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Chapter Three: Can't Forget


"D? Hello? Yo, Earth to Howie! Come in, Howie! Is anyone in there?" AJ McLean waved his hand in front of Howie's face as their tour bus came to a complete stop. The older man had slipped into a zombie-like trance about an hour before reaching their destination, ignoring all conversations occurring on the bus.

"Hmm? What?" Howie started as he focused in on a tattooed hand in front of his eyes. "Aje, cut it out!"

"Well I had to make sure you were still among the living," AJ scoffed, pulling away. "What's up with you lately?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. What did you want to tell me?"

"We're in Minneapolis now. Everyone's off the bus already and I wanted to make sure you didn't stay behind like in Milwaukee."

"Oh. Thanks."

"Are you sure you're okay?" AJ raised an eyebrow, studying his fellow bandmate. He and Howie along with Brian Littrell, Kevin Richardson and Nick Carter had formed a singing group called the Backstreet Boys back in 1993 and became steadily popular with their emotional ballads and catchy dance songs. They were now touring after a two year hiatus with a new album, Black & Blue, and the fans were hungry for the five men like wolves after prey.

"I'm positive. Just a little tired from the ride, that's all," Howie lied, feigning a smile. Throughout their career, each had encountered cruel and vicious opinions about themselves, but it seemed to Howie that his were the worst.

"Oh, alright. Well come on, Kev's going to have a heart attack if we don't get inside," AJ pulled on Howie's arm and they walked off the bus. They walked into the lavish hotel and towards the large elevators.

"You go on upstairs, J. I'll be there in a minute, I want to walk around the hotel."

"Do you want me to call Lenny down here?"

"Nah, I'll be fine."

"Okay," AJ shrugged and walked onto the elevator, leaving Howie alone with his thoughts as he wandered through the nearly empty building, thankful that no one was recognizing him. The entire ride to Minnesota, he had been drowning in past memories of ridicule and pain. Of course, none of his friends caught on. They just thought happy-go-lucky Howie D. was daydreaming about love and romance, living up to his Latin Lover reputation.

"Howie! Howie, wait!" a voice called from behind and he turned around in confusion. Someone was actually demanding his attention? What he saw was a young woman about his height with long, jet black hair and sparkling hazel eyes. She was beautiful and when she smiled, it was like a ray of light. "I'm glad you stopped! I got to meet the other four boys and was hoping I would see you!"

"You are talking to me, right?" Howie asked, looking behind him as the woman laughed.

"Of course I'm talking to you! My name is Charlotte," she held out her hand.

"I'm Howie, but I think you already know that," he shook it gently with a small smile.

"Yes, I do. Could I get your autograph and a picture with you?"

"Definitely," Howie pulled a Sharpie out of his pocket and began signing the booklet Charlotte had produced. Sure enough, all the other guys had signed it. "So, you're coming to the show tonight?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world! I'm pretty happy with my seats and being able to meet all five of you made this the best day," Charlotte smiled as Howie handed her the booklet. She wrapped a slim arm around his waist and held the camera out in front of them before resting her head on his shoulder. "Say cheese!"

"Cheese!" he chorused with her, keeping his arm securely around her middle. The camera flashed and they let go. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Charlotte?"

"Well, I have two things. One... make this concert and every other one throughout the world the best. Make it so that every fan walks out of the arena thinking that it was the best night of their lives," Charlotte replied, turning quite serious which surprised Howie a little. She had been so cheerful and bubbly when she asked for him. Nevertheless, he still nodded in agreement.

"Of course I will."

"Two... can I have a hug?" she asked, switching her mood back to happy like a lightswitch.

"How can I say no to a beautiful girl like you?" Howie smiled, letting go of his insecurities for a moment. He reached over and enveloped her into a warm embrace, actually smelling her perfume when he heard the soft clinking of metal. He didn't think anything of it until something pulled on his ponytail. "OW! What the--"

"I won the bet! I won! Not only did I sucker you into all this shit, but I got your ponytail!" Charlotte cackled, holding up Howie's curly hair, still secured with a black hair tie.

"You... you... you..." was all Howie could utter, holding a hand back to where his hair once was.

"Oh, please! Like anyone gives a shit about an ugly troll like you," Charlotte rolled her eyes, spitting in his face. "Just do us all a favor and jump off a bridge!"

"You..."

"Fuck off and die!" she turned and ran out of the hotel, still laughing with victory. Howie looked around and realized no one had seen what happened, so he took the sleeve of his button-down shirt and wiped the saliva off his face. Such a thing had happened to him before, but he snapped inside and craved for a release from the pain. Turning, he quickly strode towards the elevators and pressed the correct floor. It seemed to all be in slow motion as the elevator finally stopped and he ran to his room, unlocking the door and closing it behind him. Breathing heavily, he lurched for the bathroom, where all his toiletries were already placed on the counter.

"Ugly troll... die... pain... need to stop... no more... cut... bleed... take the pain..." he muttered, searching the bags until he pulled out a loose razor. Pushing up his sleeve, he placed the sharp metal to the delicate skin of his wrist that was littered with scars. Taking a deep breath, he dug the blade into his wrist and made a deep cut. Gasping in pain, he merely watched the blood seep out of a moment, as if his problems were flowing out. Snapping out of the trance, he reached over and grabbed a towel, pressing it against the wound. Tears finally trailed down his pale cheeks and he began to sing in a shaky voice. "This is the music for one last cry... this is a prayer that tomorrow will help me leave the past behind..."

~*~*~*~

"Stephanie! Damnit, woman, you better be cleaning the bedroom when I get in there!" a man growled, slamming the door open. "STEPHANIE!"

"What?! Oh God, Michael! You're home," Stephanie jerked awake, seeing her boyfriend of two years stand in front of her with clenched fists and dark gray eyes. He stood over six feet tall with bulging muscles and a terrible temper, much like her father. "I'm so sorry, I was cleaning the whole house and I fell asleep--"

"I don't want to hear your fucking excuses. Didn't I train you good enough when we began dating? I go to work, you stay home to cook and clean. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Michael, please--"

"Don't you talk back to me," he raised a large hand and punched her square in the jaw, but not hard enough to break the delicate bone. "I should have known you would slip up sooner or later. Can't do anything right, can you? Stupid bitch! Get up, it's time for your punishment."

"No--"

"Get up, if you know what's good for you. I'm not fucking around!" Michael reached down and yanked her up, almost popping her shoulder out of joint. He began dragging her to the closet, where he kept the belt.

"Please, don't! I'll do anything, please!" Stephanie begged, trying to get out of his tightening grasp. She failed to do so as he threw her into the corner of the walk-in closet, belt ready in his right hand. "MICHAEL, DON'T!"

"You brought this on yourself," he raised a hand high above his head before swinging it down onto her back, which was unprotected from her tanktop. The metal clasp and leather bit into her soft skin, creating a large welt and oozing blood. He did this over and over, gathering more energy from her screams of pain. She huddled into a ball on the floor, but he didn't stop the punishment.

"STOP! PLEASE, STOP! MICHAEL, I'M BEGGING YOU!" she shrieked, the pain almost blinding as he continued to beat her.

"You. Need. To. Learn. A. LESSON!" he accented each word with a whack of the belt.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" she reached out and kicked him in the knee.

"Shit!" he cursed, falling to one knee as the other gave out. Glaring at his girlfriend in disbelief, he reached over and pulled her towards him, relying on his fists to make her learn who was the master. He pounded on the tender tissue, keeping her body pinned on the ground. "Stupid bitch! You just made it worse!"

"NO, STOP--" she was interrupted by the phone.

"You're so lucky I have to answer that," he seethed, getting to his feet and walking into the bedroom. After a quick conversation, he peeked back into the closet. "I have to go and do some business. Clean yourself up and make this place spotless before I come back. You hear me?"

"Yes, Michael. I hear you," she whispered, slowly sitting up on the floor.

"Pathetic, useless bitch," he sneered, leaving the room and heading out to the car.

"Oh God..." she let herself break into heavy sobs, every inch of her body aching with a raw pain as she drew her knees up to her chin. How she let herself get into such an absuive relationship, she'll never know. Ana tried to get her to leave so many times, but each was a failure. "If You're trying to punish me for making bad mistakes... You're doing a damn good job..."

Stupid bitch! Can't you do ANYTHING right?

My, my, it seems that my little daughter is getting a little pudgy.

Why don't you just kill yourself so everyone can be happy, Baker?!

It isn't attempted rape if she wanted it!

"I'm going to be sick," she moaned as memories flooded into her beaten brain and she scrambled her way painfully into the bathroom where she vomited into the toilet. Once she emptied everything and then some, she slumped against the cold tile as more tears fell. "I can't take this anymore... I need something to make all this... make this..."

Cocci, promise me you won't do this again.

CT--

PROMISE ME.

Okay, okay... I promise I'll never cut myself again.

"I'm sorry CT. I need it," she whispered, opening the cabinets under the sink until she found a single item that 'helped' her through so much as she grew up. A sharp, glittering razor from Michael's shaving kit. Looking down, she saw that her arms were littlered with scars, so she placed the blade on her thigh and sliced a clean but deep line. More tears poured from her eyes as she did it three more times, the blood pooling around her leg on the white floor. Pulling out large wads of toilet paper, she pressed them against the cuts and gasped loudly from the stinging sensation, which was worse than the actual cutting action. She never heard the front door open and close, nor the footsteps heading upstairs until she heard a familiar voice.

"Holy shit... oh, Cocci..."

"CT? I'm so sorry, I just had to..." Stephanie trailed off helplessly as she looked up at her best friend of fifteen years as she still held the toilet paper against her cuts. "Michael hurt me and I couldn't take--"

"You should have called me," Ana frowned, kneeling down to Stephanie's level to check the damage. She had gone to college to become a nurse while Stephanie got a degree in journalism and worked for a large newspaper before Michael made her quit.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"You know you would never bother me, Cocci. Never!" Ana ran a hand through her best friend's long and sweaty locks. "Let me take care of you. Come over to my house."

"I can't. If I'm not home when he gets back--"

"How long are you going to let him hurt you?"

"Ana--"

"Please, I don't want to get a call in the middle of the night saying he finally killed you or be working at the hospital and see you get wheeled in on a stretcher. Get away from him, he doesn't love you."

"What if he comes to get me?"

"We'll call the police."

"...Okay..."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Alright, we've got to stop these cuts from bleeding," Ana lifted the toilet paper to check the damage. No stitches would be needed. "Do you need anything from here?"

"No... it's all Michael's. He made me keep my things in storage."

"Then we'll get those tomorrow, alright?"

"Okay..." both women were quiet for a moment. "CT?"

"Yeah, Cocci?"

"Thank you."