When we were little kids, Trace’s aunt started showing signs of Alzheimer’s. The disease progressed to a point where she was unable to live on her own, and they had to put her in a home. I know it was really hard on Trace’s family, especially on his mother because it was her sister. But there was nothing else they could have done for her. Trace’s family didn’t have a lot of money in those days, and there was no way they could have paid for in home care.

I remember going with Trace and his parents to visit her a bunch of times. We couldn’t really comprehend the situation that well, because we were so young…I think we might have been seven, maybe younger. We used to race up and down the hallways, and sometimes the tenants would get mad at us…but most of them liked us. I think we brought some excitement to their dull day time television filled lives. I don’t really know why he wanted me there, but I guess it was just weird for him…seeing somebody he loved in that state of mind. I mean, she didn’t even know who he was, and everybody knew that Trace was her favorite nephew. It was hard on him, really hard, and I guess having me there helped to soothe his worried young mind.

That placed smelled a lot like it does here: like Lysol and cough medicine mixed together. I hate it. It’s all I smell all day, everyday. I think the scent may be permanently embedded into my skin by now…but I’m sure that everybody confined in here has the same problem. I wonder if they notice it as much as I do? From what I hear, most of them have been in and out of places like this their entire lives. I’m sure smells are irrelevant to them at this point. The people…they remind me of the cranky old people at the convalescent home. Sure, they might be younger than those people, but they sure don’t act younger. They’re always so tired looking, and they’re always fucking complaining about something. It’s either the food, or the crappy television stations we get, or the temperature in here… if there’s something worth bitching about, no matter how irrelevant it may seem, they’ll bitch about it.

Me, I’m not really like the rest of the whackos in here. I tend to keep to myself and I never voice my opinions on anything, unless I feel it’s important. But really, everything that bothers me about living in this place, is all stuff that I’d expected to come with the territory anyway. It’s not worth my time to bring it up. This isn’t a vacation, or a hotel. It’s a fucking rehab clinic for crazy people who hurt themselves. All I need to worry about is getting better, so I can get back to my life.

Madison, that’s my doctor, she keeps telling me that I should open up more in group. She says its not healthy for me to sit there quietly, while everybody else gets their aggressions out. Then I tell her that I can’t just talk about what happened to me with people I don’t know. Admitting what Shane and I did to her was hard enough, because Trace is the only one that knew the truth before I told her about it. That’s right, I still haven’t told my parents, or anybody else close to me. Madison says that should be my next step, but I know I can’t take it. She doesn’t understand…I’m not like everybody else in here, my life is different. If the people in my life knew about Shane…I would be ruined.

The morning after Trace caught me bleeding on the beach, was awkward. I remember waking up in the middle of the night, because I heard somebody moving around in the hallway. I nearly got up to see who it was, but then I heard her voice…so soft, so sad. Cam left around five in the morning, without so much as a goodbye. It hurt me, a lot. I really didn’t think she would just walk out on me like that…when she knew what was going on with me. I mean, granted I hit her and shit…but when you love somebody, you don’t just…leave. I haven’t called her since, and she hasn’t called me. What we had is over now, and it was great while it lasted. It’s all Shane’s fault she left me and I’ve come to terms with it I guess. I can’t change what I did with him, I can’t change the past. The only thing I can do is move forward with all of this, and hope to god that someday I can act like a normal human being, instead of this monster that I’ve turned into.

Trace called my mom that morning, and asked if she and Paul could fly out and meet us for dinner. Of course she said they would. My mom is always happy when I want to see her, and usually, I’m equally as excited. But that day, I wasn’t excited at all. I knew I had to break the news to them…about what I’d been doing to myself. It scared me, because I didn’t know how they were going to take the news. Cutting is a scary thing. Hell, it scared me, and I was the one doing it to myself.

We decided to eat at Chi, because it’s the one place I can go where nobody will bother me. I have my own little section upstairs, where nobody is allowed to eat but me. It’s my table. My mom really loves the fact that I’ve invested my money is such a classy place. She’s proud that I’m being smart with my money…and I guess I‘m proud of myself too. But really, the only reason I put my money into the place, was because Cameron told me that I should have something to fall back on. Damn, I did so much shit because she told me it was a good idea. I listened…I loved her, and how did she repay me? She fucking left me to fend for myself.

I didn’t really waste a lot of time avoiding the reason I’d called my mother and Paul out to LA. I realized it wasn’t worth it, because the longer I waited to admit the truth, the longer it would take for me to get the help I needed. But my mom, she wasn’t helping the situation. She was so happy, and perky that evening. All she could talk about were the plans for the club tour, and the big European tour I have coming up, and how she and Paul are putting that new addition on the house. I really didn’t want to spoil her mood, because it was the first time I’d seen her completely happy since the kidnaping. She was getting over it, and I…I was about to bring her down again.

"Lynn." Trace broke the ice after our pot stickers were brought to the table. "Justin has something he needs to tell you."

I wanted to smack the hell out of him for being so forward, but I knew he was only doing it with my best interest in mind. He knew I had to get what happened out just as much as I did, and delaying it any longer only meant disaster. So I cleared my throat, and slowly agreed with him. "Yeah, I do," I said.

Her smile faded immediately. She knew there was something wrong right away, and I wasn’t surprised. My mother knows me inside out, and really…she probably had a gut feeling that I needed to tell her something before she landed in Los Angeles. I guess she was trying to see things in a positive light, but I sure put a stop to that. "What’s the matter?" she asked. "Aren’t you feeling well Justin?"

I tried to stop the tears from seeping out of my eyes, but I couldn’t hold them back. They crawled down my face, and dripped onto the tablecloth. I felt like I was eight years old again, and had to tell my mother that I broke the window while Trace and I were playing baseball. I felt horrible breaking her spirit…letting her down. And I could hear Shane’s voice in the back of my mind the whole time, telling me how ‘he told me so’. "No mom," I said to her. "I’m not feeling well."

Then Trace said. "Show her your arm."

I remembering rolling up my sleeve, and exposing the bandaged cut on my forearm. And then…I heard her gasp. I couldn’t even look at her for a good ten minutes. I just stared at my arm, and wished like hell I could have stopped cutting myself before the blade reached my arm that night. Then I met her gaze again, and saw how frightened she was. I knew I didn’t have to explain myself, because the look on her face was telling me she knew what I’d done to myself. "I’m sorry," I whispered. It was all I could think of to say.

Trace proceeded to tell her what was happening, and that he didn’t think it was something I could stop doing without seeking professional help first. I heard Paul agree several times, but my mom…she didn’t say anything for a long time. I was convinced that her love for me was gone, and that she was ashamed to call me her son. Then, I remember looking up at her, expecting the worst…but instead of telling me how angry she was with me, she reached across the table and took my hand. I think I might have smiled, but I really don’t remember.

"You don’t need to worry anymore. We’re going to get you the help you need." She said it with such confidence, that I started to feel better. She seemed to believe in me, and her love for me was definitely there. For the first time since I started cutting, there seemed to be a way out, and I felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. I started to think that it might be okay to tell her the other part…about what I did with Shane, but something stopped me. I still wasn’t sure about that. I mean, Trace was still freaked out about that part…I could tell. And if he was freaked out, I didn’t know how my mom or Paul would take it. So I kept quiet. I know it was a bad decision…but it was the only one I could make at the time.

Naturally, mom my called everybody that needed to be contacted about what was going on with me. She called Johnny, she called the guys. The guys…I’m really glad she was the one to break the news to them. I mean, I’ve only seen them once since I’ve been home. It was right after the kidnaping. They all came by to see how I was doing. I guess I could have been nicer to them, but at the time, I really wasn’t in the mood to be nice to anybody. I think they expected my mood though…I’d been through hell.

Johnny on the other hand, he didn’t want to discuss the situation over the phone. He flew out to LA the next day, and we all sat down together to discuss what was to be done. I could tell he was worried about me, and a lot of other things too. I’ve already been booked at dozens of arenas across Europe. Canceling now would mean the loss of millions of dollars, and I…I would feel like shit doing that to my fans. I really want to tour, and I told them that. I said that touring would probably take my mind off of a lot of things, and everybody agreed, but they also said that I needed to get help too. So Johnny called around, and found this place. I have to spend thirty days here going through their program, before I can get back to my life again. After that, I’ll have to continue to see a shrink until I start my tour, and then they’ll decide if I need to bring one out on the road with me. It’s not so bad…I know it’s a small price to pay to get some normalcy back into my life again.

The first twenty four hours I spent here were probably the hardest I’ve had to endure so far. When my mother and Trace walked me through those doors, I felt my composure begin to crumble. I was nervous. The building was like another world to me. I cringed at the bars on the windows, and the locks on the doors. I remember that Trace had to stop me halfway to the office, because I was gripping his arm so hard, it was starting to leave a bruise. He asked me what was wrong, and at first I couldn’t really answer him. I didn’t want him to think I was any more of a coward than he knew I was already.

But then…I saw this big guy yanking this girl down the hallway. She was really hysterical…crying and screaming. And then he put her in this room and locked her in. I didn’t want to know any more about this place after that, and I turned and tried to run away…but Trace caught me before I could. My mom tried to console me and told me that my doctors knew what I’d been through, and nobody was going to lock me in a room like that. I couldn’t believe her though. I was convinced that once they left me here, the doctors would turn on me, and torture me just like Shane did. I begged them both to take me home…but they wouldn’t. Trace practically dragged me the rest of the way to the office, and I had to put up with it. I was really upset, and really bitter. Trace knew it too, but I guess he probably expected me to behave that way. Looking back on the whole thing now, I realize how much I was overreacting. These doctors have been nothing but supportive of me, and never once have they tried to lock me inside one of those little rooms. They understand what happened to me…especially Madison. I really like her and I’m really glad that she’s the one who has to listen to me. These other doctors are nice and all, but I can tell that they’re all really uptight and by the book. Madison is young, four years older than me actually…so I guess we can relate a little, even though our lives are totally different.

I hear a tapping at the door, and I know its only Walter coming to get me out of bed. I’ve been lying awake since about four, but he doesn’t need to know that. I glance over to the bed across from mine. Doug is still asleep, and I almost feel compelled to wake him up this morning so Walter won’t have to put up with his shitty attitude. But I can’t make myself put my hand on his shoulder to coax him out of his sleep. I have a real problem making physical contact with the people in here. It’s like they’re all carrying this deadly disease that I’m afraid to catch.

The door opens, and Walter flicks the lights on. I squint a little, until my eyes are fully adjusted to the new light in the room.

"Morning." Walter smiles and tosses me a fresh pair of scrubs, before shaking Doug out of his slumber.

I sit up and yawn a little. "Hey," I whisper. I look down at the fresh scrubs in my hands, hoping that they’ll be significantly different from the algae green color we’re all forced to wear. Of course they’re not though, and I hear myself groan softly. Man, I would give anything to be able to wear a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, but it’s not allowed. Like, I guess they think I could rip the zipper off of the jeans and cut myself or something. Hell, I don’t know…they have a lot of weird rules here. I mean, we’re not allowed to wear shoes that have laces, we’re not allowed to shave unless we have supervision. We’re not allowed to keep pens and notebooks in our rooms, for the fear that we might make weapons out of them.

That’s the part I hate the most too. Writing in my journal is the one thing Madison insists I do everyday, that I actually like to do. But it’s hard for me to express my true emotions out in the open, with the other patients and the orderlies surrounding me. Lately, I’ve been having a lot of problems getting my entries completed, because I’ve started to write about having sex with Shane…and it’s really hard to write about something so deep when so many people are able to look over my shoulder. I guess I should tell Madison about my problem, but I feel weird. I know she would work something out where I would be able to write in my room…or in her office, just because of who I am. But how would that be fair to the other patients? They would all still have to make time to write out in the open, and some of them are a lot more fucked up than I’ll ever be.

"Piss off." I hear Doug spit the words out, and I glance over at him. I can tell already, that this isn’t going to be an easy morning.

"Come on, Doug." Walter grabs him by the arm and forces him to sit up. "Don’t be difficult right before breakfast."

Doug roughly yanks his arm out of Walter’s grasp, and sends him an angry glare. "I want to sleep. So leave me the hell alone."

My breath catches in my throat and my heart pounds against my ribs, as the anger in Doug‘s voice grows. I tend to get really nervous when he gets angry. He’s explosive when he’s mad, like Shane was. I always think that he has a gun under his pillow, and that if Walter or I get him mad enough, he’ll pull it out and start firing it off. I slide myself onto the bed again, and back up against the wall, drawing my knees close to my chest. I just want to go pee…I don’t want to be around for this, but I can’t leave until Walter says it’s time.

"Justin it’s okay," Walter reassures me. "We’ll be out of here in a minute."

"That’s right," Doug grunts. "Protect our little celebrity. Give him what he wants so he keeps funding the crap out of this hellhole."

The fact that I am who I am, hasn’t really bothered anybody in here…besides Doug. All the other patients know who I am of course, but they’ve accepted me into their world. I think most of them have too many other things on their mind to worry about who am I and whether or not I’m getting special treatment. The truth is though, aside from that little tub of Ben and Jerry’s that Madison brought me two days ago…I get treated the same as everybody else. I have to make my bed in the morning, and go to group. I have to take my meds every day, I have to have a roommate, and I don’t get extended free time outside or in the social room. At first it kind of annoyed me, because I wasn’t really used to being treated this way…but now I understand why they’re doing it. Being treated like everybody else is probably the first step in getting me back to my old self again. I can relate to normal people…because I don’t feel different. These doctors are pretty smart.

"I’m not going to tell you again," Walter warns him. "Either you get out of bed, or I’m going to get my buddy out there to help me drag you into the bathroom."

Doug shoves Walter backward roughly, and I know that he’s in deep shit now. Physically assaulting the orderlies is strictly against the rules, and anybody that does it gets put in lock down for the day. I’ve never tried it of course, but I’m not really a violent person unless you get me when I’m most vulnerable. Like…like when I hit Cam…

"That’s it," Walter grunts. He pushes Doug face down on the bed, and pins him down. "Jerry get in here!"

Jerry is really big. Like, bigger than Tiny big. He’s the same guy I saw dragging that hysterical girl down the hallway the first day I was here. The first time I met him, I was terrified…but then I talked to him a little bit and realized that he’s a pretty nice guy. He reminds me of Tiny a lot, except Tiny is a lot more laid back than Jerry is. But I guess when you work in a place like this, it’s hard to be laid back. Maybe after I get out of here, I’ll ask him to come see one of my shows. I’m sure he’ll be a lot more laid back in a situation like that.

Jerry enters the room a moment later. "He giving you trouble?"

"Yeah," Walter nods. "He doesn’t need to be around everybody else today."

"What are you gonna do," Doug says. "Lock me up? Fine…they give you better food in there anyway."

Jerry shakes his head, and motions for Walter to move out of the way. Then he grabs Doug up, and of course he doesn‘t put up a struggle. He’d be a fool to try.

"Let‘s go," Jerry says, and pulls Doug out of the room before he can dish out another snide remark.

"You okay, Justin?"

I look up at Walter, and nod, even though I know I’m not okay. But I’m never okay…so I guess it doesn’t make a difference what I tell him. "I gotta pee."

He laughs. "Come on."

***********

Morning bathroom time has always been a sacred, private time for me. Before I came here, I used to stand in front of the mirror and take a good fifteen to twenty minutes getting my mind together before I even thought about getting in the shower. I guess it was the only time I could be totally alone, without cameras in my face and fans tugging and nagging at me. But now, I can’t even have that privacy. Walter has to stand in here while I do everything. I mean, he turns his back when I pee and stuff, but not before going through his daily check of my body. He makes me strip down to my boxers, and has to check for any cuts I might have made during the night. I know he’s just doing his job, and I know he wouldn‘t try to hurt me…but I’m still afraid. I only let Walter see me this way because I have no other choice.

The first couple of times he did it were really, really hard for me. One morning sticks out in my mind more than the rest. It was the second or third day I was here, and I was still getting used to my new surroundings. I’d been up all night because I kept having these crazy dreams about Shane and the kidnaping. I guess it took more of a toll on me than I realized, because when Walter went to do his morning check up, I freaked. It was another one of those times where I couldn’t see the person before me…I just saw Shane instead. I started screaming at Walter to get away from me, and I remember him trying to calm me down, but I didn‘t want to listen to him. My solution to the problem was crawling into a shower stall and cowering in the corner. Despite Walter’s words of encouragement, I wouldn’t move from my position. I was convinced Shane was out there, waiting to rape me again. They had to get Madison to come, and she had to talk to me for two and a half hours before I could even think about moving from the stall.

"You have a good night?"

He asks me that every morning now, just in case I’ve had another rough night. In that case, he would bring me right to Madison, so I wouldn’t end up having another ‘episode’. Luckily, I slept all right last night. I think it’s these new pills they have me on. They aren’t sleeping pills or anything, but they do give them to me a couple of hours before I go to bed, and they always end up making me tired. I really don’t like that. I don’t like any medicine that takes control of you that way. But what other choice do I have? I have to take whatever they give me, or else I’ll get my privileges taken away. And then I’d be more miserable than I am now. "I slept okay," I say finally.

He nods. "Good. Hey…I hear you got some visitors comin’ today."

I lift my top over my head, and throw it into the hamper next to the sink. "Who…my mom?" My mom comes here a lot. Actually, more than a lot. Last week she came every day, and it was what I expected of her I guess…but I got kinda tired having her around so much. I mean, all she wanted to do was hold my hand and tell me I was okay, and of course I didn’t blame her…but I also knew I needed my space. I told her that in my own way, last Friday. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to shut her out, but really…I wasn’t getting anything accomplished. I couldn’t sort my thoughts out and get them down in my journal with her looming over me. So, I told her that I had a lot of stuff to do, and I really needed to cut back on my visiting time. I think she bought it. Well, either she bought it, or she was just playing along to make me feel better.

"I remember Madison saying something about Trace and a friend of yours named Kerri coming down."

I have to brace myself against the sink, as what he’s just told me starts to make sense in my brain. Trace did this. The phrase repeats itself in my mind at least a dozen times, and I know it’s the truth. I sure as hell didn’t’ tell him to bring Kerri out here. I don’t want to see her…god, I really really don’t want to. "No," I shake my head roughly. "No, tell them not to come."

"Aw come on Justin," Walter smiles and pats my back reassuringly. "It’s good to have your friends around you right now."

"Kerri isn’t my friend," I grunt, and pull my pants off. "Just…just hurry up and check me. I need to make a phone call."

He sighs, but does what I’ve asked of him. He checks my legs, my thighs, and my chest, before telling me that he’s satisfied. I spend the next twenty minutes showering, and shaving…with Walter just a few feet away of course. I try to focus my mind on other things…what’s for breakfast, what I’m going to talk about with Madison today…but I none of that seems to matter right now. Kerri is here, hell, she’s probably in my house right now…and my emotions are this big tangle of frustration, anger, and fear. I don’t know who to be angrier at; Trace for telling her about all this, or Kerri for coming out here to invade my privacy. I mean, she didn’t want any part of what I was going through…that’s why she left right? So, if that’s why she left…what gives her the right to waltz back into my life? Does she feel sorry for me? Does she want everybody to look at her and think she’s this great person for coming out here? Man, what a selfish little bitch she is.

"I’m done," I say quickly, when I finish pulling my crap green scrubs on. "Can I make that call now?"

"I’m not sure about you using the phone when you’re this angry," Walter smiles. "You might end up saying a bunch of shit you don’t mean."

I shrug. "It’s not your life."

"Look," he huffs, as he escorts me out into the hallway. "I know I don’t know everything about what you’ve been through…but anybody that would want to come visit you in here, has to care about you a lot."

I hate that Walter thinks he knows everything about me. God, he reminds me of Trace. Trace thinks he knows everything, and that’s why Kerri is here right now. Damn it, I’m going to fucking kill him for pulling this shit. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," I mutter. "So just stay out of it Walter, and let me make my phone call. You can’t deny me…I haven’t broken the rules."

He laughs a little. "You don’t take no for an answer do you?"

I nod, but I don’t smile. "I never have."

"Fine," he tells me. "You can sit in Madison’s office and use her phone."

I glare at him. "It’s called privacy. I don’t want her listening to my call."

"Take it or leave it Justin," he tells me. "I’m not leaving you in this hallway by yourself. Not in the state of mind you‘re in right now."

I feel like punching him, but I know I won’t. It wouldn’t be worth it, and I know I would freak out if they locked me in one of those rooms. "Fine," I grunt. I miserably plod down the hallway, and I take in a deep breath when we reach Madison’s office. I know it’s early, and I’m sure that right now she’s planning her schedule for the day. I feel bad bothering her, but I really need to call Trace and tell him that he’s a fucking asshole.

"Hey." Walter swings open her office door and then knocks on it. "Can we bother you?"

Madison takes her feet down from the desk, and removes the donut from her mouth. "Oh…hey," she smiles. It always confuses me how anybody can be happy at this hour of the morning. I’ve never been able to be enthusiastic in the morning, even before I was all messed up, unless I had about ten cups of coffee first. "What’s up, Justin?"

Mmm…donuts. We can’t have junk food in here, that’s why I was so fucking excited when she brought me that ice cream the other day.. It has something to do with the meds mixing with the sugar or something dumb like that. Personally, I think they made that rule up to piss us off. But hey, I’m a psycho according to them, so what do I know? "I need to make a call," I grumble, and send Walter an angry look. "And he won’t let me make it unsupervised."

"Because…" Walter butts in. "He’s going to call up somebody and give them hell."

Madison laughs out loud. "Are you up to no good, Justin?"

I roll my eyes. Sometimes I don’t like her. Sometimes I think she views me as this five year old who can’t think for himself. But that’s only sometimes. Most of the time Madison is awesome…I can tell her anything, and she’ll keep it between us. Like, I told her that I had sex with Shane, and she was okay with it. She didn’t’ call me weird or anything like that. The only thing she really wanted me to do was talk about it, and I have been talking about it. I’ve been talking about it so much, that it’s starting not to seem as bad as I used to think it was. "I’m fine," I mutter. I push my way past Walter and into Madison’s office. I plop down into my usual chair by the window, and put my feet up on the sill.

"You want me to stay here Mad?" Walter asks. "Just in case."

"I’m not that whacked," I speak up, in annoyance. "Leave."

"It’s fine Walter. I’ll buzz you if he tries to get rough with me," she cackles.

Walter rolls his eyes. "Good luck, see you later."

The door closes, and I feel myself let out a long breath of relief. I look over at Madison, who is shoving yet another donut into her face. I’m tempted to ask her for one, because they are from Krispy Kreme. I love fucking Krispy Kreme. But I know that if I ask her for one, she’s going to make me talk about something I don’t want to talk about….like Kerri. She’s been bringing her up a lot this week. My eyes widen a little. What if…hey…damn, she’s behind this isn’t she?

"So what’s the matter this morning," she asks me finally. She takes a long sip out of her juice bottle, and then smiles at me again. "Did you sleep okay?"

I fold my arms across my chest stubbornly. "Everything was fine until Walter told me what’s going on this afternoon."

"Oh?" She raises an innocent eyebrow and takes another bite into her donut. "What’s going on?"

"Fuck, Madison," I grunt. "You know what’s going on." I shake my head and turn my focus toward the window. Madison’s office has a really awesome view of the garden. I like to sit here when we have our sessions, and gaze out at all the plant life. It’s so peaceful, and I really wish they allowed us to go into the garden during our free time…but they don’t. We have to be supervised. I guess they’re afraid one of the psycho’s will try to eat the plants or some stupid shit. But hell, that’s not me. Sometimes I really hate that the rules have to apply to everyone.

"Calm down and have a donut." She picks up a napkin and grabs a donut with it before holding it out to me. "They’re from Krispy Kreme," she coos. "I know you can’t resist, Justin."

I don’t want to give in to temptation, because if I do, she’ll expect me to talk about this. I shake my head. "I know what you‘re up to," I tell her. "So screw you."

"Hmm," she shrugs. "Well, I guess I’ll just eat the rest of the box by myself."

My mouth begins to water immediately. I know I can’t resist her offer, and she knows it too. Damn it. I snatch the donut from her desk and start to consume it immediately. Madison looks pleased with herself, and I want to tell her where to get off…but I don’t.

"Trace called me up a few days ago, and asked me what I thought about having Kerri come to visit," she informs me. "And at first I was a little weary, because of the conversations you and I have had about her in the past, but in the end we both agreed that the first step to getting you past this is to have you face your demons. I think you need to see Kerri, to talk to her. It will probably put your mind at ease about a lot of things."

"You both agreed? What about me? Where’s my fucking say?" I yell the words at her, and crumbs fly out of my mouth and across the room. "What the fuck are you doing Madison? This isn‘t just some random friend…this is Kerri. She’s different, and you know why. I can’t just see her like this okay? Not in this place…not in these clothes. Just…no."

She sighs in annoyance, and fold her arms across her chest. "So what? You want me to let you sit here and scream into the phone then?"

"Yes," I mutter.

"Tell me what that will solve, and the phone is all yours." She leans forward and starts to scribble something down in her daily planner. She’s waiting for me to answer, and I know she won’t say anything else until I do.

But I know I don’t really have a logical answer for her. I’m just angry, really angry, and I want to get my aggressions at whoever is responsible. And I know that Trace is partially responsible for this. "I just want him to know how I feel," I say finally. "What’s wrong with that?"

She smiles a little, then tears her gaze away from her planner and focuses on me. "You can let him know how you feel, Justin. There’s nothing wrong with that. But calling him up at this hour, and yelling at him isn’t going to get your point across very well."

I’m starting to calm down. I can tell, because I’m starting to realize that she’s right. Calling Trace up and screaming at him like a lunatic will only cause more drama on both sides of the fence. What I really should do is sit down with him and tell him that I don’t appreciate him going behind my back like this. But...when he comes, Kerri will be with him. And I don’t want to seem like too much of a jerk in front of the girl, even though I’m sure she already has that image of me in her mind. Fuck...I don’t know what to do. "I dunno Madison," I say softly. "All I know is that...I don’t think I can face Kerri right now. I’ve been a little better, you know? I...I’m starting to feel a little more like myself every day that I’m here. If I have to face her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I just...I’m not ready okay?" I look into her eyes, and I can tell that she understands where I’m coming from. I think Trace talked her into letting Kerri come, and I think she figured facing all of that would help me out in the long run. But she didn’t’ ask me about it, and right now...I think she knows she should have. There’s more to me and Kerri than just the kidnaping, a lot more.

She picks up the phone, and hands it to me. "Then call Trace and tell him," she nods. "It’s your life, and I’m not going to tell you what to do. Just know that he did this with your best interest in mind. Think about that before you make any final decisions okay?"

I nod, and then I start to dial. I really don’t know what to expect. I’m sure I’ll tell Trace not to come, and he’ll go on a fifteen minute ramble about why me seeing Kerri right now is a good thing. God I don’t want to deal with it...any of it...

"Hello?"

"Hel..." I’m in such a daze, I don’t realize that the voice on the other end of the line isn’t Trace’s. It’s a girls voice...but it’s not momma’s and it’s not Elisha’s. My mouth hangs open. Jesus... "Kerri?"

************

The caller ID said Dr. M. Powers, and I told Trace that, but he told me to answer anyway. He was too busy sitting on the couch groping Elisha, to realize that it might be Justin calling. I wish I was close enough to kick him right now. I would so do it. "Justin," I say quietly. "Um...Trace is just in the other room..."

"No, no," he interrupts me quietly. "Don’t put him on yet."

His voice is dark, sad...like he doesn’t know what to do. I wonder if he even knew I was coming. Probably not. He probably doesn’t want me to be here either, and  who could blame him after the way I treated him? But no...I’m not going to feel bad about it. He deserved it...all of it.

"When did you get there?" he asks me quickly.

I suck in a breath before replying. "Yesterday."

"You didn’t go in my room did you?"

I shake my head in annoyance. "What kind of a question is that, Justin? I put my life on hold to come out and see you..."

"Did I tell you to do that?," he interrupts me.  His tone is cold and angry, but I can't find my voice in time to talk his anger down. "I don’t recall saying anything about it," he continues. "In fact, I don’t recall calling you once since you went back to school. You listened to fucking Trace, and that’s why you’re here. So if you’re pissed off because you don’t want to be here, yell at Trace, get on the plane..and go back to fucking New York okay?"

I can’t believe he thinks I would come all the way out here, just because Trace told me to. I mean, how long has the Justin known me? I’m not the selfish one...he is. I’m not the one that decided our friendship wasn’t worth anything anymore, that was him too. I just...I don’t even know what to say to him. I’m dumbfounded that he can sit in his doctors office and talk to me this way. This is supposed to be a positive time for him, not a bitch fest. Tears flood my vision, and I feel them start to crawl down my face. Coming out here was a mistake, a big, gigantic mistake. I should hang up, because staying on the phone is going to get me nowhere. I pull the phone away from my ear, not caring if Justin has something else to bitch about, and almost press the off button...but then...

"Who’s on the phone?"

I turn slightly.  Trace is standing in the space separating the living room from the kitchen now. He hangs onto either side of the wall with his hands and leans his body forward, flashing me a playful smile as he does so. "Madison right? She said she wanted say hey to you, that’s why I let you answer."

"It's not Madison." I don’t hang up the phone, but I do put it down on the counter. Then I look Trace in the eye, and his smile immediately fades when he sees the tears in my eyes. "It’s Justin. And I think...he would much rather talk to you right now."

"What’s the matter," he whispers. He steps further into the kitchen and picks up the phone. "What did he say?"

I bite my bottom lip, and look down at the floor. "You didn’t tell him I was coming did you?"

He’s silent.

"Trace," I say, meeting his gaze again. "You didn’t did you?"

He sighs. "No," he admits. "I just...I didn’t think it would be such a bad thing. I mean, it’s been a while and..."

"You don’t know half as much as you think you do," I tell him sternly. "You weren’t there and you can’t possibly understand what Justin and I went throug. Y-you don’t know how hard it was on us okay? We need time apart Trace, a lot more time apart than this. I...I can’t believe you would go behind his back and do this. I mean, who the hell are you anyway? Why do you always think you know what’s best for us?"

He doesn’t answer me. He just shakes his head sadly, and puts the phone to his ear. "Justin...yeah...look I...alright just calm down..."

I don’t want to stick around for the gory details, so I head out of the kitchen and start to cut across Justin’s ridiculously oversized living room, before Elisha’s voice stops me.

"You’re being really ungrateful, Kerri. Trace is doing the best he can and he flew you out here because he thought it would help the situation," she defends. "He wants Justin out of that place, probably more than anybody does. Do you even know how hard it was for him, seeing his best friend bleeding all over the place, and then finding out that he’d been doing it to himself the whole time?"

I knew that Trace found out about Justin’s cutting, but I neglected to get into how the news broke. Up until now, I figured Justin broke down and told him about it...I never thought that Trace had walked in on it all. I don’t even want to imagine the look on his face. Trace isn’t one to show his emotions. Over the course of many years of friendship, I’ve found that Trace doesn’t like to cry or come off as a weak person in front of others. I think a lot of that has to do with Justin, and how Trace been following him around since he was sixteen. I know it’s probably been hard, trying to stand out in a crowd of Justin onlookers...and even harder getting a girl to notice him when Justin is standing right next to him. It’s something I’ve always wanted to discuss with him, but I’ve always feared it would make him angry or something. Trace likes to think that he has a life outside of Justin...that there are things about him that Justin knows nothing about. But the truth is, aside from Elisha, Justin is Trace’s life...he’s his work, and a big part of his family. And seeing him like that...in his lowest moment...must have nearly driven Trace out of his mind.

But despite the fact that I know all this, I still don’t think Elisha has the right to say what she said.  I understand that she loves Trace, and wants him to be happy...but she doesnt' know the half of it.  She doesn't know Justin like I know him, and she doesn't know me at all.  I'm not ungreatful...I'm just...damn it I'm just scared, is that a crime? "Do you know how hard it was...being held at gun point Elisha?," I shoot at her.

Her mouth hangs open a little, and she looks down at the couch cushion she’s seated on. "I...no. I just don’t want Trace to be upset," she says softly. "You can understand that."

"I guess." I shake my head a little, and then finish crossing the room before I retreat up the long wooden staircase. When I reach the balcony, I glance down and can see into the kitchen. I see Trace, but he’s not on the phone anymore. He’s sitting at the table, and his head is buried in his hands. I know he’s crying, and I’m sure he thinks he can’t be seen. But I won’t say anything about it. I’ll let him have his time alone. I’m sure he needs it after everything that’s gone on.

This house in entirely too big for just one person and his friend to be living in. It had ten bedrooms and eighteen bathrooms. Eighteen. Why does Justin need eighteen bathrooms? Even if I was a bajillionaire like Justin, I don’t think I would buy a house that has eighteen bathrooms. There would be no point. I mean, I would constantly have to put toilet paper down on the seats, because I’m sure when I would throw a party, a million different people would be using different bathrooms at different times. I would probably drive my maid crazy. I laugh a little...she’d probably quit her first day. Siobhan already wants to strangle me, and we only have three bathrooms in the apartment.

Aside from the bathroom dilemma though, I have to admit...Justin has a pretty kick ass house. Its designed like an old Mexican hacienda, only its about five times the size of a normal one. It has three floors, if I include the basement, and I can include it because its all redone like a normal level of the house. Trace showed me around down there yesterday, and I was pretty amazed when he said that he and Justin had designed the whole layout of the place themselves. He’s got a movie theater down there, and this huge room with all kinds of video games and a pool table. His office is down there too. He keeps all his awards and platinum records on this big wall behind the desk, along with a big shelf full of trophies and stuff. Not that seeing any of that stuff is new to me. I used to see it all the time when I would go to his other house in Florida. That place is gigantic too, but I didn’t really like it so much there because Britney treated the place like she owned it...even though she didn’t put a dime of her money into it. He still owns that house, but Trace told me Justin doesn’t really go there all that often, unless he’s in Florida visiting his dad or something. I guess it must remind him too much of Britney and their relationship together...

Which in my opinion, was a joke. It was a rebound fling...that lasted longer that it was supposed to.

God, why am I thinking about this now? I don’t want to, or need to. I need to lay down and relax. I need to clear my mind and prepare myself for my visit with Justin. I know that we’re still going to go, despite whatever stupid things Justin said to Trace. No, maybe not today because I’m sure Trace wants to give Justin time to cool down. But tomorrow I’m sure we’re going to go. Trace won’t be weak like that and sit at home...he’ll still get in the car with me and Elisha. We’ll still go to Psycho Country or whatever the place is called, and I’ll have to sit there and try not to let the dirty looks Justin will be shooting my way, bother me. No...I wont ever let him get to me again. I’ve had enough.

I push my way into the room I think is mine, but I quickly realize I’m in the wrong room when I notice the size of the place. It’s the master bedroom, and practically the size of the kitchen and the living room put together. I step further inside, even though I know I shouldn’t’ be prying, and then I smell it...him. I close my eyes, and relish the scent, as a million forgotten smiles and spouts of laughter rush through my mind and rip through my ear drums.

‘I look so sexy in this hat.’

I turn towards him, after slipping a pair of oversized green sunglasses on, and nearly spit my mouthful of soda all over him. ‘What’s with the feather?’ I manage, after swallowing the liquid in my mouth. I take the ridiculous glasses off and put them back on the rack. Then I try a more suitable pair, before focusing on Justin again.

I shake my head and will the memory away. But it’s really hard to rid myself of it completely, when I’m standing in his private sanctuary and when his scent in enveloping me like it is. I sit down on his bed, and rub my hands on my thighs. I shouldn’t be in here. He even warned me about being in here a few minutes ago. But if I know that, then why can’t I make myself leave? Maybe its because I’m tired...yeah. I’m tired and his bed is really comfortable.

It can’t possibly be because I never truly let him go.  I'm not that weak...am I?