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"Tell me about the day the world ended."

Can you believe that some people have the gall to say that it was all one big publicity stunt? I got two words for them:

Fuck that!

I admit that I would do a lot of crazy shit to promote our newest CD, but spending 32 days cramped in the basement of Stereo King? Not a chance, ya know what I’m sayin’?! Radio tour: yes. Fucking stereo shop hostage crisis: no way in fucking hell. I know people question my sanity at times, but there ain’t no way that I would sign myself on for spending that long confined in a small area with all those other people without the benefits of showers, clothing, and decent food. Not even if it sold us a million extra CDs.

You know, I never thought I could get tired of pizza, soda, or burgers, but I swore by the time it all ended I would have killed for a salad or even a large glass of milk. God. Milk. Apples. Oranges! Luxuries I have always taken for granted, but never again. I swear I’ll savor every last bite or gulp I take.

I also would have killed for a shower by the end of the first week. Damn but trying to clean up in a tinyass sink in a bathroom half the size of a broom closet just don’t work. Especially when you’re only given two minutes at a time in that tiny closet and you gotta stand there with some asshole with a gun watching you and aiming a gun at your head. You just wanna get in, get out, and get the fuck away from the psycho thug with the gun, ya know? So really all us hostages went about a month without getting to clean ourselves. We were all pretty rank by the time we finally got to get out of there, but that didn’t stop my mom or Mama Richardson from smothering me and Kev with hugs the moment we stumbled past the police line. And Kristen, Howie, and the Richardson brothers were right there to take up the slack the moment our moms let us go. Even Mama Littrell got in on the act and I swear she squeezed me so tight that I thought I was gonna bust.

Emergency crews were right there to herd me, Kev, and the other former hostages into waiting ambulances, but when we protested our family and friends ran interference for us. Besides, there wasn’t really any need for me to go to the hospital anyway. I didn’t need to get checked out. I was perfectly fine. Sane. Not gonna go on any rampage or anything like that. There isn’t nothing wrong with me that solid food, a long soak in the tub, and a week of sleeping in a nice comfy bed won’t heal. I figured I’d probably go see a shrink and everything sooner or later because it would make everyone else feel better, but I didn’t think I really needed it. I was ready to move on in life already and forget that the thing ever happened. My head got cleared the moment I walked out that door.

I know you’re thinking that after we spent a month in there, we’d just want to get as far the hell away from the place the first opportunity, but we weren’t ready to go yet. See, the ordeal wasn’t over yet. There were still hostages inside.

I couldn’t help but look over at Brian while we waited. He hadn’t greeted Kevin or me when we got out. He just kept staring at the building with a blank expression on his face. It probably looked to most people like he was in shock or had numbed his feelings or something, but I knew better. He had the look on his face that he always got when he extremely upset and didn’t want anyone else to see it. Now, I know that at a time like that it was perfectly justifiable for him to be visibly upset, but, see, years of being conditioned not to show that side in public trained him to hide his emotions away.

Leighanne had that training, too, but she wasn’t nearly as disciplined I guess. Her face was streaked with tears and I kept catching her giving Kevin and me these looks that seemed to be a mixture of sympathy, relief, and hatred all at the same time. Brian wouldn’t look at us at all. Even though it kinda hurt, I didn’t blame either of their reactions to us. We couldn’t give them the information they wanted to hear. I wish we could have, but the truth was that we didn’t have the answers.

You see…among the hostages still inside were the Littrell twins. Jennifer and Jordon. Jenny and Jordy. The twins Bri and Leigh jumped through every imaginable hoop to adopt. I don’t know if you remember all those protests and everything about them supposedly getting preferential treatment because of their celebrity while they were trying to adopt, but the tabloids really should have researched a little before starting those stories. I guess that wouldn’t have made such a “shocking” story though. Despite what those damned articles led you to believe, celebrity almost kept them from their dream of having children because the ignorance of the adoption agency thinking that they’d be all partying all the time and neglecting the kids. But they’d finally proven their worthiness and were blessed with the twins.

Now here Bri and Leigh were only a few months later, waiting to find out the fate of those twins they fought so hard for. The twins that they had entrusted to our care that night--the first time the fairly new and unbelievably overprotective parents had let the pair out of the house without at least one of them present at all times.

I wished I could go over and tell them that the twins were okay. But I couldn’t. If I’d had to venture a guess, I would have said that they were dead. At least I would have until I heard the voice on the radio.

I didn’t know there were other hostages left alive in the building until we heard the live broadcast coming from within. The voice on the radio was the most amazing fucking thing in the world. Despite the horrible state his voice was in, it gave me hope I thought was long dead.

Nick Carter was still alive.

It had been fifteen days since he and Hannah were taken from us. Fifteen fucking days. Me and Kevin were fairly certain that when Nick and Hannah were dragged from the basement and didn’t return…well…we assumed the worst. The assholes had already killed other hostages, so it just seemed impossible to imagine that they hadn’t killed Hannah and Nick, too, you know? Or the twins when they were taken away in the following days. We never heard the gunshots, but…we still had no reason to believe they were still alive. Until we heard Nick’s voice on the radio.

We hadn’t heard any of the others speak yet, but if Nick was okay, they had to be too, right? They were alive! And they were gonna get out just like we did. I couldn’t wait. I was going to have my Hannah back in my arms! I’d forced myself to accept that she was gone and that I would never see her again, but when I heard Nick, I felt my life start all over again. I was going to get Hannah back and I was going to hold her and kiss her and never let her go. I couldn’t believe she was still alive! My heart didn’t ache anymore as I listened to the sound of my “little brother’s” voice. He wasn’t dead. And my fiancé had to be with him.

“Well, here it is, people,” Nick’s voice was wavering slightly. “It seems that the plug is about to be pulled on my show. This last number goes out to everybody who’s been working so hard on getting me off the air,” he chuckles lightly.

From what I’d been able to gather from mom and Howie, our captors had been forcing Nick to make daily illegal broadcasts from inside. The point I guess was to put a name and a voice behind us hostages and to try to force negotiators to be more willing to give in to the demands being made. I mean, SWAT teams couldn’t exactly go bursting in and potentially get us killed. Any attempt to do so would probably cause a riot. Our fans would go ballistic if the FBI tried to do anything that would put us in more danger. Large groups still were gathered, watching the tense scene. A fucking month passes and there were still hundreds if not thousands of fans crowding the streets as close as they could while staying behind the police barricades. I’m pretty sure if any of our captors tried to get out and get past them, the crowd would tear them apart. Do we have amazing fans or what? Unfortunately, their presence had really complicated things. I know they definitely prolonged our captivity--probably by weeks even. But I’m thankful for them being there all the same, because it’s also quite probable that they saved our lives. I’m pretty sure without them standing guard over everything either the thugs would have killed us, or the SWAT teams would have in an attempt to storm the building.

“And also to AJ and Kev,” Nick continued his dedication. “I know you got out. Unless they lied to me again, but I choose to believe you’re out there and that you’re safe! I don’t blame you guys or anything, so don’t you go feeling guilty that you’re out there and that I’m…you know. I love you guys. I did my best I…I wish I could have…” his voice catches and for a moment he says nothing. “I’m sorry. I tried…I couldn’t…” he continued to stammer for a few moments before stopping again. I moved closer to the radio as if I was moving to comfort him through it. I wasn’t sure what it was he was sorry for, but I wanted to reassure him and tell him it was okay. “I just wish,” he finally concluded his little note to me and Kevin.

Nick took a deep breath. “Mom…I just wanted you to know that I was gonna come home for Christmas. I know I said I wasn’t going to, but…I changed my mind that morning.” I looked over at Jane Carter, who took a break from glaring at Kevin with disdain--for some reason it seemed she held him completely responsible for Nick’s situation--to turn to the radio and listen. Her expression softened at her son’s voice. “I bought the tickets and was gonna fly out in the morning. I…just wanted you to know that. I was gonna come home.” My eyes narrowed as I realized that he was talking about going home in the past tense. Sure we had missed Christmas, but it wasn’t like we weren’t going to take one hell of a long break from tour and go home now. I stared at the radio as if I could actually look through it and see the exhausted expression on Nick’s face. “There’s so much more I want to say, but they want me to wrap this up. So…real quick, Howie, I saw you that night. I hope you don’t feel guilty. None of this was your fault neither…I hope you know that.” Apparently Howie didn’t. He let out a strangled sob that apparently he’d been holding in for quite some time. I had no idea why he felt guilty, but I didn’t have time to ask right then. I was too focused on the radio. I had a very weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was something horribly wrong about the way Nick was talking. “Bri…Leigh…I’m sorry…I…I did my best…please forgive me,” his voice broke and he was silent again for a few moments. Leighanne let out a horrified sob and fell to the ground, only to be grabbed by Mama Littrell who pulled her into a tight embrace. Brian only sat staring blankly at the building. The twins? Please, God, let them be alive. Let that not have been what he was asking forgiveness about. Please, God.

“Hurry it up,” I could hear a hushed whisper.

Nick sucked in another breath. “It all ends in just a couple minutes. I’ve been instructed to tell the police not to try anything. They even suspect that you’re gonna double-cross them and we’re dead.”

I closed my eyes and bit back a big smile. Despite the horrible words he was saying, one word in particular stood out that made me want to celebrate. “We”. He said the word “we”. My Hannah. And hopefully the twins. “We.”

“So here it is. My last shining moment on the airwaves, so they tell me.” I licked my lips and moved closer to the radio as if I could hear him better. I hated the defeated tone of his voice, but hung on his every word. I waited in anticipation of what he would say next. But he no longer spoke. Instead he sang.

“That’s great it starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes, an aero plane and Lenny Bruce is not afraid…” he sang softly. “Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn--world serves its own needs, dummy serve your own needs…”

I had a very bad feeling about why he chose that song.

As does Kevin, who got up off his gurney and pushed past Kristen to join me next to the radio. He pulled the blanket the emergency teams had given him--the one identical to the one I was sporting--tighter around him, but I could still see him shivering as though he were cold. I knew better though. I reached out and took his hand. That way it was like we could share each other’s strength. Like we’d been doing for the past month.

“It’s the end of the world as we know it,” the haunted voice croons. I could hear someone in the background grumbling something but couldn’t make out what it was. “It’s the end of the world as we know it,” Nick continued to sing even as we heard someone moving closer to him. “It’s the end of the world as we know it…” My eyes widened and I squeezed Kevin’s hand as I heard the now familiar sound of a gun being cocked.

“And I feel fine,” Nick whispered just before there was the sound of a minor struggle as someone grabbed the microphone away and shut it off.

Then there was nothing left to listen to but dead air.

First session assessment: Patient has not yet confronted his grief. He has exhibitied a willingness to cooperate despite denial that therapy would be beneficial, but is not yet ready to open up about his feelings. Nonetheless, he has agreed to return for further sessions.