“Cut!”

“Thank God.” Brian mumbled as he broke out of his ‘Look, I can stare into nothingness and look serious at the same time’-pose. He immediately took his thin, green jacket off and accepted a nice warm sweater from a crew member. It was absolutely freezing, so in an attempt to get at least partly warm, he rubbed his hands together.

Someone shouted “Careful.” from only a few feet away. The voice belonged to James deLange, the director for the new Backstreet video “Cut you out of my life.”

“Yeah yeah, I know.” Brian replied as he put it on. “I don’t wanna waste another hour on getting my make-up redone.”

“Can someone go and tell Carter to get his ass to make-up?” James yelled.

“I’ll go.” Brian replied as he walked off the set and towards the four trailers that were standing about two hundred feet away.

This was the third and hopefully last day they would shoot this video and if Brian had a say, it would also be the last time they’d pick at a cemetary as ‘the perfect location’. It was giving him the creeps, especially because they were mostly there in the evening and during the first half of the night. Most of the time, he had a feeling he was being watched by someone other than the crew. The fog wasn’t helping either. Besides, Brian had a feeling dancing around on a cemetary was disrespectful towards the deceased and their families.

“Alright! Everyone, fifteen minute break!!” James bellowed in the background.

“I swear, two weeks from now, I’m still gonna hear him yell and scream..” Brian said to himself as he continued walking. Seconds later, he yawned and carefully rubbed his eyes, knowing James would notice when he had to return. He glanced at his watch to see how many hours they still had before sunrise.  “Three A.M., no wonder I’m beat.”

When he came to Nicks trailer, he knocked on one of the windows. It appeared all the lights were off, se expected the blonde to be fast asleep. If that was the case, he knew waiting outside would be useless. Whenever Nick was paying The land of Dreams a visit, a bomb could go off and he’d snore right through all the craziness. With that in mind, Brian immediately opened the door and walked right in.

When it shut behind him, he couldn’t see a thing, so his hand searched for the light switch.

“Nick, wake up! Yelling James wants you to do your part in a few! Nick?”

As he continued to search for the switch, he felt there was something sticky on the wall. When he flicked the light on, Brians eyes needed a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, and then he spotted him.

His best friend was all curled up on the couch. In itself, that was hardly disturbing, in fact, it was normal. It was when he noticed there was blood dripping from his once white t-shirt into a big puddle on the floor.

In response, Brian ran towards and kneeled before him. His jeans immediately absorbed Nicks blood until it was absolutely soaked. Brian shook his friend around, but Nicks body was completely limp and lifeless. He continued shaking him so fiercely, causing Nick to eventually fall off the couch and on top of Brian, who then rocked his friend in his arms.

He tried to say something to Nick, anything, but he couldn’t. His mouth was dry and it felt as if there was a lump in his throat that blocked his airways. The state of shock wouldn’t let Brian do anything but hold him. It wouldn’t even let him cry.

A few minutes later, he realized he had to tell someone. See if the others were alright, maybe even find the person who did this to Nick. What if that person was still around somewhere on the set? He had to warn A.J. and Howie, keep them safe. Keep himself safe. He couldn’t stay there. There was nothing he could do for Nick anymore.

Carefully he rolled Nick on his back and looked in his eyes one last time. What he saw in them, sent shivers down his spine. Not a hint of peace, but pure terror. Those last minutes of his life, Nick had obviously been terrified. Not wanting anyone else to see what he had been forced to see, Brian made sure Nicks eyes were closed and he covered his body with a blanket he found on his bed.

After taking one last look at his friend, he put the blanket over his face. Brian got up and turned around. He was shocked by what he saw. His mouth dropped and his body attempted to scream, but failed miserably. Instead, he threw up over his own shoes. The killer had written a message on the wall and door.  And it looked like it was written in Nicks blood.

I want it this way

Two down, two to go..

“Oh my God.” He softly said and wiped his mouth. He gasped for air and knew he had to read it again. Two down, two to go. He had to get to the others. Hopefully it was just a lie and Howie and A.J. were alright, sitting in their own trailer watching tv, reading a book or sleeping the night away.

He ran out the trailer and almost broke down the door of A.J.’s temporary home away from home. He called his name, but again, didn’t get a response. His heart stopped for a second, fearing the offender had already taken A.J’s life.

The tv was still on some music channel, shining a soft gleam around the trailer. Brian hardly noticed though. As soon as the light came on after flicking the switch, bloody footsteps on the floor caught his attention. They were heading out the door, meaning he was probably too late.

As he followed the footsteps with his eyes, he saw the killer had again left a bloody message on the wall.

Leave me here, in pieces..

Brian shook his head as if it would erase this horror. There was no time to think about this. He had to get to A.J. It only took him a few seconds to find him, because one of his hands stuck out from behind the couch. Brian ran towards him and found A.J. laying on his stomach, again in a puddle of blood, his hands stretched out before him as if he had tried to crawl away. Brian kneeled down and tried to find a pulse in his friends neck.

As soon as he touched A.J., his head came loose from the rest of his body and slowly rolled towards Brian, stopping when it hit his foot. In response, Brian screamed and jumped up, accidentally kicking the head and sending it halfway across the room. Only then did it hit him. The killer had decapited A.J., giving him not even the slightest chance of survival.

The reality within the message that was left, finally sank in and he threw up for the second time in under fifteen minutes. This was just perverted, sadistic, too cruel to be true. But it was. A.J. staring at him from across the room while his body was still behind the couch was all the proof Brian needed to know this was really happening.

He fell to his knees, and a feeling of numbness came over him. Two of his friends were gone, it was too much to handle. In the back of his mind, he knew he had to find out of Howie was alright, but he wasn’t sure he could take it if he would find his lifeless body too.

So he just sat there. Defeated and in shock. Minutes later, he heard footsteps coming closer to the trailer. He knew he had to get moving. It could be the offender, he thought. For a second, he figured why would he even bother to escape? He or she would get to him sooner or later. He just knew it.

But instinct kicked in right on time for him to get up and hide behind the couch, this time his jeans were taking in some of A.J.’s blood.

‘One bloody Backstreet, coming right up’, Brian thought as he sat there waiting for the inevitable. But the footsteps stopped and the person they belonged to, seemed to walk away again.  

But then he heard it. Someone nearby was screaming, but the sound was muffled. Brian instinctively knew it was Howie. The crew was on set, waiting for Nick to get out of make-up and he could still hear James yelling something about the lighting.

Brian froze. All he could do was listen to the faint screams. Even though he wanted to get up and attempt to save Howie, he couldn’t. His body didn’t allow him to.

Then it stopped.

And ironically, Brian could immediately move again.

He didn’t want to go to Howie’s trailer, but he felt he had to. Maybe, just maybe, he could still save him.

He slowly got up, walked out of one trailer and into the next. But before he could find another light switch, he was punched right in the face and fell to the floor unconsciousness.

A few hours later and a few states away, Kristin Richardson smiled as she put her head to rest on a nice cool pillow. She had just ended a simple conversation with someone whom had delivered an short, but life-changing message.

 “It’s done.”

She had been waiting for this. They deserved it, all four of them. They had it coming, ever since Kevin was told they didn’t want him to rejoin the group at this point in time.

During a conference call, she overheard Howie say: “It’s not an option.”

That was what put her over the edge. Her husband definitely deserved it. He had every right to rejoin his brothers on their journey. He had been their caretaker for years. He had been their fatherfigure, brother, friend and sometimes he even saved their asses.

And they were arrogant enough to think they could get away with it. That everyone would simply accept their answer and move on. Maybe Kevin would, but she sure as hell wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Her husband walked in the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He walked towards her and asked her if she had taken her medication.