Nick’s first step came later that day, when his nurse helped him sit up on the side of his bed. Brian had warned him it would feel like his insides were about to fall out onto the floor, and it did. Besides being scary, it hurt, too. But after being forced to lie in bed for so long, it also felt good to get his feet back on the floor.
After that first taste of freedom, Nick was eager for more. Each day, he pushed himself a little further. The day after surgery, he was able to get out of bed and shuffle across his room to a recliner, and by the third day, he was taking slow walks up and down the hallway.
It was weird seeing winter holiday decorations on the walls. It had been Halloween the last time he’d set foot outdoors, and now it was already December. Nick had spent the whole month of November in a hospital bed and completely missed Thanksgiving. But the festive wreaths and garlands gave him a new goal: to be home by Christmas.
He threw his whole heart into his rehabilitation, doing the deep breathing exercises the respiratory therapist had recommended to keep his lungs clear, even though it made his chest hurt, and pushing through the pain of physical therapy to help his muscles recover from a month of bed rest. Lauren and Brian became his biggest cheerleaders, providing him with the support and encouragement he needed to make it past each milestone.
His emotional recovery did not follow the same linear path as his physical recovery. There were ups and downs, breakthroughs and setbacks. On his good days, Nick felt grateful to be alive and hopeful for the future, but then there were bad days, when he was overwhelmed by depression and anxiety. Sleep didn’t come easy, but on the nights when he did manage to drift off, he had recurring nightmares about what Dani and Elizabeth had done to him and would wake up drenched with sweat, panic-stricken to find himself in a hospital bed. It always took him a few minutes to remind himself that he was in a real hospital this time, being taken care of by people who were not out to hurt him. Still, he maintained a certain degree of suspicion, demanding to see the label on every drug he was given and asking Lauren to look up the side effects online. He knew he was probably being paranoid, but after what he had gone through, no one gave him a hard time about it. The counselor who came to see him daily told him this was normal and encouraged him to keep talking about the trauma he had endured.
Talking about it was hard, but it did seem to help. Two days after Nick regained consciousness, he was introduced to Detective Overton, who drove all the way from Key West to interview him about his experience. By then, Nick was being weaned off the morphine, and the fog in his brain had lifted so that he was clear-headed once more. Haltingly, he described his memories of what had happened to him, beginning with meeting Dani and her husband on Halloween night and ending with his realization that she was in on the scheme to fake his heart failure. Afterwards, he felt a sense of relief, as if the weight of what she had done to him had been lifted off his chest. Like a bird released from its cage, his heart was finally free.
It also helped having friends and family around him. After spending a week at home with their own families, Howie, Kevin, and AJ flew back to Miami for a visit. All three of them burst into Nick’s room at once, ignoring the ICU’s “two visitors at a time” policy. If Nick’s nurse noticed, she didn’t say anything.
“Nicky-Nicks!” exclaimed AJ, as he strode up to the recliner where Nick was sitting. He started to lean in for a hug, then hesitated and reached for Nick’s hand instead. “I’d hug you, but I don’t wanna hurt you, dude,” he said.
Nick nodded, holding the heart-shaped cough pillow protectively over his chest. “Yeah, maybe wait another week or two for that hug, bro - but thanks anyway.”
“It’s good to see you, Nicky,” said Howie with a smile, giving Nick’s hand a squeeze. “You look a hell of a lot better than last time.”
Nick forced a laugh, clutching the pillow tighter to keep his rib cage contained. “Yeah, I bet.”
Kevin’s eyes were bright with tears when he finally came forward. “You know, Nick, I’m gonna have a lot more gray hairs now ‘cause of you,” he teased, his voice trembling as he tried not to cry. He put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “You sure gave us a scare, little brother.”
A lump rose in Nick’s throat. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry for anything,” said Kevin, shaking his head. “You survived, and that’s all that matters. We’re sorry for what you went through.”
Nick nodded, but he felt embarrassed about getting himself into such a bad situation and guilty for bringing the rest of the group into it, too - especially Brian. He knew it wasn’t entirely his fault, but still, he had been a fool to fall for Dani’s lies and believe her and Elizabeth for as long as he did.
“I hope those freaks fry for what they did to you and Brian,” said AJ savagely, shaking his head. “Have you been watching the news? The police found the body of a woman who had been missing for a few weeks in the funeral home, so now they’re considering adding first-degree murder to the list of crimes they’ve already been charged with.”
Nick’s blood ran cold as he remembered the woman with the bird tattoo, his one-time roommate. When he closed his eyes, he could still see Patrick on top of her naked corpse. He tried to block that memory, only to have it replaced by one of the woman’s bare breasts flopping around as Dani and the others took turns pumping her chest in their failed attempt to resuscitate her. Now he wondered how hard they had actually tried. They killed her, he realized, just like they almost killed me. He could have easily ended up just like that poor woman.
“Florida does still have the death penalty, you know,” AJ went on. “Personally, I’ve never been a big believer in it, but this may have changed my mind. I mean, anyone who fucks with my brothers the way they did deserves to-”
“Enough, AJ,” Kevin warned with a wary glance at Nick. “We’re not here to talk about those people. Let’s try to keep things positive and focused on Nick, okay?”
“Sorry, man - didn’t mean to bring up bad memories,” AJ apologized, patting Nick’s knee. “You okay?”
Nick nodded, forcing the images out of his head. “I’m fine,” he lied, but he could tell by their concerned faces that they didn’t believe him.
“How are you feeling?” Howie wanted to know.
“A little better every day,” was Nick’s answer, but that wasn’t entirely true either. Without morphine, his physical pain was worse than it had been the day he’d woken up, while his mental anguish came and went in waves. He was happy to see the rest of the guys, but their presence reminded him of how far removed he felt from his former self.
Three months ago, he had been performing a two-hour show nearly every night, singing and dancing and playing around on stage, making fans scream with a strategically-placed pelvic thrust or crotch grab. Now he could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom by himself or move to his chair without help, and the mere thought of jumping or dancing or taking a deep breath to belt out a high note made his chest hurt. How was he ever going to get back into the kind of shape he needed to be in to be “Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys” again?
Brian did it in two months, he reminded himself. You can too.
They were supposed to start the South American leg of their world tour at the end of February, which gave him more than two months to recuperate, but Nick had a hard time imagining himself being ready by then, physically or emotionally.
“You don’t have to be,” said Kevin when Nick admitted this to the group. “We can take off as much time as you need.” He looked around at the others, who were all bobbing their heads in agreement. “We’ve talked about this, and we were already planning on postponing the rest of the tour until you’re ready to go back on the road. We were just waiting to get the final word from you before we made an official announcement.”
Nick nodded with relief. “Thanks, guys,” he replied, feeling less anxious, as if another weight had been lifted off his chest. “I really appreciate that.”
The guys stayed in Miami for two more weeks, as Nick continued to recover. After a few days, he was moved first to the step-down unit and then finally to a regular room, where he was free from most of the tubes and wires he had been tethered to in the ICU. Without all the noisy machines and monitors surrounding his bed, Nick slept better than he had in weeks. But he still couldn’t wait to go home and sleep in his own bed with his wife beside him.
“When are you coming home, Daddy?” Odin asked him every day as they talked over FaceTime on Lauren’s phone.
Each time, Nick was forced to give his son the same vague answer: “Soon, I hope, buddy. Real soon.”
***
Two days before Christmas, Nick got his wish, when he was finally discharged from the hospital with a clean bill of health. He would have happily flown home that same day, but with it being such a busy time of year for air travel, all the flights back to Las Vegas were fully booked. He and Lauren spent the night in a nearby hotel instead.
As much as he missed Odin, Nick had to admit, it was nice being able to spend some time alone with his wife outside of the hospital before they went home. They enjoyed a relaxing evening together, ordering room service for dinner and watching a Christmas movie on TV as they ate, then turned in early, for they had reserved the last two seats on the first nonstop flight out of Miami the next morning.
At first, the king-sized bed in their hotel room really did seem fit for royalty compared to the hospital beds Nick had been sleeping in for the better part of two months. As he slipped between the crisp, cool sheets and stretched out next to Lauren, Nick looked forward to finally getting a good night’s sleep, uninterrupted by nurses coming in at all hours to check his blood pressure or change his IV bag. But while his wife fell asleep quickly, curled up in the fetal position on one side of the bed, Nick lay awake for a long time on the other. He couldn’t get comfortable. Forced to lie flat on his back because his breastbone hadn’t finished fusing together, he found himself missing the adjustable hospital bed that could elevate him to any angle with the push of a button. He fluffed up the pillows behind his head and fought the urge to toss and turn, knowing he would only cause himself more discomfort if he tried. Finally, he drifted into a fitful doze.
He woke with a feeling of dread. He was drenched in sweat and breathing hard, his heart hammering inside his heaving chest. A dull pain was radiating up and down his arms, across his back, and beneath his rib cage. It came and went in waves that seemed to escalate, each one more powerful than the one before. His breath caught in his throat as he was rocked by a particularly intense wave of pain, and he let out a strangled cry.
It was enough to wake up his wife. “What’s wrong, baby?” he heard Lauren mumble as she stirred beside him. When he didn’t answer, she reached up and switched on the light. “Nick?” she said, rolling over to face him. “Are you all right? Did you have another nightmare?”
He shook his head.
“What is it?” she asked more urgently, her voice rising. “Talk to me, Nick; you’re scaring me.”
The pain was coming from the left side of his chest. He put his hand there and felt his heart pounding frantically against his palm. Finally, he said faintly, “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
“A heart attack?” Lauren repeated, raising her eyebrows. “Or a panic attack? Are you sure you didn’t have a nightmare?”
Nick nodded. He knew it wasn’t a panic attack. In spite of his sense of impending doom, a strange calmness had come over him. He sat quietly, holding his chest, as Lauren snatched her cell phone off the bedside table and announced, “I’m calling 911.” He could hear her in the background, talking to the dispatcher. “I need an ambulance. My husband just had heart surgery three weeks ago, and now he’s having chest pains.” Her voice seemed to fade in and out as she relayed the name of their hotel and their room number, sounding like she was far away instead of right beside him…
...only, suddenly, he was no longer sitting next to her, but floating somewhere above her. He looked down and saw his body slumped over in the bed. Somehow, he had left it behind. Lauren was shaking him by the shoulders, screaming his name, but Nick could not respond.
No! he thought when he realized what was happening. He watched with despair as she bent over his lifeless body to attempt CPR. No, it’s not my time yet! I was supposed to stay here and help raise my son. I was supposed to grow old with my wife.
“Please, Nick… please don’t leave me!” Lauren sobbed as she pushed down on his chest. It looked like it hurt, yet Nick felt no physical pain, only the emotional anguish of seeing his wife so distraught.
I don’t want to leave. I’m not ready, he pleaded, but this time, he was powerless to stop what was happening to him. He could only hover and watch as the hotel room filled with paramedics in bright orange uniforms. They lifted his body off the bed and lowered him to the floor, where they huddled around him, cutting off the wifebeater he had worn to bed and attaching sticky pads to his bare chest while a pair of hands performed continuous compressions to keep his blood pumping.
Still in her pajamas, Lauren stood in the background, rocking unsteadily on her heels. Her hands were clasped together tightly, and she was holding them in front of her face. Whether she was praying or just trying to prevent herself from watching, Nick wasn’t sure. He wanted desperately to console her, but there was nothing he could do. He no longer had control over the body that was lying on the floor.
Helplessly, he watched the paramedics load him onto a stretcher. The smallest medic climbed on top, straddling his body so she could continue CPR as they whisked him away to a waiting ambulance.
Then his whole world went black.
With a jolt, he awoke in the back of the ambulance. “Welcome back, Nick,” said a voice that made his blood run cold. “We missed you.” He opened his eyes, blinking in confusion as Dani’s smirking face came into focus. He was still strapped down to the stretcher, and she was hovering over him, holding a pair of defibrillator paddles in her hands.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask that had been placed over his mouth and nose. “I thought you were behind bars.”
“We busted out,” said a second voice, and his eyes darted to the left to see Elizabeth sitting on the other side of the stretcher, her trusty stethoscope in her ears. She and Dani were dressed in identical orange prison jumpsuits, which he had mistaken for paramedic uniforms. “Aren’t you glad?” she added, as she pressed the end of her stethoscope to the center of his chest. “We just saved your life.”
“You almost killed me!” Nick protested. “You did this to me; you put me here!” How had they managed it this time? he wondered. Had they broken into his hotel room? Poisoned the food from room service? Injected him with something while he was asleep?
“Your heart put you here,” said Elizabeth, pursing her lips as she listened. She took off the stethoscope and replaced it around her neck. “I’m not liking what I’m hearing, Nick. It’s high time you had that transplant we talked about. We’re going to give you a gift you’ll never forget: a nice new heart for the holidays! How does that sound?”
Terrified, Nick shook his head. “No, please… I don’t need a new heart; the other doctor said my heart is fine now! Please, just let me go home!”
Elizabeth ignored his desperate pleas. “Scalpel,” she said, and Nick saw the gleam of shiny stainless steel as Dani passed her a surgical tool. He began to squirm, twisting his body this way and that as he tried to free himself from the straps that were holding him in place on the stretcher. But it was no use - they were too tight. “Hold still now,” Elizabeth warned, brandishing the sharp blade. “This will hurt a lot more if you move too much and make me miss my mark.”
As she brought the blade down and sliced through his skin, Nick began to scream. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Elizabeth scolded him. “This is nothing compared to what’s coming next.” His nerves fired, sending frantic pain signals to and from his brain as she ran the scalpel slowly over his surgical scar, reopening the old incision in the center of his chest. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked with a sadistic smile, wiping away the blood that oozed between the separated flaps of skin. “The next part will be much worse. Would you like to do the honors, Rob?”
Dani’s husband seemed to appear out of nowhere. Nick hadn’t noticed him earlier, but suddenly, he was standing next to the stretcher. “I’d be happy to,” Rob replied. Before Nick could even begin to brace himself, Rob reached out and stuck his fingers into the fresh incision. Nick felt pain first, followed by intense pressure, as Rob dug deeper and started to pull the two halves of his sternum apart. All it took was one sharp tug, and Rob split Nick’s rib cage wide open with his bare hands.
Nick felt cold air on the outside of his lungs as his screaming crescendoed. “Shh,” said Dani, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s okay, Nick. Just relax and breathe.
Reaching into his chest cavity, Elizabeth wrapped her hand around his beating heart and began to squeeze. Bright red blood spurted like a fountain, splattering onto the front of her orange jumpsuit, as Nick screamed and screamed. In the background, he could hear Dani repeating, “It’s okay, Nick… You’re all right.” But he was far from all right. He felt Elizabeth’s fist close fully over his heart, her claw-like fingernails tearing through the tissue surrounding it. Then, all of a sudden, she ripped it right out of his chest.
He stopped screaming long enough to stare in horror at the sight of her holding his heart over her head like it was some kind of trophy. This can’t be happening, he thought. This can’t be real. I have to be dreaming...
Nick sat bolt upright in bed, the blankets falling off him. He looked down, expecting to see a gaping hole in his chest where his heart had been, but beneath his sweat-soaked wifebeater, the skin was intact, the healing incision still closed. He was breathing hard, his rib cage expanding and contracting rapidly as he gasped for air. Putting a hand on his heaving chest, he could feel his heart hammering against his palm.
“Nick?” he heard Lauren ask, as she rose onto one elbow in the bed beside him. “Are you all right? Did you have another nightmare?”
This time, he nodded. Now that he was awake, he knew that was all it had been, yet it had felt so real. His chest hurt. His heart was still racing.
Lauren reached for him, resting her hand on the small of his back. “It must have been scary,” she said softly, as she rubbed his back in slow circles. “You were screaming.”
Nick nodded again. “It was.”
“Aww, baby…” She sat up and scooted closer, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He leaned back into her embrace, letting his body go limp. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” she murmured, as she held him. “When we get home, we’re going to find a therapist who specializes in PTSD, someone who can help with that part of your healing process.”
He swallowed hard before he said hoarsely, “Sounds like a plan.” As much as he hated to admit he needed professional help to move past this, he knew Lauren was probably right. Dani, Elizabeth, Rob, and Patrick may have been behind bars, but they still haunted his dreams almost every night. He was desperate to make the nightmares stop.
“Do you want to try to go back to sleep?” asked Lauren.
Nick looked at the clock on the table next to the bed. It was already five in the morning. They needed to be at the airport by seven. “Nah,” he said. “I’m just gonna get up now and grab a shower.”
“Okay…”
He could feel Lauren’s eyes on him, watching with concern as he climbed slowly out of bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom. He turned on the light and closed the door before he took off his wifebeater.
Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he stopped to stare at his reflection, standing in front of the sink in nothing but his boxers. He ran his finger lightly over the long, raised, red line in the middle of his chest - his battle scar, as Lauren had called it. The first time he had seen it when they took off his dressing in the hospital, it had freaked him out. He was starting to get used to it by now, but he knew that although it would fade with time, it would never fully disappear. He would wear that scar forever… and he would never be the same as before.
***
