Nick Carter walks himself into a nightclub and goes straight over to the bar, typical of him in the past few months. It doesn’t matter what exactly it is… as long as it’s alcohol. He leaves at about 2am, thoroughly snozzled, unable to walk straight and unable to speak coherently, also typical of the past few month.
‘Maybe it’s pressure’ says AJ
Brian shrugs ‘Maybe’
‘He’ll stop once the tour starts’

And so, the talk of Nick and his alcohol problem stops; stored in the back of the closet as other more pressing matters come to mind. The tour starts and Nick appears more sober; no one bothers to check up on him, and so he carries on, finding himself hiding the vodka anywhere he can, becoming more secretive, and craving when on stage.

‘Nick’s acting a bit funny’ Kevin says ‘We should talk to him’
‘Leave him’ replies AJ, ‘He’s just trying to get used to touring again’
‘O yeh... of course’ replies Kevin, both men forgetting that Nick has had the most experience in touring, after his solo album during their break.

Nick disappears 10 minutes before they are due to go on stage and the boys spend 5 minutes scouring backstage for him, until he himself turns up in front of them, ready to go onstage.
‘Where have you been? You had us worried’ says Howie
‘Nowhere’ Nick replies blandly
‘Nick… you smell of alcohol’
‘Dutch courage’ Nick replies before walking on stage.

The days are now beginning to merge as the tour picks up speed, where the other backstreet boys are getting tired, Nick remains nonchalant, often staring blankly in to space and generally responding no one. He sits often now to plan, how he can hide the alcohol, when the boys won’t be watching; and how long it’ll be until he can drink freely again.

26/5/2006 - He stands on stage; it’s their last concert; the big finale; the gig that separates him from freedom. He stares at the thousands of faces looking at him; expecting from him, and tries to smile. The concert is standard; nothing special; nothing out-of-the-ordinary, nothing to make it stick in anyone’s memory. The last song; Nick breathes a sigh of relief; this is it; the end. I Want It That Way. His head throbs as he hears Brian sing the opening verse; what should he be doing? Where should he be going? The other boys are walking forward, but Nick stands rooted to the spot, unable to move. The lights dazzle him as he tries to look for help; and the band plays louder in his ears. He can feel everyone turn to stare at him; as the music continues to play, but no one sings. Why is no one singing? Is he meant to sing? What are the words? He feels strangely detached as he steps forward.

The crowd screams as Nick Carter, baby of the Backstreet Boys topples forward and lies still on the floor; the music still playing vocally unaccompanied in the background.

The panic is blatant in Kevin’s voice as he repeatedly asks the Doctor what’s wrong with Nick.
‘He’s Ok now, Mr. Richardson’
‘Yes; but why did it happen? What’s wrong with him?’ Kevin’s voice now rises a few octaves
‘Alcohol overdose’ the Doctor says before excusing himself and going back in to the room

‘rehab’ says AJ; ‘It worked for me’
‘I don’t know’ replies Brian, ‘He seemed OK up till now’
‘So did I then’
‘How could we let this happen... again?’ asks Howie
An unhappy silence fills the hospital room

Nick opens his eyes slowly, allowing them to adapt to the brightness
‘Hey little bro; are you Ok?’
Kevin’s talking to him; he tries to talk, but no words come out; instead he nods
‘You had us worried there Frack’ says Howie grinning
Nick makes no response; the boys exchange worried looks and silence fills the room once again.
Kevin takes a deep breath, someone has to get this over with… and as usual he is left with the duty of it.
‘We know you have a problem Nick, and we know you need to go to rehab; but because it’s not been a long-term thing we’ve decided to let you go on holiday for a month; and we’ll check up on you then to see how things are’ he speaks firmly and directly to Nick
The boys murmur agreement, but Nick stares at Kevin with his blue eyes, slightly misty and uncomprehending
‘We’re not going to push you in to anything, but if you ever need us, we’re all here’
Again there is a chorus of agreement

‘HELP ME’ Nick screams inwardly at Kevin, as Kevin changes topic to the statement for the press. ‘No, No, Kevin HELP ME, I have a problem, I can’t do this alone. I need HELP’ the words echo harmlessly around his head as the Doctor ushers his band mates out of the hospital room.

Nick turns the key to his apartment and steps inside, out of hospital and away from the glare of the media. A strange sense of satisfaction comes over him, as he realises he has come out of everything unscathed; and he walks over to the fridge to grab himself a bottle of white wine for him to share with himself.

The days pass faster now that Nick has nothing to do and no restrictions on his alcohol intake. No longer does he have to idea from the ever-present band mates; and no longer does he care what time of the day he starts; for the simple reason, he doesn’t have any concept of time left.

The night is warm, and Nick wakes up at about 1am with a sick feeling in his stomach. He reaches out immediately to the bottle next to his bed; his shaking hands instead of grasping it send it crashing to the floor; the glass shattering as it hits the floor. He crawls over to the other side of the bed to get out; falling over the duvet cover and lying sprawled on the floor for a few minutes staring at a stray piece of glass, before staggering to his feet and lurching in to the bathroom to throw up.

‘This is the music for one last cry’ Nick’s alarm goes off, for the first time in weeks and he wakes up more easily than he has in the past few months. He walks back to the bathroom; and washes his face, then looks at his reflection. How weird; that’s not me in the mirror; he thinks.
‘For one last cry’ he hears AJ’s voice through the music
This is his bit next; he closes his eyes to sing; ‘Just one last cry’
He gasps violently. What just happened? Where was his voice? He stares at his reflection in alarm; his breath coming in short gasps. He walks numbly back to his bed; not flinching as a piece of glass embeds into his foot. He slumps down next to his bed; and switches of his alarm, filling the room with silence. He stares at the piece of glass in his foot and his eyes flood with tears. 26/6/2006.