My eyes open and I’m surrounded by darkness. I don’t remember how I got here, or even where I was before I fell asleep. All I know is I can’t move my arms or legs, and my mouth is forced shut with a piece of tape. I whimper a little, and take a deep breath. I smell it: that musty dirty smell. Then my eyes go wide; I know where I am. Immediately the panic starts to set in, and I start to breath rapidly through my nose. Beads of sweat form at my brow and make their way down my face…I feel disgusting. The shed walls are starting to close in around me. They start slowly at first but then their pace quickens. I moan through my gag, begging someone or something to help me but there is nobody around to hear my cries. I’m going to be smothered…I’m going to die…

Then a brilliant light floods into my hellish world. I squint, and try to prevent the light from hurting my eyes, before I see a human figure appear before me. I don’t need to question who it is, I think I would know Shane anywhere. I cringe, and moan a little. Please don’t kill me.

“Hey sweetness.” He steps inside the shed and crouches down to my level. “Did you sleep well?” He pulls me into an upright position and shoves his gun into my temple when I ignore him. “I asked you a question, Kerri.”

Since I can’t speak, I nod quickly and hope it’s a good enough answer for him.

“You know, on the way up here I was mad at myself for not shooting you when I had the chance,” he informs me. “But you know, if I had…Justin would have never realized how much he loves me. He would have been too broken up about you. So, thanks for sticking this whole thing out.”

I start to shake uncontrollably. I know this is the end. He’s going to shoot me and dump my body here. I wonder…will anybody ever find me?

“It’s time to go,” he tells me. He stands up and grips me by the ankles, before sliding me out of the door by them. I start to whimper and moan. I try to be loud; I need somebody hear me before Shane shoots me. But there is nobody around to hear my pathetic muffled cries. I accept this, I have to. I have to accept that I’m about to die…

“NO!” My eyes open again, and I’m even more confused than I was before. It’s dark again, but this time I can move my legs and arms and there isn’t any tape over my mouth. The floor is still hard; but that dirty musty smell has been replaced by the scent of…vanilla? I force myself to sit up, and my eyes dart wildly around the room. I take a few deep breaths and try to remember…I try to remember anything. Yesterday, what was yesterday? Tuesday? No…Wednesday, right. What happened on Wednesday, Kerri? Suitcases…Trace. I helped Trace pack. I’m at Justin’s house. I got into bed at five after eleven with a book and some coffee. I promised myself I wasn’t going to fall asleep, because Trace threw out every bottle of liquor in the house and I knew that I would have some weird nightmare if I allowed myself to rest. But then, I guess I gave into my fatigue. Yeah, and look what happened.

I slowly rise up from the floor. I’m in Justin’s guest room. Somehow I fell off the bed and onto the floor. Shane isn’t here, I’m alive…I’m okay. “Oh God,” I moan pathetically before sprawling out across the bed. I look at the digital clock on the night stand. Damn, it’s nearly seven in the morning. I need to get up and make Justin his coffee. Trace told me I have to stick to his schedule, because if I don’t Justin will get all freaked out. I’m scared. I’m alone in this house with him and I have no idea how to act around him. It’s stupid. His personality couldn’t have changed that much in three years. I’m sure he’s still the same grumpy morning person he’s always been. His mood just might be a bit more intense, that’s all.

I can relate to that. I’m insecure and paranoid to the point where I think I might be going crazy. And the fact that Trace has caught onto my drinking problem isn’t helping me. When I got here, Justin’s bar was overloaded with bottles of alcohol, and I thought I was in heaven. But yesterday Trace made sure to dispose of them. “I know you don’t have a problem,” he lied as he poured another bottle of Jack down the sink. “But I don’t want to risk you getting drunk around Justin. He knows he’s not allowed to drink right now, and you know…temptation is a bad thing.”

I didn’t believe a word he said to me. I know he thinks I’m a drunk and hell, I‘m starting to believe it too. But it pissed me off. He doesn’t understand that I need the stuff to get to sleep at night. I don’t know what I’m going to do all week. I can’t just not sleep. Justin needs me to be alert for his sake. Maybe I can get him to run to the store with me so I can pick up some stuff…yeah. Then I’ll hide it, and indulge myself when he isn’t paying attention.

The alarm starts to buzz annoyingly in my ear, and I know I can’t wait around any longer. It’s time to start the day. I slide off the bed and make my way out of the bedroom and into the hall. I can hear the soft murmur of the television a few doors down and I know that Justin is already awake. I’m tempted to go say good morning to him, but I figure he’s probably grumpy and needs his cup of coffee more than he needs to see me. I quietly make my way down the large mahogany stair case, through the great room, and into the kitchen. Justin’s monstrosity of a coffee machine rests at one end of the counter, right next to the Italian Cappuccino maker. Trace showed me how to use them both before he left yesterday, and I think I have the coffee maker down; but the cappuccino machine is out of the question. There’s all these valves and shit…I know if I tried to use it I would break it, and I’m sure that machine is worth a few thousand dollars.

I open up the cabinet where the glasses are stored and notice a note taped inside the door. I pull it down and look at it. I recognize Trace’s handwriting immediately and I smile. He told me that he left little reminders all over the house, so I wouldn’t forget anything I’m supposed to do. I scan the page, and laugh a little when I realize that Trace took it upon himself to write out a ‘how to’ for the coffee maker and Cappuccino machine. Damn, when did he have time to do that? Elisha barely let him out of her site yesterday, except for the hour or so she was busy packing her own things. But even then, I was helping him pack his stuff. I shrug and sigh. I guess it doesn’t matter. I lay the page flat and pull a coffee mug out of the cabinet. I follow the instructions, and I’m surprised at how easy they process turns out to be. I smile again. I feel like I’ve accomplished something and it feels good. Most of the time I feel worthless, like I can’t do anything right.

Once the coffee is done, I pour some into Justin’s mug and get his morning medication ready before making my way upstairs again. Now I’m getting nervous. I’ve never done this before, and Trace told me to be prepared because Justin sometimes has mood swings in the morning. But it’s impossible for me to prepared for something like that. I hate to be screamed at…especially since the kidnapping. If I go in there and he yells at me, I’ll probably spill this coffee all over myself. God, gross…I’ll have to take like ten showers if that happens.

His door is open a crack and I slowly inch my way inside. I see him. He’s sitting up in bed, and Good Morning America is blaring on the television. Justin isn’t paying attention though. He’s writing in that book he’s always carrying around with him. Damn. I don’t want to startle him, but I don’t want his coffee to get cold either…

“You can leave it on my night stand.” He doesn’t look up from his writing as he says the words to me.

I gasp a little. I’m shocked that he heard me come in. With the television and all, I didn’t think he would.

“Leave it,” he grunts. His scribbling gets more rapid, and I know he doesn’t want me to bother him anymore.

I feel the tears well up behind my eye lids. I don’t know what to do. Trace said that he always watches TV with Justin in the morning. So, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do too? I step closer to him, and put his coffee mug on the nightstand like he told me to. “I wanted to say good morning,” I say finally, hoping that he’ll lighten up a little.

He drops the pen and closes his journal quickly, before looking up at me. “Morning,” he grunts. He takes his coffee and brings the cup to his lips, sipping it a little before putting it down again. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready to take a shower,” he nods.

“Don’t you want me to stay?” I ask him, even though I already know his answer.

He lets out an annoyed sigh. “Does it seem that way?”

I can’t even answer him. I know that if I do, I’ll end up losing my own temper; and that’s something that Justin doesn’t need to deal with this morning. So I keep my mouth shut, my expression calm, and I don’t say anything more to him. I simply plop his pills on his nighstand and walk out of the room.

“Kerri,” I hear him call to me when I’m almost halfway down the hall. I know I should ignore him and keep on going, but I can’t do it. So I pause, fully aware of the disappointment I’m about to bring upon myself, and wait for him to say something else to me. Part of me is hoping that he’s reconsidered and wants me to stay after all. Yeah, he realizes how foolish he’s acting and he knows he needs me.

I turn around and walk back to the door. “Yeah,” I manage.

I hear him shuffle to the doorway. He pulls it open all the way; revealing himself to me. I‘m able to study him for a few moments. He looks annoyed but well rested, and suddenly a feeling of extreme jealousy begins to overtake me. Justin sleeps at night. No, he‘s not okay. He‘s far from okay. But he doesn‘t have to force himself to stay awake at night to keep his demons away. He has help…pills, a doctor, and family and friends that love him. He can close his eyes at night and not be afraid. He doesn’t have to drink himself to sleep. He can just do it, like every other person in the world.

It‘s not fair.

“What are you staring at,” he grunts.

I gasp and straighten myself a little. “N-nothing,” I mumble. “Sorry.”

He shoots me a confused glare, and then sighs. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to get in the shower,” he nods. “Okay?”

I frown. “Oh. Okay.”

“You should eat something, you don’t look so good,” he informs me, before closing the door in my face.

I’m left standing alone in the large hallway, my mouth hanging open slightly. Damn it, he’s just made me angry. Who is he to tell me that I don’t look good? I’m much better off than him. I didn’t cut myself. I’m not the one on meds. I’m not the one that has to be babysat. God, this is insane. I should just go downstairs and find something to occupy myself with until Justin is ready, before I become more upset. So, I take my own advice. I slowly make my way downstairs again, and into the kitchen. It’s weird. This house seems so much bigger with Trace and Elisha gone. Big and empty…hollow. Hollow like I feel inside.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal. It’s Apple Jacks, and normally I won’t touch this crap with a ten foot pole, but I don’t have much of a choice. It’s the only cereal Justin has in the house, despite the fact that his pantry is the size of the closet in the guest room I’ve been inhabiting. It’s sick. He has boxes and boxes of it, like the stuff is going out of style or something. I mean, I know it’s his favorite cereal and all but really, are all those boxes necessary?

I sigh, and reluctantly pop a spoonful of the cereal into my mouth, before starting to read the back of the box. I’m almost halfway through the nutrition facts when I spot it. I can see it because it’s right in my eye level with the box, and I try to ignore it but my mind won‘t allow me to. There on the table…a little bit off the center, there is a ring. Somebody had a drink and didn’t bother to put a napkin under their cup. The ring, it’s sort of pink, and I think it might be Kool-Aid but I can’t be sure. All I know is it’s driving me absolutely insane right now. Germs…so many germs. Why don’t people think! Don’t they know how many germs can thrive in a little puddle of juice like that? My God, we could get E Coli and die.

I don’t hesitate a moment longer. I rise from the table, and take my cereal with me just to be on the safe side. I don’t want to give the germs a chance to attack my food. I carry it over to the counter and place it next to the coffee machine. Then I get a sponge and venture into the cabinet underneath the sink in search of cleaning supplies. I’m relieved when I find scouring powder and some disinfecting wipes. I carry the items over to the table and then I get to work. I use the wipes on the ring first, and after getting the initial stain off the table, I sprinkle the area with the powder. Then I scrub, so hard that no germ could possibly survive. But this isn’t enough. I know the germs could have easily spread all over the table by this time, because the ring probably formed last night when we were all eating dinner. Trace, I think he was sitting in that spot. I’ll have to have a talk with him about this when he comes back from Barbados. It’s bad enough that Justin has all of these mental issues. He doesn’t need to be getting sick on top of it too.

I wipe down the rest of the table with the wipes, and then sprinkle the scouring powder all over the table top. I give the entire table a good scrub down, and it takes me a good twenty minutes before I’m somewhat satisfied with my job. No, it’s still not completely disinfected; but I know if I want to get a proper cleansing in I’ll need at least three hours and I don’t have three hours to spend cleaning right now. Justin will be ready for his shower soon and I know I’m going to need all of my energy when it comes time to check his body.

I’m not ready for this. I haven’t been ready for this since Trace originally asked me to do this for him. But I couldn’t just tell him I wasn’t ready. I knew that he needed to get away, because he’d been through so much already and his relationship with Elisha was suffering because of it. So I guess I faked my true feelings. I went into this whole spiel about how it would be a challenge, and how I wanted to reconnect with Justin and being alone with him was the best way to do it. Bullshit…it was all bullshit. And now I have to face the consequences. I’m terrified. What if I fuck up? What if I touch him the wrong way and he freaks out? Hell, what if I see his scars and I start to freak out? Trace told me about them before he left. He told me to be prepared because seeing something like that for the first time is pretty heart wrenching. I’ve tried to prepare myself though, I really have…but I just…I don’t think it’s possible for me to prepare myself for this. Just knowing that Justin did that to himself…that he did it partly because of me, because I left…

The tears glide freely down my face, and I hate it. I hate that I can’t control myself right now. I hate that I can’t handle this. That I can’t handle any major challenge that I’m handed. I’m a failure, an obsessive freak.

How could Trace, or anybody for that matter, trust me to care for Justin? Jesus, I know I’m going to screw up. I just know it…

“Kerri, are you there?”

Justin’s voice booms through the intercom on the wall, and I jump slightly. I forgot he could do that. I toss the sponge into the sink, and wipe my wet hands on my sweatpants before pushing the button on the intercom to respond to him. “I’m here,” I say gently.

“Well I’m ready.” His voice quivers slightly as he says the words, and I know that he’s just as terrified of all of this as I am. “So just come up whenever okay?”

“Okay,” I say quickly, and release the button. I want to hide. I want somebody to come and rescue me from my responsibilities. For a moment I think…Trace, I’ll call him and he’ll come home and handle this for me. Sure, Elisha will be pissed but really, who cares? I snatch the portable phone off of it’s cradle and begin to dial Trace’s cell phone number frantically, not even thinking about the consequences. I don’t care about anybody but myself right now. Nothing and nobody…

Well, Justin. I care about Justin. Shit. I stop dialing and put the phone back. If Justin knew I was trying to get Trace to come home from his vacation he would never forgive me. Justin wanted Trace to take this vacation more than anything, despite the fact that being alone with me makes him uncomfortable. He’s putting himself through this for Trace, and I know I need to go along with the plan so Justin will be happy. That‘s why I‘m here, so Justin can be happy again.. “Snap out of it, Kerri,” I tell myself. “Right now.”

I take a few moments to collect my thoughts before I venture out of the kitchen and back upstairs. I almost go straight to the bathroom, but then I remember I’m going to need my key to unlock the medicine cabinet. Trace wasn’t kidding when he said he put locks on everything that could cause harm to Justin. There’s a lock on every drawer, on every cabinet door, on every medicine cabinet, and the set of keys that Trace gave me is so bulky, I can’t close my hand around it. The whole situation is weird. I’m starting to feel more and more that I’m a warden in some sort of minimum security prison and that Justin is enemy number one. It can’t be fair to him…not having freedom to do as he wishes in his own home. I wish I could change the rules and tell him that he can do whatever he wants, but at the same time I know that wouldn’t help him at all. He needs to be looked after. He’s still too weak and vulnerable to be alone with the things that can hurt him.

And today…right now, is just another step in his rehabilitation process. But if I keep standing around, dwelling on my fears and insecurities he’s never going to get anywhere. I enter my bedroom and quickly swipe the set of keys off of my nightstand. Then I make my way to the bathroom. I can hear the faucet running, but then it suddenly stops, and I know that just beyond the closed door Justin is waiting for me to come and do my duty. I close my eyes, I take a breath and then…I push the door open.

Justin is sitting edge of the tub, still fully clothed, his head buried in some book. I take a closer look at the cover. It says Going the Extra Mile: 1001 Ways to Improve Your Self Image. I smile a little. I’m sure Madison must have recommended it to him, and I’m happy for him. I’m happy that he has somebody so influential in his life right now. I won’t admit it to anybody, but I have a lot more respect for Madison now than I had in the beginning. She was really there for him the night that guy did those horrible things to him in the clinic. She made sure his friends were there, and that he felt safe. A tiny part of me almost wishes I could talk to her about what’s going on with me, but I would never do it. I can’t talk to people like that. I’m too private I guess, and she’s Justin’s doctor. I wouldn’t want to pull her attention away from him.

“Did you eat?”

I meet Justin’s gaze. His eyes are wide, intense, almost like he’s afraid of me. I know I feel the same way inside, and I’m trying as hard as I can not to let my feelings show. “Yeah,” I force out. “You know, all you have is Apple Jacks in there.”

He folds the corner of the page to mark his place and drops the book to the floor. “I know,” he nods. “I like ‘em. When I was at the place, they only gave us cornflakes in the morning. And you know, since I can’t really use the stove by myself right now…cereal is a good thing to have around.” He stands up and looks at me long and hard. “Well…” he says quietly.

I don’t even know where to start. How does Trace do this with him? I’m tempted to ask Justin, but I don’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already is. What do I do? Do I tell him to strip? Do I wait for him to strip? “Uh, well…” I want to kick myself for letting such a stupid response come out of my mouth. Justin needs me to be the strong one right now. Trace even told me that. He told me that I should try not to let anything affect me. He told me that every situation should be treated like an every day occurrence, no matter how weird it might be. But this? This is entirely too awkward of a situation for me to treat it normally.

“Trace checks me first.” Justin’s voice snaps me out of my daze. “Then I shave, and then I shower.”

I stare at him like he’s speaking a foreign language. I didn’t expect him to be so forward, so…ready for this. Maybe he is getting better…a lot better, at a much faster pace than any of us have realized. “Oh…”

“You know, if you’re uncomfortable I understand,” he says quietly. “I mean, I’m uncomfortable too. And you know, I’m sorry I was kind of an asshole before.” He looks down at the floor, and shakes his head a little. “I guess I’m scared or whatever. Nobody else has done this besides the people at the clinic and Trace.” Then he meets my gaze again, and this time I can see how truly terrified he is.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’ll be quick and then you know, you’ll just do your thing and shave and then it will be over.”

He nods and forces a smile, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. But he doesn‘t say anything else to me. He quickly lifts his t-shirt over his head; revealing the white tank top underneath. He tosses the shirt to the side, and lifts his tank top up. He’s trembling, but I don’t point this out. I take a few steps toward him and survey his chest and stomach. He doesn’t have a scratch on him, and I’m positive that he never cut himself on his upper body before. His body…it’s still as perfect as I remember it too. Justin has one of those killer washboard stomachs. The kind that most of the guys on campus wish they could have, and the kind that every girl wishes their boyfriend could have. I’m glad Justin is still in shape. He works his ass off trying to maintain his body, and if this whole thing made him stop caring…then he would really be in a bad position. It’s sad to admit, but Justin needs his body to look good, to maintain the level he’s at in his career. It’s what makes this business suck, and it’s also what makes Justin goes on all of those ridiculous diet binges. Yeah, the end result is awesome…but the crap it takes to get the results is horrible.

“Kerri?”

I stop gawking at his muscular perfection and meet his gaze again. “Yeah?”

He gives me an annoyed look. “I’m turning around now okay?”

“Oh.” I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, you’re fine go ahead.”

And he does. I take a look at his back, not hesitating to gaze at the tatoo just at the base of his neck. It’s new. Well probably not that new…but he didn’t have it before we stopped talking. “New tattoo?” I find myself asking him, even though I’m sure he wants to get this over with quickly.

“Oh…yeah,” he says. “It’s for my mom. It’s a guardian angel. I got it done a little bit after I put out Justified, you know, just because of everything she’s done for me. It’s kinda corny I guess…”

“No, it’s not,” I interrupt him.

He turns to face me. “You don’t think its gay?”

This situation has just gone from slightly uncomfortable, to nearly unbearable. I realize all too quickly that he’s not asking me about his tattoo. That look on his face…in his eyes, it’s asking me if I think that he‘s gay. I don’t know quite what to say, but I know I need to stay positive for his emotional well being. “Not at all,” I say quietly, hoping my words will be enough to rid him of his insecurities for the time being. “I think it’s really sweet.”

“Uh…sure.” He continues to stare at me, like he’s not sure he can believe what I’ve just told him. But then he seems to snap out of it, and quickly yanks his shirt down. “My scars are down here.” He points to his thighs.

Then it hits me. This is it. This is what I really need to be prepared for. I can’t cry when I see them. I can’t let him know how much it pains me to see what he did to himself. I…I can’t let him know that I blame myself for it. I have to hold it all inside of me, until I’m alone again. Then I can cry, then I can pound my pillow and ask God why this had to happen. But until then, I’m going to be calm, cool, and collected. Or at least I‘m going to try. “Okay,” I say softly. “Just…go ahead when you’re ready.”

He doesn’t hesitate. He pulls off his sweatpants, and makes sure to avoid meeting my gaze as he does so. At first I expect to see a horrendous amount of scarring up and down his legs, and I’m shocked when I see nothing but clear, healthy skin. Damn, Justin hid this really really well, and it’s horrible because I know he didn‘t have a choice. He does so many photo shoots and things that his secret would have been given away if he cut himself anywhere else besides his thighs. It’s horrible to think about him doing it to himself. Sitting alone somewhere, so scared, so hopeless, and bleeding out his pain.

Oh God…

“Are you sure you can do this?,” I hear him whimper.

I hear the fear and hopelessness in his voice, and I quickly force my tears back. I make myself look into his eyes, and somehow I manage to smile. “It’s fine, Justin,” I reassure him. “Go ahead.”

He nods slightly, and then rolls up the legs of his boxer shorts. I crouch down, and then I see it, and its…its just horrible. There are so many marks and scars covering his thighs, I can barely see the spots where there isn’t any damage. I start to choke up, and I try as hard as I can to force my tears back like before; but this time it doesn’t work. I feel them glide down my face, but I force myself not to sob or whimper. I reach out and touch one of his scars and I feel his entire body shudder. “You’re okay,” I tell him, before taking a closer look at his scarring. Trace told me that it’s important to check the big cuts, in case they start to become inflamed or whatever. If they are I have to make sure Justin puts cream on them…but thankfully they all seem fine…

What the hell is that?

My eyes widen when I see the words scratched into his inner right thigh, and I shake my head a little. What does that mean? I shouldn’t ask him, but then I hear the question escape out of my mouth faster than my brain can stop it. “What happened?”

He glances down at himself, and I hear him groan softly. “It’s nothing. I was just really messed up one night. I don’t even remember doing it to myself.”

He speaks too quickly though, and in my heart I’m sure that he knows exactly why he scratched that phrase into his leg. But he’s not going to tell me, not today at least, and I have to deal with it. It’s not my place to pressure him about it anyway. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “You’re okay.”

“I’m…I’m not okay,” he whispers. “Look at me Kerri. Look at what I did, just look!” he cries. “That’s not what a man does, Kerri. I’m supposed to be strong, and be able to deal with everything. Damn it…”

I wait for him to continue his speech, but when he doesn’t, I force myself to look away from his cuts and look back at him. He’s covered his face with one of his hands, in a pathetic attempt to hide his tears Every few seconds he hiccups a little and I know if he was alone he’d be hysterical. But what do I do? Do I sit here and wait until he stops, or do I get up and comfort him? Hell, does he even want to be comforted by me?

“Why’d he do it?” he manages to say, his hand still covering his eyes and forehead. “Why’d Shane make me this way?” He uncovers the rest of his face, and backs up into the wall. He stares at me for a few moments before sliding down to the floor. “I just wanted to go home for a weekend and spend time with my family…I wasn’t hurting anybody.”

“Justin…” I try to think of something meaningful to say, but I can’t think of anything at the moment. I’m so pained by what he’s going through that my thoughts are all jumbled together. I’m in a fog, and I wish I could get my damn act together. I’m the one Justin is relying on right now. I’m supposed to be helping him through this, not just sitting her gawking at him like he’s a freak or something. “Justin, let me help you,” I finally say. I move closer to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Please let me help you.”

“You can’t help me,” he sobs. “Nobody can. I’m just…I’m gross okay?”

I frown. “You aren’t gross.” My voice cracks a little, and I want to kick myself. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault, and you’ve come a hell of a long way since then. You’re getting better, Justin. You don‘t cut yourself anymore, and you‘re going to go back to work and everybody is going to love you okay?” I find myself rubbing my hand over one of his thighs soothingly, and somehow I manage to send him a genuine smile.

But he doesn’t seem comforted by my reassuring speech. His gaze lands on my hand, and his expression falls into a intense, frightened one. “No,” he grunts. “Get off of me!” He slaps my hand away from his leg and wraps his arms around himself.

He’s afraid of me.

I clutch my hand, and the tears flood my vision. I’m not in any pain, just intense shock. It’s like he thought I was about to hurt him or something…or maybe…molest him? “Justin,” I whisper, and meet his gaze again. He looks more frightened of me than he ever has and I just want to get away from him. Far, far away so I can’t cause him any more pain. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Right,” he cuts me off sternly. “You shouldn’t have. And it’s not going to happen again is it?”

I shake my head roughly.

He slowly rises from the floor, and takes in a deep breath before speaking again. “I need to get in there,” he points to the shower. “Go get my razor so I can shave all right?” He sniffles loudly, and turns away from me.

I bite down on my lip, and quickly do as he’s asked of me. I unlock the medicine cabinet with my key, and take out his razor and shaving cream. “Razor and cream, that’s all you need right?” I ask him, before locking the cabinet.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” I lock the cabinet, and Justin practically shoves me out of the way so he can have the sink to himself. I’m a little disgusted with him, but I can’t say I blame him. This is the first day, and I knew it was going to be hard…but I guess I was hoping that it wouldn’t have to be this hard.

Justin quickly lathers up and carefully begins to run the razor across his face. I keep my focus on him at all times, like Trace instructed me to do. But I don’t think it matters if I do or not. Justin has no desire to cut himself right now, at least I don’t think he does. I could probably leave the room right now, and go puke in the sink like I want to and I’m sure he would be fine. And I almost do it. I start to get up, ready to leave Justin to fend for himself, but then he starts to speak again.

“I don’t mean to come off as a jerk, okay? It’s just like…my thoughts are all jumbled together right now and I don’t know what the hell to think about all of this. I didn‘t want to cry in front you…but everything just hit me at once, you know?”

I try to think of something good to say, but I can’t think of anything. Not anything that would reassure him anyway. So, I just sit and watch him finish shaving. He doesn’t say anything else to me, and I figure I’ve probably annoyed him more by not trying to console him. It’s only when he finishes rinsing the excess cream off of his face that he turns to look at me.

“Kerri.”

I look down at the tile on the floor. “Yeah?”

“Are you sorry that you came here?”

His tone is soft and sad, and it causes me to look up at him. His expression is as sad as his voice sounds, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing because I don’t want him to break down and start crying again. I mean, of course I’m not sorry that I’m here. I’m happy to be here…happy to be helping out. Maybe the question is, am I sorry that I agreed to stay alone with Justin for the week? I think I might be a little regretful, but I won’t admit it to him. I can’t, because he needs me to be strong for him. “Of course not,” I finally say. “I just…I guess I just feel a little weird around you right now.” I cringe a little. I don’t think I wanted to let him know that much.

“Weird?” He cocks his head to the side, and hands me his razor back. “Why?”

I get up and put the razor back into the cabinet, before answering him. “I don’t know, Justin. It’s just hard I guess, seeing you this way.” Once I get the cabinet locked I turn to face him again. The sad expression on his face has been replaced with a slightly annoyed one and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “You used to be so different.”

“Yeah, different.” He lets out a sad chuckle, and shakes his head. “I wasn’t a fag.”

Justin’s insecurity about his sexual preference has been nagging at me since I found out the truth about what Shane did to him. I know the fact that he was raped by a man has left him extremely confused. Does he even know what to do with himself? Can he even look at women the same way as he did before? I doubt it, but I wish I could convince him that he isn’t gay…that he’s just confused and terrified of what happened to him. And that brings my thoughts back to Cameron too. Justin and Trace don’t talk about her, and she never calls for him or anything. I mean, I know they’re ‘separated’ right now; but Trace told me that was Madison’s suggestion. I think that’s a lie though. I know Justin cared about her, from the way he talked about her in the basement. But if he cared about her and she cared about him then why isn’t she here?

That’s not a subject I should bring up.

I wish like hell that Shane was alive right now. I want to go to him, and kick him and hurt him and show him what he did to Justin. I want him to know what it’s like to live your life as a shell of the person you once were. I…I would give anything to be able to do that. “You aren’t gay.” I shake my head roughly. “You have to believe that Justin.”

But he only gets more annoyed by my comment. “Dammit Kerri!,” he yells, and punches the wall. “You don’t know what I am! Nobody knows…nobody knows what it‘s fucking like to be me!”

I gasp, and back up against the wall. I can’t take it when people get angry like this. It scares me, terrifies me. It reminds me of things that I’m constantly trying to forget. Like Shane, and his horrible temper…

I try to escape from this place, and get back to reality…back to the bathroom and Justin. But the harder I try, the more I realize that my memories are becoming reality. That the bathroom and the rest of Justin’s house are fading away and the basement is starting to take form. I can even smell that horrible musty smell, and then I see Shane and it’s so real that I feel like I’m going to vomit. He’s standing over Justin, just like he was that day he locked me in the shed. And he’s hitting Justin…punching him and kicking him so hard I don’t know how he‘s going to hold out. “Stop it!” I scream. I slide down the wall and wrap my arms around myself protectively. “Don’t hurt him Shane!”

“Please,” I sob. “Just let me see if he’s okay.”

“Please don’t do this,” I cry. “Just leave me here!”

“Kerri…Kerri look at me.”

I hear Justin’s voice, and I look up to see where it’s coming from. Then I see him. He’s looming over me, a sense of panic apparent on his face. He’s scared of Shane too. I’m not alone, and I almost feel relieved; but then the basement starts to fade away and the bathroom slowly comes back into view. Shane isn’t here. It’s only Justin and me, and Justin isn’t beat up and I’m not being dragged away to that god awful shed. And Justin, he’s not in a rage or going crazy or crying or anything like that. What I just saw was just an illusion, and I tremble a little, knowing that I may indeed be losing my mind. “We’re okay,” I tell him. “It’s okay now.”

He sighs and helps me to my feet. “What’s the matter with you?,” he asks me, as if he has no idea what could have triggered my sudden mental relapse.

I pull away from him and cross my arms over my chest. “Nothing,” I say, bluntly. “You just…you shouldn’t yell okay? I hate it when people yell.”

“Well if you would stop acting like you know everything, then maybe I won’t have to,” he states.

I stare at him. I stare at him long and hard because it seems like the only thing I can do to keep my anger inside of me right now. Christ, I just freaked out and he can’t even console me? He can’t just tell me that things are okay and he’s glad that I’m here? No…no he can’t because as always, Justin only cares about himself. And why should I be surprised? It’s not like this has never happened before.

“You know, I have enough going on without you getting all freaked out over nothing,” he continues. “Just relax okay?”

But I can’t relax now, because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the fact that I was there too. That I suffered right along side him, and that I’m just as fucked up as he is. Trace is right. Damn it, just because I didn’t go through the same shit that he did, doesn’t give him the right to act like he deserves more sympathy or whatever it is. “You weren’t the only one there,” I say softly, even though I feel like screaming it at him. “I went through it too okay? Maybe…maybe Shane didn’t…do that to me but, I was there.”

Now, he stares at me.

“I…” he starts to say, but I shake my head roughly and he stops speaking.

“Just leave it,” I whisper. I yank open the door and storm out into the hallway.

“Wait a second.”

I know he‘s right behind me, but I force myself not to turn around and give into him. I just need to get away from him for a bit, and let this morning sink in a little more. “Leave me alone,” I tell him, before running down the hallway and into my room. He knocks on the door a few moments later, but I won’t let him in. There’s no way for me to lock the door of course, but I know Justin and I know he wouldn’t just barge in here like that. “Go away!” I yell.

“Kerri this is stupid,” he mutters. “We’re supposed to be a team.”

I don’t answer him. I back into the corner of the room, and sink down to the floor. I wrap my arms around my knees and rock my self back and forth, hoping that if I stay quiet long enough he’ll simply give up and go back to what he was doing.

“So you’re just going to leave me out here alone all day?,” he asks.

But I still don’t answer him.

He shouts a few obscenities at me through the door, and a moment later I hear him storm back down the hallway. A door slams, and I know he’s gone back into the bathroom. Good. Now we can stay out of each others way. I almost smile, but then I think of Trace, and how angry he would be if he knew I was locking myself away from Justin. He needs you, Kerri, he would say to me, with that famous look of disappointment on his face. But Trace isn’t here, so I shouldn’t’ be thinking about what he would do or say. Justin put this on himself. He needs to learn to control himself in front of me, and understand that I’m still very unstable.

I curl up on the bed and turn the TV on, hoping that it will take my mind off what just happened. But it doesn’t help. The news program I tuned into has gone to a commercial break, and as my luck would have it; the commercial is for Absolute Vodka. I see two young girls sitting at a bar, giggling about the cute bartender, before they are handed their drinks. “Cheers,” one of them laughs. Then the screen turns black and a logo for Absolute appears before my eyes. I think I’m drooling. I touch my hand to my lip…shit, I am. I haven’t had a drink in days. I sit up, clutch the pillow to my chest, and think. Drink…Whiskey, Beer, Wine…anything. I need a drink. A drink will solve it all. I can sleep, I can dream, I can escape from everything that’s happening. For a moment, I almost forget the fact that Trace took it upon himself to pour every drop of alcohol in the house down the sink. But then the realization hits me, and…and I’ve never hated Trace more in my life.

Damn him. Damn him for keeping it from me.

“No,” I shake my head in annoyance, and rub my hand over my face. “You don’t hate Trace,” I tell myself stupidly. “He’s trying to help.”

But I still need a drink.

Wait…

This house is huge. And Trace, he was rushing when he got rid of all the liquor that day. Right, Elisha was nagging at him to finish preparing the house, so they could go to dinner. I know it’s a long shot, especially because Trace is so fucking anal these days. But I mean, there might be a chance he missed a bottle or two. I know he likes to drink, and Justin used to before all of this happened. Maybe Justin has a stash that Trace doesn’t know about. Or maybe Trace has a few bottles of his own that he thinks nobody knows about. Hell, I’m desperate. Desperate and bored. And since I’m so desperate and so bored, I might as well go exploring. If anything, it will keep my mind off of Justin and off what happened in the bathroom. So, I’ll do it. And when I find my drink I’ll feel better and I’ll sleep and everything will be okay…

Just for a little while.