Too frustrated to continue writing about all this crazy bullshit, I silently close my tattered journal, and shove it under my thigh. I stare at Trace, as he empties yet another drawer full of his clothes into his suitcase, praying that he‘ll say something…anything to reassure me right now. But he says nothing to me. He won’t even look me in the eyes. He just packs. Quickly, rapidly; as if he can’t wait to get the hell away from me. It kills me to see him doing this, leaving. He’s leaving me…abandoning me. Just like Kerri did…just like Cameron did. After everything that’s gone on, he’s the last person I expected to give up on me. But…he is. But then again, I can’t say I really blame him either.

I want to call out to him. To beg him to reconsider, tell him I didn‘t mean what I said. But I know I can’t…because I’d simply be repeating myself. We’ve been over this and over this, more times than I’d like to remember over the past two days. And we agreed…well, he agreed…that he’s not comfortable being in the same house as me right now. He told met that I have Kerri, and that I’ll be fine. But that…

But that he’ll kill me if I ever lay a hand on her again.

Trace finally came home, the night following my infamous blowout with him. Kerri and I were worried sick about him. We didn’t have a clue where‘d he‘d gone to all that time, and he hadn’t answered or returned my phone calls, or Kerri’s phone calls either. We’d been fixing dinner together around seven, trying to talk things out…trying to decide what were going to do if Trace didn’t’ call within the next twenty four hours. We both knew that I had to go to New York regardless of what Trace was feeling about all of this, and yeah, it made me mad. But that’s how this business is. Most of the time, my personal life is forced to come second, and I really don’t know how I’ve managed to live my life this way for all these years. Though, I guess I was a lot different before all of this happened. Things…didn’t effect me so much. I could kick back, be carefree…not really care if that guy on the other side of the street was staring at me funny. I could laugh at him…at all of them…

I don’t really laugh much anymore.

So, anyway, when he walked through the door, trailing a nervous looking Elisha behind him by the hand, I practically fell to my knees in shock. I hadn’t told Kerri, but deep inside, I’d feared the worst had happened to my best friend. Like I’d pushed him too hard, and that he’d gotten hurt in the worst way possible. And god, I was so thankful that he wasn’t harmed. I realized then, that if something had happened to him; if he’d gotten hurt or God, killed…that would have been it for me. I would have gone straight to the bathroom and slit my wrists or something. But…he wasn’t harmed…he was right there, with his girl. And I figured it was okay to be happy about that. I’d even smiled at him, quickly forgetting how much I’d probably hurt him. The selfish part of me had taken over, again and all I really cared about at that moment was that he was alive, and that my ass was off the hook once again.

“Jesus, Trace,” Kerri had wandered over to him, and shaken her head. “You should have called or something. I mean, my god…”

But he cut her off quickly, as he tends to do when he wants to get to the point. An intense expression of concern spread across his face…and he ran his hand down her bruised cheek. “What the hell happened to your face?,” he’d whispered, glancing at me after a moment.

“It’s um…” But she couldn’t get the words out. The next thing Kerri did was look to me for an answer. But hell, I don’t know why she thought I’d be able to provide one.

I’d froze, not being able to believe that I forgot about cracking Kerri across the face. How the bruise had formed into a large purple welt on the right side of her face, nearly identical to the one that she’d received from our captors when we were taken. I guess I was just so overwhelmed with the site of Trace standing there though, that nothing else had mattered to me. But…I received a rude awakening when the next thing that I heard was:

“What the fuck did you do, Justin?”

I remember looking at him. I remember not saying anything. And then I remember…him slamming me up against the wall. I’d been afraid; the vision of Shane standing before me, his gun shoved to my head, quite visible in my mind. Trace sort of started to mutate…like Doug had in the clinic. Like Cameron had when I’d hit her that night. Like Nathan had right before…right before I shot him. But this time, I didn’t’ start swinging. I didn’t start threatening or yelling. I just stood there, and let him pull me back and throw me roughly against the wall again. I’d whimpered…and then Shane was there, but this time I was ready. I’d learned how to drive him away. Madison taught me…she’d taught me well…

And I didn’t make a damn sound after that.

“What did you do to her!” He’d shaken me roughly. “You did it again, didn’t you…didn’t you!”

“Trace, stop it!” Kerri had screamed, her small, slender hands grabbing at his arm. “Please!”

It was all too familiar of a situation for the both of us, and I knew that. I remembered the basement, how Kerri and I fought. How I threw those stupid, ignorant comments at her. And then…how Shane had come, and changed my life forever with his fuckin twisted mind. I‘d tried to hold back the words forming on my tongue. But I was so terrified. Terrified of Shane and his gun, and I was desperate to make him stop. “Don’t do it, Shane,” I’d whimpered, struggling to break free of his grasp. “Please.”

“Baby.” Elisha’s soft voice was the next thing I’d heard. And then, Shane changed again. I saw Trace once more, and finally…he let go of me and backed off.

“Fuckin’ asshole,” he sneered, pulling Elisha into a hug. “I can’t believe you.”

“It’s fine,” Kerri had spoken up, trying to lighten the mood. “Trace, please…it was just a mistake.”

It was wrong, but something about the fact that she was defending me made me feel good inside. It meant she still trusted me. She still loved me. Almost like…I could do no wrong. The fact that I hit her…it simply didn’t matter. That was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. I wasn’t a freak. I wasn’t a fag or a monster anymore. I was still Justin in her eyes. And I knew I always would be.

“That wasn’t a fucking mistake,” Trace grunted, shooting me the coldest look I’d ever seen. “That’s what he’s really like Kerri. I…I didn’t want to tell you okay? But…this is how he is. Something goes wrong, and it’s like…”

“Shut up Trace!” Kerri screamed the words at him, so loud that I thought her vocal cords were going to snap. All three of us had frozen then, and simply stared at her. Elisha seemed the most freaked out about it, but then…I expected that from her. She hadn’t been around for a lot of the gory details of me…or Kerri, besides that one night on the beach. She didn’t really known our fears, our needs. And really, it’s still none of her damn business in my book.

“Ker--” Trace began again.

“No,” she’d sobbed and made her way over to me. I’d still been paralyzed with fear, leaning up against the wall for support. But then she put her arms around me, and helped me to stand up a little straighter. “He’s not any of those things,” she’d informed him. “Nobody understands us. Nobody okay? You weren’t there…you weren’t locked up and tortured. So don’t tell me what he is.” Then she’d buried her head in my chest, and started to cry; hard, heavy; taking long, raspy breaths in between her sobbing.

I’d tried to do the best I could to comfort her, but the way Trace and Elisha were standing before me, staring me down like the monster I truly was…wasn’t helping the situation. And I couldn’t say anything. There were no words. I’d known what I did…and I knew what a bad, horrible thing it was. But it wasn’t like I could go back and change anything. So I just stared…it was the best option.

And then he’d simply turned his back on me.

Being the best friends that we are, we’d somehow managed to talk a little bit the next morning. I’d been in my basement ,in front of the Pac Man game in the corner, trying to come up with a way to apologize to Trace. Surprisingly, he’d come down after a while and offered to play the two player version with me. Of course, I’d obliged…nervous, but at the same time I knew he wasn’t going to slam me into the wall again. I was sure he’d come down to talk to me. The fear of what he’d told me about Shane had been nagging me of course…telling me that I couldn’t trust him. But I didn’t want to listen. Sure, I knew he’d fucked up. But then again, I’d fucked up with him so many times in my life that I figured it was time to grow up and give him a little leeway. Granted, the subject of Shane is a sensitive one, and no…no I’m not over the fact that he hired the son of a bitch. But I wasn’t going to remind him about it…degrade him about it then, or ever again. I’m done with that.

We played a few rounds, Trace beating me almost every time; and then we decided we’d had enough fun and games. It was time to get serious. So we’d sat down in the overstuffed bean bag chairs in the corner and started a conversation that right now…I wish like hell hadn’t taken place.

“Level with me,” he’d said immediately, handing me a bottle of coke. “Okay?”

I’d nodded. “Trace, look…I’m so--”

“Justin,” he’d interrupted. “Just hear me out first, then I‘ll hear what you have to say.”

Of course, I wanted to voice my opinion. I wanted to reassure him that I didn’t hate him. That I’d been out of my mind when he’d told me about Shane, and I hadn’t been able to think straight. But I figured, the only way I was going to get to say anything rational to him, was if I sat and waited my turn. So I’d simply nodded. “Okay.”

“The other day,” he’d began with a sigh. “I…you know, I don’t think you understand how hard it was for me to tell you about Shane.“ He’d swept a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. “I’d been keeping it from you for a long time, man. I mean, even before I knew about your cutting problem, I’d known what I did. And it killed me…to know that I might have been the cause of what happened. But I knew I couldn’t tell you,” he’d explained. “Because you’d just gotten home and you were still upset. And Kerri was gone too. So I just…I kept it all inside, and you know, I shouldn’t have. I know that now.”

He was my best friend, and to know that he‘d basically been experiencing the same withdrawn feelings as I had for all that time, made me feel even more guilty about the horrible things I‘d said to him. I hated that he‘d gone through so much turmoil without my knowledge. Granted, I knew if he’d told me about Shane before that night on the beach, I probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it at all. Not that I handled it all that well anyway, but I knew I’d handled it better than I might have in the past. “Trace…”

“Wait,” he’d persisted.

I’d sat back again.

“I know you’re still handling this in your own way,” he told me, looking me straight in the eye. “Even if you say you’re sorry…and even if you try and act like it doesn’t bother you, I know you Justin. I know that deep down, you blame me for Shane…for all of this. And I understand that, and I accept it. But, you know…I’ve talked it over with people. I went to Elisha’s and we talked things out, and then I talked to Madison some more about it over the phone.” He’d folded his hands together and pressed his index fingers to his lips. “And it’s not my fault Justin,” he’d nodded. “No matter what you and Kerri tell me, and no matter how cold you act towards me…in here--” He’d pointed to his chest. “I know that I couldn’t have stopped this from happening.”

Then he was silent. He sat back in the bean bag, and continued to stare at me. Really, giving me the space I needed to talk. But I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless. Speechless because he was so damn right, and I…I felt like this horrible person for trying to put the idea in his head that any of it was his fault. I felt low, like a psycho and I wanted to run and hide from him. But then I remembered that it was Trace sitting in front of me. And I knew I had to try…I had to make an effort to explain myself, and apologize. “Trace,” I’d managed to whisper. “…I mean, man…you know how sorry I am. You have to know. You’ve been through the bulk of this with me; and now that the truth is out and I’ve been able to think it through a little, I know we’re going to be fine.” I’d waited for him to respond, to tell me that I was right. To tell me that we were best friends and that was all we needed to get through this horrible time. But when he simply stared at me, and didn’t so much as smile--I’d known something wasn’t right. “Trace. You gotta tell me what to do,” I‘d pleaded with him. “I don’t know what to do to make things right again.”

He‘d sat up a little, and sighed. “I think--we need some time apart.”

“Apart?” I’d nearly had a heart attack at the thought of not having Trace around to protect me anymore. Before Kerri came out here, before I went to the clinic, I’d wake up screaming most nights. Cam wouldn’t be able to calm me down either, and then…Trace would wake up; groggy but worried. And he would sit downstairs on the couch with me, and just listen. No, I hadn’t been able to tell him about the horrors of the rape or anything. But I was able to express how afraid I was, and that was reason enough for him to stay up with me all those nights. I couldn’t imagine life without him…

And I still can’t.

“It’ll only be for a month or two,” he’d explained, calmly . “I’ll come out for the VMA’s with you and Kerri, and then I’m going to come back here while you start the tour.”

“What…” I’d gasped. “Wait…why…” I’d felt my composure begin to crumble, and I tried, but I couldn’t hold back the few tears that escaped from my eyes. It was a scary thing, knowing that he wasn’t going to be there every single day like he’d been all along. If I needed him…if I had nobody else to turn to…I wouldn’t have a clue what to do. I knew Kerri and I were close, but…some things…some things are just Trace things. And Trace things need to be discussed with Trace. I knew him not being there would mess up the sync of my normal routine, too. And as Madison has always told me, routine is the most important step on the road to recovery.

“I need to sort out some things in my life, Justin,” he’d said. “Elisha is willing to take me back, now that I’ve confessed everything to her…and hell, I definitely want to try things with her again. I love her, and she deserves all the time and attention in the world from me. I need you to be strong and understand that.”

“But…” My voice had cracked and I’d covered my mouth to hold back my pathetic sobbing. I felt even more like the faggot that I am…being so weak and clingy. Like I needed him…I needed a man to be whole. It made me sick to my stomach, and I’d felt the puke rising out of my stomach and making its way up my esophagus. “I can‘t do this without you. They‘re all going to…look at me…and they’ll want touch me, Trace,” I’d choked out. “You know that! You’re supposed to be there. You’re supposed to help me!”

“Shh.” He’d smiled reassuringly and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay. Kerri is going to be with you the whole time, and I’m gonna call you…and you know, you can call me whenever…”

“No!” I’d said, finally breaking down. “You don’t…you don’t understand okay?” I’d wiped the snot off of my face with my sleeve. “I need you--”

“But I do understand,” he’d said, before I could get another word out. “I know you…depend on me for certain things Justin, and I don’t expect you to understand what I’ve been struggling with all this time…what I’ve been through. But I’ve been through shit, okay? And I’m fucked up…really fucked up because of it all. Madison referred me to a really good shrink, and I’ve agreed to start going to weekly sessions and stuff so I can clear my head. I’m gonna be fine, and…I don’t hate you or anything like that. I don’t want you to worry about it--I just want you go out on that tour, and perform, and be the confident, strong guy that you’ve always been. I know you can do it, Justin.”

I don’t really remember that many details of the conversation that followed. He’d just been rambling to me…his words a jumbled mess of high and low pitched sounds, that made no sense in my mind. All I could think was, I was being abandoned by my truest friend. All I could feel was terrified. And all I knew was…that I was going to go insane because of it all.

I was terrified then. And even though I haven’t told him…even though I’ve forced smiles for him and tried to be strong, the truth is, I’m fucking scared shitless now. He’s always been my lifeline, my confidant. The one person I could go to when everybody else seemed to resent me…even before the kidnapping. He’s listened to me…laughed with me, cried with me. He’s been there through it all; and now it’s like none of it even matters. He’s just moving on, he’s living his own life. And yeah, I know I’m selfish for being upset about that. Anybody would tell me that Trace deserves to do this for himself after everything I’ve put him through. But I’m still just…so fucking weak, despite what everybody thinks…

And I know in my heart that I’m going to be nothing without him.

“You packed your medication, Justin?” Trace zips his suitcase, and sighs.

I snap to attention, surprised that he’s decided to make any kind of conversation with me right now. “Kerri has it,” I whisper, clutching my journal and rising off of the sofa.

He nods. “And you’re sure you’re ready to go through with this…the awards and the concert?”

I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m ready for. After all of this shit…what happened between Trace and I, and how I hit Kerri…I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore. I’m going to need to be professional, composed, mature. Now, I know I can handle the mature part. This whole thing has knocked a few more years into me, and these days I’ve been feeling more and more like a middle aged adult, instead of the twenty three year old I truly am. I guess it’s the stress and fatigue…yeah. The stress from my personal life, and the fatigue from rehearsals, working out, and having conference calls with my management and record label. After the other day, I really don’t know how I‘m still standing. How I‘ve managed to pack my bags and get ready to go back and face the world. What happens if I snap? If somebody looks at me the wrong way or God…touches me, and I just lose it?

What the fuck happens then?

“I guess,” I manage to say. “But I’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable facing all of this, if I knew you were going to stick around, instead of going back--”

He cuts me off. “Don’t start this again.” He shakes his head. “Justin, we’ve had this conversation and you know what my final decision is. I need my life back just as much as you need yours back, you know?” He picks up his suit case and carries it over to the door, seemingly finished discussing the topic…and my feelings about it. “Justin.“ He looks back over his shoulder when I don‘t follow him, and throws me an impatient look. “Come on man, Tiny’s waitin’.”

Reluctantly, I pick up the suitcase that’s been resting beside me and force myself to follow Trace out of his bedroom and down the stairs. When we reach the bottom I spot Kerri and Elisha waiting by the front door. They’re talking, even laughing. I’m a little surprised. I mean, I thought they had some kind of grudge against each other. But I guess all of this has probably brought them a little closer…and I know Kerri needs somebody else to talk to besides Trace and I. She needs a girlfriend she can talk about things with. I know she used to have Siobhan, but from what Kerri has told me…they haven’t talked in awhile. It just one more thing that I’ve managed to fuck up in her life, and while I feel horrible about it…I know there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Nope, I can’t fix it…just like I can’t fix anything else I’ve done to her…or to Trace. I just have to live with it…all of it.

Until it the day I die.

“Hey.” Kerri finally notices us after a moment, and gives Trace a hug, before she embraces me tightly and pecks me on the cheek. I feel my face grown hot, embarrassed that she’s shown this much affection for me in front of Trace and Elisha. But then she smiles at me. It’s a warm, reassuring smile, and I forget about them…their impatient glances and gestures. The only person I see is her. My Kerri. My wonderful loving Kerri who will never leave me no matter what I say or what I do to fuck things up.

I love her.

“You ready to go?” She takes my free hand in hers, and laces her fingers through mine. “Or do you want to run away with me instead?,” she smiles.

I wish I could choose the second option, but judging by the impatient look on Trace’s face, I know that I’m obligated to walk out my front door right now. But, I really wish I didn’t have to. I wish I could drop my bag and drag Kerri upstairs. We would lay in my bed, cuddle…and I would just talk to her, and stare into her awesome blue eyes until I fell asleep. Then we would wake up…and we would make dinner…

“You kids comin?” Tiny sticks his head in the doorway and throws me an annoyed glance. “We ain’t got no time for puppy love you two.”

Elisha and Trace lock hands, and Trace leads her away…leaving Kerri and I standing in my house together. I stare at her, wanting to tell her about how scared I am…how I don’t want to go. How I don’t know how I’m going to face the media and my fans all over again. I want to crawl inside of her, let her embrace me…hide me from the world.

“You‘re okay,” she whispers as she hugs me again, so nobody can hear her but me. And I realize I don’t have to say a damn thing. She can read my mind, like she’s always been able to. She knows my doubts, my fears, my worries…and she cares. She really does.

“Let them all walk away from you Justin. Let Trace do what he has to do,” she says and strokes the back of my neck soothingly. “You’re stronger now…and I know you can do this.”

I wrap my arms tighter around her tiny body, and bury my face in her shoulder. “What if they touch me,” I can’t help but blurt out. “I don’t want them to touch me, Kerri.”

“I’m going to be right there with you,” she whispers. “I won’t let anybody do anything to you.”

I whimper a little. I feel stupid and pathetic for doing it too. But my emotions are so out of sync right now, I just can’t help myself. And the fact that Kerri is holding me like she is, comforting me…it makes me feel like it’s okay to break down. That it’s okay to cry a little bit. “I love you,” I whisper. It still scares the hell out of me…love. But strangely, it doesn’t scare me quite as much when it comes to Kerri. “I do.”

She pulls back from me, a sort of magic lighting up her amazing blue eyes. It’s been years since I’ve seen that look in her eyes, and I feel like I’ve just flipped a switch, sending us both back in time. “I love you,” she tells me, with a smile. “I love you too, Justin.”

We grab the rest of our luggage and walk out the door hand in hand. Once in awhile, I’ll look over at her, to make sure she’s still there. To make sure that this isn’t some crazy dream that I’m having. And she is still there, smiling back at me just as before. I’m not sure what this is the start of. I mean, I told her I loved her…but what kind of love is it? It’s not friendly love. It can’t be, because we’ve been through entirely too much in our lives, and we’re beyond that whether we want to be or not. But then if it’s not friendly love…it’s gotta be real love. True love. And…and I don’t know if I’m supposed to feel this way about her, or anybody else right now. Of course, Kerri and I have been through this…discussed this, and agreed that we’re not ready. But I mean, I know part of that agreement stems from us being terrified of each other. I’m so confused, and as time goes by and the tour starts I know things are only going to get more difficult for all of us.

As we get into the sleek limousine, Trace’s cell phone starts to ring, marking the beginning of our newest adventure of uncertainty. I grab Kerri’s hand and look at her, and she looks at me and smiles…

And despite everything, despite all the pain and fear and heartache; I know that somehow, someway…some day…we’ll make it through the darkness.