, and then AJ charged at me, and I fell down, already wobbly when he'd gone at me. My head bounced on the cement, and AJ was suddenly yelling, asking if I was okay, telling me to wake up.

I remember none of this, I thought, frightened.

"The official story from camp Backstreet is that Nick mixed alcohol and prescribed medication for treatment of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder," Casey said. She paused. "Right."

I frowned, staring at my hands. Casey was right. Very few people would believe that. I'd used that excuse when I'd gotten a DWI a couple years ago. Eventually, I had to learn my lesson about mixing substances, didn't I?

"And what is Krystal saying about the whole ordeal?" Casey asked.

I looked up as the camera flashed to a shot of her pushing through a throng of fans into a hotel, carrying her purse and her eyes covered by thick black sunglasses. Her lower lip trembled as whoever was behind the camera asked, "How do you feel about Nick Carter's meltdown last night at Struck?"

"We've talked," Krystal said, barely slowing, "And I told him I can't be with him anymore if he's going to keep abusing alcohol and... doing drugs," she said the words like they were poison. She frowned, "I thought he loved me more than this." She turned, overwhelmed, and disappeared into the hotel.

Casey refilled the screen. "Looks like there's trouble ahead for Nickstal," she ended the story.

I turned the TV off, feeling cold. I rolled onto my side, pulled the blankets up to my chin, and watched the IV drip into it's clear line, wishing they'd given me pain killers.