Chapter
6 – Paradise
Lost
Brian
stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. He had discovered that this was the
activity that he could do with the least amount of pain. It hurt to move, it
hurt to breathe, it hurt to think. So he just lay there, and stared at the ceiling.
He was glad that pain deterred him from thinking, because it kept him from
wondering what had happened. Every time he began to think about that question,
he’d start hurting more and have to stop.
He
wasn’t sure where he was, but for the moment that did not bother him. He was
just happy to be able to stare at the ceiling with a minimal amount of agony.
That was, until the door opened. The sudden light caused him to flinch, which
of course, hurt. He grunted painfully, and his voice cracked as he whispered
out loud.
“Who’s
there?”
“You’re
awake,” a voice answered him, sounding pleased.
“What…”
Brian started. He wasn’t even sure what to ask.
“May I
turn on the light?” the voice asked.
“Light
hurts my eyes,” he mumbled.
“That’s
ok then. We’ll leave it off. I won’t bother you for very long. You need all the
rest you can get.” Brian nodded, closing his eyes again.
Dr.
Westin introduced himself and pulled up a chair next to the bed.
“Brian
do you have any idea where you are?”
Brian
shook his head slightly. “No,” he croaked.
“You’re
in the hospital. You were in an accident, and you have some nasty injuries. Do
you understand?”
Brian
looked confused. “An accident?”
“That’s
right.”
“I
don’t remember.”
“That’s
ok,” Westin assured him.
“Is
that why I hurt so much?”
“Yes.
If you are feeling a lot of pain I’ll tell the nurse to give you something more
for it.”
Brian
nodded. “Please.”
“Ok,”
he said, scribbling something on his clipboard. “I’m glad you’re doing better.
You didn’t look so hot not too long ago. This is the first time you’ve woken up
and been aware of your surroundings.”
“How
long have I been here?”
“About
two days.”
“Wow.”
Brian nestled his head deeper into his pillow. It became very hard all of the
sudden to focus on the doctor, and to keep his eyes open.
“I’m
going to let you get some rest right now, so we’ll talk later, ok?”
“Yeah,”
Brian said, drifting off again.
Westin
quietly left the room and gave the nurse on duty some instructions. “It looks
like he is finally coming out of it,” he remarked. “Thank goodness. Keep a
close eye on him, he’s going to be a little trickier to deal with than the
others.”
“Even
more so than McLean?” The nurse asked with a raised eyebrow.
He
handed her the clipboard. “Yes. A.J. is going to be all right given a little
time. I don’t think our incident this afternoon will be repeated. Brian is
going to be a little more delicate. This is going to be a long recovery. I just
hope all of them make it.”
“What’s
the news with the others?”
“Carter
and Richardson are still in a coma. Carter had surgery a little while ago. I’m
very worried about him. His immune system was already weakened when he came in.
He had pneumonia. That just makes his fight that much harder. Richardson might
be back in the OR soon too. Hite still suspects he has some internal bleeding.”
The
nurse shook her head. “Boy oh boy. This is just unbelievable.”
* * *
“This
is News Channel 4 at 10, I am Debra Daniels. Our top story tonight remains the
hospitalization of the pop group the Backstreet Boys here in San Antonio.
Hospital spokesmen tell us that Howie Dorough is awake and responding to
questions. No improvement is reported in the most critically injured Boys,
Kevin Richardson, and Nick Carter, who have both been listed in critical
condition. A.J McLean has been upgraded to serious condition, as has Brian
Littrell. The young men were hospitalized two days ago after their tour bus was
hit by a trucker on Highway 35 while they were en route to their next concert
in Houston. The Backstreet Boys had just finished performing here in San
Antonio the night of the accident…”
“This
is Kurt Loader from MTV News with an update on the ailing Backstreet Boys.
Hospital spokespersons report that Howie Dorough is awake and alert and
answering questions. He is expected to make a full recovery. The lives of Kevin
Richardson and Nick Carter still hang in the balance however, and doctors are
reluctant to predict their chances. A.J. McLean and Brian Littrell are no
longer critical, but they have yet to regain consciousness. Needless to say,
the remaining shows on the Backstreet Boys tour have been cancelled. Fans of
the group everywhere have gathered together to offer their hopes and prayers…
* * *
Brian
woke up several more times throughout the next day, and though he was still
exhausted, he was able to remain awake for longer periods of time. His parents
had tried to see him earlier, but he just couldn’t stand the way they looked at
him. There was such sadness in them, and he was terrified to find out what it
meant. He had made the connection earlier that he was probably not alone in the
accident, although no one had mentioned anyone else to him. Something awful had
happened, but he was not ready yet to ask what.
All he
wanted was to remain in his own little realm of pain. He did not want to
acknowledge the rest of the world. To do so would have meant even more
suffering. His plan had worked so far, since he was only up for ten minutes or
so at a time. It worked, that is, until that afternoon.
He
happened to be awake when a nurse came in to take his blood pressure. She left
the door open, and he could hear the radio playing softly outside. All of the
sudden he heard a few familiar chords, and then Nick’s voice filled the
speaker.
“I
don’t know what he does to make you cry…”
Brian
gasped, and covered his face with his hands. “Oh my God, Oh my God,” he began
to sob. Somewhere deep in his memory, an image came to his head.
As
far as I’m concerned you can just go straight to hell and not come back.
“What?
What is it?” the nurse asked, alarmed. Brian just shook his head, and continued
to cry, his frail body shaking from the enormity of his sobs.
She
darted out of the room and called for a doctor. “Dr. Westin! He’s doing it
again!” she said urgently. Westin came rushing over.
“Brian?”
he asked gently. “What’s the matter?”
“Th-the
radio...the radio… Oh God, what happened to my friends? Nick. What happened to
my friends…”
Westin
sighed. “I was waiting for this. I wasn’t going to tell you anything until you
were ready to ask.”
* * *
After a
few hours more sleep, Brian woke up again. He felt even more drained than
before, and his heart was filled with despair. His own cousin, and his best friend
in the world were fighting a losing battle for their lives. He was terrified
that not only might he lose one, but he might lose them both. It was something
he could never bring himself to face.
The
nurse asked him if he wanted to see his parents. Brian shook his head. He
couldn’t do it. He wanted their company and knew he needed their support, but
he simply couldn’t do it. He knew he was hurting them by saying no, but the
only thing that seemed safe to him was sleep, so that was what he chose.
The next
time he woke, it was to the voice of one of the orderlies.
“Brian?”
“Yes?”
he mumbled, not willing to open his eyes.
“There’s
someone here who wants to see you.”
“No,”
he rasped. “I don’t want to see anybody.”
“I
think this is someone you want to see.”
Brian
slowly opened his eyes and focused on him. “Why?” he asked bitterly.
“Trust
me on this one. Doctor’s orders. Besides, he’s very anxious to see you.”
“Fine.”
To his
great surprise, Howie appeared in the doorway in a wheelchair.
* * *
What
Howie saw was a pathetic sight. All of the life seemed to have gone out of his
friend. His normally sparkling blue eyes were flat and dull, and his usually
pleasant face was pale and drawn. He seemed even smaller than his 5’8” frame in
the bed, with multiple IVs coming out of both arms and his hand. An oxygen mask
was draped around his face. A nasty gash ran the length of his forehead, and
Howie could see the dreadful cuts that covered his arms. They were similar to
his own. Upon seeing Howie, a flicker of life fluttered behind his eyes, but it
passed quickly.
“Howie,”
Brian murmured. The orderly placed his wheelchair next to Brian’s bed and then
left them alone. For a moment they said nothing, and then Howie reached out his
good hand. Brian clasped it tightly, and the tears spilled over. Howie thought
his cry earlier had helped him, but he was wrong. The two broke down together,
and eased each other’s pain although neither said a word.
“I’m so
glad you are ok,” Howie managed to say after a long while.
Brian
nodded. “They told me about the others,” Brian said dully. “About Nick…”
“I know
man, I know,” Howie said, feeling the sting at the corner of his eyes yet
again. “The only other one they’ve let me see is A.J., and that’s because they
needed me to calm his down. He kinda flipped out.”
“A.J.”
Brian whispered. “Is he going to be all right?”
“I
think so,” Howie answered. “They are going to put us in a room together, for
his sake. He didn’t react very well to the world when he woke up. They want me
to be there when he wakes up again. They say he probably will in another hour
or so.” Howie was rambling, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was killing him to
see Brian like this.
“What
are we going to do?” Brian asked. The emptiness in his eyes had been replaced
with incredible pain and suffering. Howie almost wished for them to be blank as
they were before.
“Pray,”
was all Howie could think of. That seemed to comfort him, and the two joined
hands and prayed. At that moment, it was all they had.