My reflexes picked up the knife and swung it towards the window. It was nothing but a baseball. It had broken the window and landed by the toilet. Cold air rushed in through the open space and I struggled to put my clothes back on.
I moved the boxes from the door and got out of the bathroom. Before I left with the baseball in my hand, I checked my looks in the mirror. It was pretty fogged up, but I could make out the huge bruise on my nose and that I needed to cut my hair very badly.
Just then I heard the doorbell ring and I picked up a hat from the bottom of my closet. I assumed it would be the boys or girls who threw the ball into my window. If they saw my face fully I knew it would probably scare them.
I hobbled awkwardly down the stairs with the baseball in my hand. Before I opened the door, I looked to make sure that it wasn’t Greta. Just like I had assumed, they were only two kids, a boy and a girl.
I opened the door for them, which took a while because I triple bolted it. You can never be too careful.
“Um, we threw our ball into your window…” the little girl started.
“And we we’re really, really sorry!” the boy exclaimed.
“We’ll pay for it if you want.”
“But can we have our ball back?”
I smiled softly at them. I was hardly mad; they’d just scared me half to death. Without a word, I tossed the ball into the girl’s hands and shut the door. I could hear them saying, “That’s not Nick Carter,” and I figured they threw the ball in my window on purpose to see if I lived here.
Surprisingly, I had a lot of energy to burn after all that. It must have been something that Greta gave me or something, but whatever it was it was a life saver.
I boarded up the broken window and promised myself to get someone I trusted to fix it. The bathroom is attached to my bedroom, so when I walked out of the bathroom, I found the film on the floor. I decided to go for a walk and see what was on it.
In a bag, I carried my pills and an extra sweater. I’d learned from my previous walks that I tended to get in trouble on the way back from my destinations. I learn from my mistakes as well and if I got in trouble there would be no way that I would take a cab.
The weather outside was prefect for walking. Unfortunately, as I walked I began to think about my dogs. It felt so lonely walking by myself that I decided to visit the pet store after I got the film developed.
People walking by waved kindly at me and I waved back with my bandaged hand. Either they didn’t know who I was or they weren’t sure, but I got a new feeling from it. I felt as though I didn’t belong.
My shadow was my company as I walked down the busy street. I think people thought that I was a bum from my face. But my clothes were designers borrowed from Kevin. Except for my shoes, they were Nikes.
Most normal people don’t walk all the way down town as much as I do. But I prefer it when I can because fans can keep up to you in a traffic jam or a red light. The only time I’ve caused street hysteria was when I asked a young lady if she knew where the arena was. She was excited, I could tell, but she was very mature about it. It was an interesting situation that’s for sure. People caught on very quickly after that and the whole street filled up with fans. Luckily I could get out in time for the show; that was my excuse to leave.
I thought about being a Backstreet Boy a lot while I walked. It was different now that everything appeared to be evil. The media violating me, fans violating me, and of course non-fans violating me. I’m sensitive about being violated, because my rights make it so that I don’t have to be violated. But I am.
I thought about Brian too and how he violated me. As far as I was concerned, he’d permanently damaged our friendship and I didn’t care how sorry he was. It was too late for that now that I was dying. If Greta was right, then I’d have to start writing my will soon. I’d leave everything to my family and some of my money to leukemia research centers. I didn’t know any off the top of my head, but I felt that it was my duty to donate. I hoped that they could create an alternative to chemotherapy.
For some reason, I wanted to leave something for Rok. I’d thought that I would never think about it, but somehow I had. When I thought about it harder, I had nothing to give to him. He had given it all to me, all that I needed. He comforted me and I comforted him. We found a friend in each other and I missed that feeling so much. I’d taken it for granted and now it was all ruined.
The other guys deserved something too, for helping me on my rise to success and being my friends. But, like with Lou Pearlman, things change, and people change. To me, they all changed for the worse.
As I thought about this I slipped deeper into depression. It’s hard to explain how I felt, but it’s an evil sinking feeling that never goes away. Sometimes it’s really hard to live with.
In my depression, I thought about the pills I had in the bag and how heavy they were getting. I thought, well maybe if I ate some of them, the bag wouldn’t be so heavy anymore. But I didn’t go through with it because right now I was afraid of those pills. I wasn’t going by Denise’s wishes, but for my own safety. Pills are a form of medicine after all, and I promised myself, not Denise, to take them in moderation.
Before I made it down town, I would stop frequently to rest on a bench. After a while of doing it, it started to nag on my depression. I had one of the worse feelings in the world when I sat on those benches. I felt fat all over again. And I had this uncontrollable urge to scream as loud as I could just to turn heads.
Without sitting down, the rest of the way there seemed decades away. I was aware that I was walking slower than most of the people there and that made me feel fat all over again. There was no comfort in this walk.
My feet ached and throbbed but I kept on going. I didn’t know what my drive was anymore. I’d forgotten it while I was thinking. I thought about turning back, but I’d gone so far that it would be farther going home than going down town.
When I felt as though I couldn’t move any farther, I did stop to rest on the bench. I was hoping that I wouldn’t need to rest for long, but as it turned out, I was more tired than I thought. For a long time I rested with my hands in my chin, pretending to wait for somebody. My eyelids felt heavy and I drifted in and out of conscious thinking frequently.
While I rested, my depression subsided. While I thought, my depression increased. I thought about my contributions to the BSB and what they all meant. Now they meant nothing. They could all be replaced I found. I contributed a voice; they could find another singer. I contributed my looks; we are all equal. And lastly I contributed my personality; they could always find another fat funny kid.
“Hey mister!” I heard suddenly through the fog of my thoughts. It was a little girl holding a wad of lollipops and smiling broadly. I didn’t change my position of elbows on knees chin in hands and I still could look into her face.
“Are you a bum?” she asked me eagerly. I shook my head slowly, still keeping my position.
“What happened to your face? Did you get in a fight?” That was the good thing about little kids, they always ask questions in concession. I shook my head no again and she looked at me closer.
“Why are you so tired? Have a lolly, it’ll make you feel better.” She tried to put it in my hands but I waved it off. She was persistent though, and she put it beside me on the bench.
“Lucy!” I heard someone in front of me yell. It was probably her mother. “What are you doing with that filth?”
“He looks so sad mommy.” That sounded so cute and touching – you had to be there.
“I don’t care what he looks like, just never touch bums like that again!”
“But I asked him if he was a bum and he said no.”
“Do you think he’ll admit to that? Now get in the car Lucy, I want no further discussion with you.”
Lucy was reluctant to leave for a moment, then she saw the look in her mother’s eyes and left. I didn’t want to watch but I did anyway from the same position. My eyes hurt from looking too much.
Lucy’s mom turned her attention to me. “I don’t know if I want to know this, but what have you been doing with my daughter? Look at me!”
I did look up at her, but only for a second. She was ready to strike me across the face, so I ducked behind my bandaged hands. The woman then tried to pry my hands off of my face. I didn’t want her to touch me or make my face hurt more than it already did, because I was still afraid of taking the pills.
In one swift movement, I looped my bag over my arm, threw the lollipop in the bag and took off running. There was a foresty area up ahead and that’s where I was aiming for. The woman took of after me in her high heels and I was hoping that they would make her less mobile. Of course running away made me look guiltier than I actually was.
About fifty feet later, I collapsed near a fallen tree and paused to hear the woman. I heard nothing coming from either direction. I was so relieved that I took the lollipop out of the bag, ripped the paper off with my teeth and put it in my mouth.
At first, the sugar stung, but after a while I got used to it. The girl had been right, it was therapeutic. I wondered if she used it to fend off her mom when she got upset.
“Ah ha!” I heard from in front of me. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was, but I did anyway.
She started rummaging through my bags first while I watched. I was so relaxed that I couldn’t move. She found the pills easily enough and screamed at me about giving them to her daughter. I just shook my head because it wasn’t true.
“Then what are these pills for? Getting high? Perhaps for getting small children high?” I shook my head again and I could tell that she was becoming irritated.
“Can’t you speak? If you don’t I’ll throw all of these pills on the ground!”
“For my pain,” I said slowly.
“Oh? And what kind of pain? Heartache? Ha!” she laughed like a hyena for a while until I dropped the bomb.
“They’re for cancer pains,” I told her frankly. I watched the cruel expression on her warty face diminish and then return with a flourish.
“Prove it.” I knew that was coming, I could see it in her eyes. But I didn’t have the nerves or the energy to do it.
When I didn’t answer she snorted grotesquely and unscrewed the lid from my jar of pills.
“Wait!” I screamed and she stopped with a smirk on her face. “What do you know about the effects of cancer?” I really didn’t want to do this and I would only show her the tumor as a last resort.
“My mother had it. That’s why little faking pricks like you really piss me off.”
That was all I needed to know. I started by showing her some of the bruises on my face and ended off by showing her the swelling of my stomach. When I flipped up my shirt, my driver’s license feel out of my pocket. I’d forgotten to take it out of there when I dressed, but now the woman was staring at it with gaping eyes.
“Did you steal that?” she asked, even though I think she knew it wasn’t a lie.
“Oh God, please don’t tell anybody. I’m in so much trouble already,” I whimpered with pleading eyes.
“Will you sing for me then?” Just a second ago she hated me, but I decided to go with her wish. I never wanted anyone to know what was wrong with me, especially not the guys.
“What song?” She told me to sing the intro to “Don’t Wanna Lose You Now,” then she left without a word.
Chapter 19
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