“Yes, it’s me Aaron, how could you tell?” I tried to ask. No words came out though.
“Don’t be mad Nick, I was getting bored of waiting, so I went to your drums. I’m sorry.” I could have sworn that he was looking right at me when he said it. A wave of hope passed me and I kneeled so that we were eye to eye.
“Can you see me?” I tried to ask. I didn’t even have to say anything and my question was answered. He walked right through me and opened the door.
“Nick? Are you there? Come inside, you’ll get cold. Come and play with me, I’ll let you win, I promise.”
Just then, I heard another voice, my mom’s. “Aaron? Are you trying to talk to Nick again?”
“No mom.”
“Oh, Aaron, come here honey.”
Reluctantly, Aaron shut the door. He shut it right through me without even knowing it.
“I’ll be back Nick, I promise. Mom says you’re not here, but I know better. It’s your ghost, it’s here and…I’m sorry you died…” He started to cry but wiped away the tears with the back of his sleeve. “I can’t let mom see, she doesn’t get it.”
He bounded down the stairs and I bounded down after him. I couldn’t wait to see my mom in person again; even so it was only a dream.
When we got there, my mom was on the phone. She sounded really excited for most of the conversation.
“Oh you saw him! Is he okay?”
“Unrecognizable? Then how did you know it was him?”
“His license? Oh, but someone could have stolen it…”
“He sang to you? Heavens, then it had to have been him.” She covered the receiver and motioned for Aaron to come over. He grabbed her hand and hugged her tight.
“Uh huh, uh huh…reward? Oh sure! Can you tell where he went? When exactly did you see him? Oh, I see; it was back in December. Ok, thanks anyway, bye.” My mom hung up looking so defeated. The lady who called was probably the mother of Lucy, the little girl with the lollipops. That was a while back, I thought. It didn’t matter anyway. I was still in LA, but no one would find me where I was.
“They didn’t find him, did they?” Aaron asked, defeated. Our mom shook her head. Aaron sighed and let go of her hand.
“But she saw him…”
“Yeah, in December, I heard. And I also heard something about him being unrecognizable. He can’t be my brother if he doesn’t look like my brother!”
“Now Aaron, I’m sure she didn’t mean that…”
“Of course she did! Why else would she say it? You asked if he was okay and she said he was unrecognizable! I’m going upstairs to talk to my real brother!”
Mom reached out swiftly and grabbed him by the arm. “No, you’re not going anywhere until we discuss this. You need to see Dr. Lipman again. She’ll explain to you what I already told you.”
“Nick is up there mom! I talked to him and…”
“Come on Aaron, let’s go.” She dragged with her out the front door and I followed along close behind. I had to find out if I was driving my brother insane.
When we got outside, we were greeted by dozens of reporters. They couldn’t see me of course, but I had a grand old time passing through them for the first time ever without being harassed.
Aaron was being difficult again as my mom tried to pull him into the car. Along the way she promised the reporters that she would answer a few questions after she got Aaron into the car. I was afraid that they would report abuse but they seemed to understand for once. Maybe that was because in my dream world, everyone understood everyone else.
After my mom locked Aaron into the car, she went back to the reporters. Aaron was beating at the window and the only way I could think of to get him to stop was to go through him a couple times to make him cold. He began to feel the cold full force after I went through him for the third time and he ducked in the back to find a blanket.
My mom noticed that the banging had stopped and excused herself from the reporters to check on her son. She smiled when she saw him huddled up in the back, sound asleep. I was quite proud of how I handled the situation using only what I had, which wasn’t much.
I followed her back to the reporters and automatically they fired the questions.
“How’s Aaron doing now?”
“Is he getting better?”
“How’s the rest of the family?”
“Where’s the rest of the family?”
“Any word about Nick?”
“What would you say to the kidnapper if Nick was kidnapped?”
She answered all of the questions orderly, like she normally did, “Aaron’s doing all right,” “yes,” “fine,” “at the hospital,” “somebody saw him about a month ago. He sang to her,” “I would ask the kidnapper to tell him we love him.”
“Does Nick really have cancer?”
“Yes, yes he does. If he’s still alive right now, he has acute myeloid leukemia. And…and he’s probably not being treated right now. If the kidnapper is out there, please give him up! We’ll give you money, anything you want, but Nick has to start treatment before he dies!”
A hush fell over the reporters until one asked, “Did anyone ask for ransom money yet?”
“No…that’s we’re not sure if it was a kidnapping…Nick could be hiding…he was very upset when he left.” My mom wiped a tear from her eyes.
“What was he upset about?”
“His friends were playing a joke on him…only he didn’t know it was a joke and he still doesn’t. We all feel so guilty…and I just wasn’t there for him. All the signs were there. It was just inevitable that this would happen. Please…please excuse me, I have to go to my son.”
I watched my mom’s emotions intensely, knowing that I’d be embraced if I came back, know matter what I’d become. Even so, I wouldn’t let Aaron see me all bald and sick-looking, even if it was only a dream.
“…And that was a heart-felt plea from a lost mother. Her famous son, as we all know well, went missing a few months ago and new reports of him have been announced since then. His ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend was the last person to see him alive…”
I had in mind to follow them to the hospital, but the scene was slowly starting to change. Even so, I could still hear the reporter’s voices chanting.
“…No information about his whereabouts…”
“…Ex-girlfriend claims that he can’t even walk…”
“…He was last seen in a hospital wheelchair that was reported missing and he was wearing a blue sweater, jeans and had on white Nike shoes. One of which was slightly charred…”
“…Credit card last used at small film shop in downtown LA…”
“…House was completely trashed, possibly by Mr. Carter himself in a psychotic rampage. Every award he’d earned was completely demolished…”
“…We have reason to believe that Mr. Nick Carter destroyed his own awards because the only thing left up in that room was a picture of himself and Mr. Brian Littrell where Mr. Carter wrote, “What friendship?” in large letters underneath. This was done with his own black marker and police have identified Mr. Carter’s fingerprints on it…”
“…Police are now switching from homicide to suicide on the case of Nick Carter. ‘He was very upset when he left,’ says chief lieutenant Hallieway, ‘and we have reason to believe that he either killed himself or tried to kill himself…”
‘How do they figure out these things?’ I wondered as the voices of the reporters stopped. Or maybe they didn’t stop and I just ignored them. I was very intent on wondering where I would go next. It wasn’t all good news, but it was good to see everyone again, even so it was in this way.
A bright light invaded my vision and my hand flew involuntarily to my face. It faded as soon as it came and I slowly removed my hand, unaware of what I was about to behold. My future. Specifically, my present future, if that makes any sense at all.
The dream got stranger, if that was possible. It was different from most dreams, a visionary dream of sorts. Whatever it was, it was my only window to what was going on while I was dreaming. I was seeing things in a way that I was crazy not to believe and I was still remembering these dreams today. This kind of phenomena could only happen to someone as lost as I was.
At first when I peered down at the bald-headed figure lying in the bed I thought, ‘What’s wrong with Charlie?’ Then I remembered that I was bald to. I wasn’t exactly sure which one of us it was at first, because the person’s face completely covered in white bandages. So was every other part of them it seems.
The way my luck was going, I couldn’t help thinking, ‘That’s me, that’s me in there isn’t it? I know it’s me…’
Someone male or female, I couldn’t tell, walked languidly into the room. At a painfully idle pace, this someone removed the bandages of the wounded person. I covered my eyes with both hands so I wouldn’t see who it was, but some unknown force dragged me closer, until I was at the foot of the bed. Then the force skillfully detached my hands from my face and placed them at my sides.
I would have put them right back on my face, if it weren’t for one small detail. I was already staring at the face of the person in the bed and I was paralyzed with fear. And I thought the fear of not knowing was bad.
From the back of my brain my foremost fear propelled itself into my vision. My God, it was me in that bed, and by the looks of it, I wouldn’t be moving from it for a long time.
I could tell that it had taken doctors a tremendous amount of time to rebuild and repair my tattered face. They were almost there, because the bleeding had stopped. But the cuts, oh the cuts were so deep that they appeared to descend into my skull. Battered, twisted fate led me to this place. And I would never ever let Aaron see my face. If I was unrecognizable before, I transcended that now. There was no word for the terrible sight before. Little did I know, but that wasn’t all.
I lost my sense of denial moments later and started to fall. The same force that dragged me down earlier caught me before I hit the ground and placed me upon my knees. I cried translucent tears for as long as I could stand. Then I heard this sound. I stopped crying for moment and listened. There was nothing. I went back to my tears, but then I heard it again. The sound only came when I cried. When I learned this, I got to my feet and I looked for the source of the sound.
I was crying. Not the spirit me, the one in the bed. Somehow I was still connected to it. When I was in this spirit form, I felt no pain. But it was guaranteed that I would if I went back inside my body. Tears on a cut face feels like pouring salt on an open wound.
Keeping this in mind, I started to play around with my body. No matter what I tried, I couldn't get my eyes open. I realized that since the spirit portion of me was awake, then my body has to be asleep. And if I woke up my body, I could say goodbye to my spirit body.
I decided to leave the big things alone and concentrate on the smaller things. To examine myself closer, I floated up to my head and peered into my own face. It was so incredible what I was feeling. And couldn’t say I wasn’t enjoying myself. I had ferocious urges to have fun and I didn’t need to do much to satisfy those urges.
I opened my mouth gently and carefully, watching in fascination as my body did the same. My tongue traced my spirit lips and I shuddered at the salty taste. To my extreme delight, my body copied.
I had to stop for a moment as an excited nurse rushed in. The force yanked me into the air and I struggled against its grip. There was something it didn’t want me to see, and I was determined to find out what. The nurse pulled back the covers on my body and I gasped in surprise.
Chapter 34
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