The music stops suddenly, and it forces me to look at him again. I frown. This is the third time he’s stopped in ten minutes. I wish he wouldn’t stop. I wish he would keep going, so this nightmare would finally end. He’s starting to take over me, my thoughts. I want to run and hide from him, but there isn’t anywhere to go.

“Can…can you just…” he sighs at me and snaps his fingers at his assistant. “Maureen! Maureen I need you!”

Maureen rushes over to him, a spare camera in one hand and a clipboard in the other. They start speaking in hurried whispers, as if this photo shoot is the most important thing they’ve ever done together. It’s really starting to piss me off. I’ve been here for three hours already, and he’s only gotten one roll finished. He keeps telling me I’m not focusing…that I need to work with him…

I don’t know what the fuck he wants me to do. I’m already sitting like he’s told me to, with my shirt hanging off of my shoulders, and my fly partially unzipped. He’s lucky he got me to do that. I’m so fucking uncomfortable, and his staff…they’re all standing in the background watching me…studying me with their eyes. I wonder…can they see it? Can they tell what I am? Do they know my secret?

“Here.”

I look up and take the bottle of water from him. I swear to god, if he wasn’t here today I don’t know what I’d do. Trace is the only one that can keep my head level right now. Without him, I’ll fall apart. But as much as I appreciate him being here, I don’t thank him. I just unscrew the bottle cap, and guzzle the water down eagerly.

“You can stop, ya know,” he tells me. “If you’re tired or whatever, we can always come back tomorrow Justin.”

I shake my head roughly. I don’t want to put this off. If I do, I’m going to end up spending more time here than I want to…half naked. It’s too hard for me, and I can’t do it. “No,” I grunt. “I’ll do this today and get it done.” I get up from the little stool and stretch out my cramped muscles. It feels good. I don’t take things like this for granted anymore. Being able to move freely…being able to run and dance and stretch, it’s not something to be taken for granted. I’ve come to learn that physical freedom is a privilege, and when you lose it…you feel small, weak…and hopeless.

I learned that the hard way.

“You wanna go to Chi today?,” Trace asks me, as he pops another mini disc into his camcorder. “Sally’s been asking when you’ll be by. She wants to show you the new equipment that came in.”

I shrug. I can’t think about any of that right now. I’m too tired…I’ve been through too much this morning. Having to expose my body to strangers used to be easy for me, once upon a time. Now though, it’s like pulling teeth. I hate how they all look at me. I hate how they point and whisper to each other. What the hell are they saying? Can they see something on me…inside of me? Can they see past this front I put on for everybody? Can they tell that…that I did that unspeakable thing? I don’t have an answer, and being uncertain is worse than knowing the truth. “I dunno,” I mumble. “Maybe.”

Trace sighs a little, and begins to toy with his camcorder. He doesn’t pester me about my emotional state. He knows I’m having a bad day, and that the best thing he can do right now is back off. He has no idea how much he helps me when he backs off for a little while.

A few days after I got home, the FBI turned up my missing ransom money. It was hidden in a closet on the upper level of that house. I wasn’t happy to get it back. Those bastards touched that money…Shane touched it. It was dirty money, and I knew I would never be able to spend it. I told my mom that too, but she said I was being ridiculous. She told me it was my hard earned money, and that I should put it right back into the bank where it belonged. But I didn’t. I put half of it into my charity, and the other half…I gave to the Tripton’s. Giving the Tripton’s that much money was probably too generous of me, and I got a big lecture from both my mother and my accountant about why I shouldn’t have done it. But their words didn’t affect me much. If the Tripton’s had turned us away from their doorstep that morning, I don’t want to think about what might have happened to Kerri and I. We could have been wandering around for days looking for help…if we didn’t tear each other apart before then.

I spoke to Craig a few days ago. Apparently he cashed the check the other day, but he told me he still didn’t feel right about profiting off of my misfortune. I told him that I didn’t want him to feel that way, that no amount of money could repay him for what he did…and that I wanted him and his family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. I mean, it’s not like the guy can’t use the money. He’s got four kids, that he’s going to have to put through college eventually. And Shelly, she’s almost at that age now. I would never take the money back. I think he knew that, and I guess that’s why he tried to make plans with me to go fishing, instead of trying to pressure me further about the situation. I assured him that as soon as my schedule got a little less hectic Trace and I would take him up on his offer, and I managed to end the conversation on a light note.

The news about the kidnapping spread like wildfire. For those first two weeks, I couldn’t pick up a newspaper or turn on the television without seeing or hearing something about the case. Just as I thought, my phone, Trace’s phone, and my mother’s phone were all ringing off the hook. Everybody wanted and interview, and I had to oblige to the more prominent newspaper reporters and news broadcasters. But I told them I would only grant the interviews if they agreed to leave Kerri out of them. They agreed with me, but I wasn’t really surprised. The public would rather hear my side of the story anyway…everybody knows that.

In all, I probably did about six interviews…each one harder than the last. Each reporter seemed to get bolder as I went along. They wanted to know all of the gory details…how, why, when, and how. I had to describe it…how we were forced into the back of my car…how I got the crap kicked out of me. One guy even told me that Shane was an alleged rapist, which wasn’t news to me. The police told me a lot about Shane after I’d been checked out of the hospital, and most of it was information that I didn’t want to know. But I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Shane was clearly messed up, and he did what he did without a second thought for my well being. He didn’t care that I might live through it…that I might have to remember it all for the rest of my life.

I didn’t falter though. After all this time…nobody knows about what we did together in that room. I guess I’m a little proud of myself for being able to withstand this intense emotional burden. But at the same time, it hurts like hell holding it all in. Sometimes the pain gets so intense, I end up throwing up, or throwing wild tantrums. I’ve scared Cameron a few times. She’s tried to get me open up, and I haven’t wanted to. Once I threw a bottle of beer across the room, because I was so angry that she wouldn‘t leave me alone. I didn’t throw it at her of course, but it scared her all the same. It scared me too.

We worked through it though.

Once my ribs were mostly healed, my mom suggested that I spend some time with my father and the boys down in Florida, so I could get a change of scenery. I thought it was a great idea. I still felt guilty that I hadn’t gotten to spend the amount of time with my brothers that I wanted to, and I knew a trip out to see them would set things right again. What happened to Kerri and I was hard on Jonathan, and he let me know that when I called him to tell him I was coming. He’s old enough to comprehend what a kidnapping is, and after I returned home safe, my father and Lisa sat him down and explained everything to him. Part of me wishes they hadn’t, only because I know how scary the whole thing was for me. From a kids perspective, especially a sensitive kid like Jonathan‘s, what happened to me must seem a million times worse than it was…if that’s possible.

Steven is still a little young to understand everything that happened. I’m not sure what the conversation involved, but I do know that my father had a little talk with him before I came, and tried to explain that ‘Justin went through a scary time’. I think he might have understood a little bit. He asked me about it one day while we were watching his cartoons together. He wanted to know if the boogie man came out of the closet and took me away. It scared me a little bit, because in a childlike way…that’s exactly what happened to Kerri and I. I told Steven yes, and his eyes got really wide. ‘But you said the boogie man was fake’, was his response and I wanted to die. I knew my answer would put a million scary thoughts in his mind, that would cause him to have horrible nightmares in the middle of the night. I felt like an asshole, because Lisa and daddy had been working really hard to rid him of his fear of the dark. I tried to take back what I said to him of course, but it was too late. He was convinced there was really a boogieman, and that if it got to me, it would get to him. I had to sit down and tell daddy and Lisa what happened. They reassured me that it was okay, but in my heart, I knew they were upset about it. They’re the ones who have to deal with him if he wakes up at three am, screaming.

I’m always fucking somebody’s life up.

Cam, Trace, and Elisha came down to Florida with me too. But the time I spent with Trace was limited. He was out with Elisha a lot, getting some much needed quality time in. The first few weeks after the kidnapping, they didn’t get to spend any time together, because Trace was in Tennessee with me and Elisha was back in LA filming her show. I felt really, really bad about keeping them apart for so long. I know Elisha is the girl Trace has been waiting for his entire life. She’s the only one of his girlfriends who hasn’t used to him to get closer to me, and when I see them together, I know she’s as in love with him as he is with her. He’s going to put a ring on her finger soon, I’m sure of it. Man, I can’t wait. Trace deserves it. He deserves to be happy, and so does Elisha.

Trace’s absence gave Cameron and I the chance to reconnect. More and more I would find my self laying on the couch, or outside on the hammock with her. She would let me lay my head in her lap, and she would run her fingers through my hair. I would talk to her a little, and try to tell her the things that were on my mind. I tried to talk about Shane, but I found that my throat would close up every time I tried to get the words out. It was like, my mind wouldn’t allow me to talk about it. Like, I wasn’t allowed to or something. I managed to talk about the kidnapping a little, but it wasn’t anything major. Trace is the only one I’ve been able to really talk about the kidnapping with, but I guess that’s because Kerri told me I should…

I can’t think about Kerri right now.

I have to give it to Cameron though, she really tries. She really wants our relationship to survive through all of this. Out of everybody I‘ve talked to, she’s the only one that hasn’t pressured me with a million questions. She sits with me, holds my hand, and listens. She never mentions what happened to Kerri and I, unless I bring it up. Trace and momma and daddy, they always bring it up. I know they’re only trying to do what’s best for me. I know I need to open up more and talk about it…but I just can’t do it right now. I think Cameron has known that from the beginning, and she respects that too. I don’t think she knows how much that means to me. I’d tell her, but I’ve found that since everything happened, it’s been hard for me to express my feelings that way. I used to be a very emotional, spiritual person…but I know I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t pray as often, I don’t ask the Lord for his guidance anymore. I have no motivation for that anymore. I know we lived…I know we got the hell out of there, but the nightmare didn’t end there, and it still hasn’t…at least not for me anyway. I can’t pray to a God that let something so disgusting and horrible happen to me. So, I’ve turned my back on Him for now Instead, I rely on myself. Sometimes it works, and I’m able to calm myself down. But then there are those times….those times where I can’t get the pain to stop, and I have to resort to something else. Something so horrible, it makes me sick to my stomach to know that I do it to myself.

I was raised to believe that confiding in your family and friends is the best way to resolve your problems, and I used to trust in that belief with my whole heart . But then I was raped, and everything I‘d ever trusted and believed in didn‘t matter anymore. I live my life one day at a time now. I tremble, I cry, I look over my shoulder when I walk down the street…and I trust no one. Trace…Trace is the only one who knows the truth about me. He doesn’t know that I was raped, but he knows…he knows I’m not okay. I guess I can live with that. He’s not just my friend, he’s my brother, and he’s always there for me. He knows his place too. He doesn’t try to force things out of me, unless he’s really pissed off or really worried. But even then, I put him in his place, and he backs off. I think he knows he has to, or else…I must just push him away too.

Cutting myself isn’t something I’m proud of. Half the time, I don’t realize how badly I’ve injured myself until I wake up the next day and get a really good look at my cuts. I’m so afraid that one of these days I’m going to blank out and slice my wrists open or something. Shane will be there, egging me on…and I’ll just…I’ll just lose it. God, I don’t want to die. I really don’t. I know I need help. I know I should go talk to a psychologist, or at least tell momma what’s going on with me. But I can’t find the strength within myself to tell her. I’m afraid of what she’ll say to me, or what she’ll think of me. Self injury is an extremely difficult situation…I read about it online the other day. The article said that everyone reacts differently…family, friends, and girlfriends. Sometimes they can accept it, and get you the help you need. And other times, they’ll be too horrified to know what to do. I’m not risking that. The people in my life have been through enough. Besides, I’m not a stupid guy. I’m sure if I’m careful, and pay attention to what I’m doing, I won’t be able to injure myself that badly.

“Okay people!” The photographer claps his hands a few times, and the music starts up again. I glance over at Trace, and sigh heavily. He smiles a little, and opens his mouth to say something…but then his phone starts to ring, and he is distracted by the call.

“Justin,” the photographer says to me. “Just, go back on that block again. I need you to look…sexy. Wait! Not sexy…don’t think sexy. Sexy is too timid for you.” He covers his mouth with his hand, and ponders something for a moment. “Think…hungry. You’re hungry…thirsty for sex. Show me you want it.”

I cringe. Doesn’t he know? Wait…no, he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. I steal another glance at Trace, but his back is turned to me, and his phone is pressed to his ear. I’m sure he’s talking to Elisha. She’s the only one that can get him to tune me out completely. I bite down on my lip, and make my way back over to the little stool I was sitting on before. The make up lady rushes over to me and opens my shirt again, but I pull away from her and shoot her a dirty look. I don’t want her touching me. I don’t even…I don’t even let Cameron touch me that way, unless I’m having a really good day.

“Take your shirt off, Justin,” the photographer says to me, his smile sickly sweet.

I swallow hard. I don’t want to….

I cover my ears with my hands and close my eyes. I see Shane standing there, half naked, with that disgusting smile spread across his face. Go away…Go away Shane. And he does. I’m taken back home…back to Millington, and I’m on the porch swing. I see Kerri, and she’s so perfect, so beautiful. I want her to wrap her arms around me, and tell me that I’m okay. I want to tell her…I want to tell her so much. Kerri?

She smiles a little bit. Her cheeks are that pale shade of rose. They always used to turn that color after we would kiss, and then she would smile. Perfection wasn’t the word to describe her. I miss you. I hear her say.

I reach out for her, but she doesn’t come any closer to me, and I find that I can’t move any closer to her. My feet seem glued to the ground, and I’m forced to remain seated on the porch swing. I didn’t mean to push you away.

I open my mouth to tell her. I know I’ll feel better once this is all off my chest. I know she won’t tell. Kerri, I was…

Don’t tell her. Shane appears behind her, his gun pointed directly at her. Kerri doesn’t seem to notice that he’s there though, and I’m thankful. She doesn’t deserve to know. If you tell her, I’m going to have to kill her, and I really don’t want to have to do that to you right now…

Yeah, Ker. I say to her. I’m here.

“Justin!”

I snap back into reality. Trace is kneeling before me, his hands on my shoulders. He’s shaking me a little. “Justin, snap out of it.”

My eyes widen. What the hell just happened? “Trace?”

He seems relieved that I’ve answered him. “Come on,” he says. He pulls my shirt back on, and buttons it up. “You’re done for the day.” He helps me to my feet, the worried expression on his face not going unnoticed by me.

I can’t leave though. I mean, this is work. We’ve been putting this shoot off for weeks now, and I know its time to get it done. “Trace, no…just…we have to finish this.” I pull away from him, and sit back down on the stool.

“No,” he grunts. “Fuck the shoot Justin…you don’t need it. You have enough stuff going on right now.

You’re…you’re messed up, and I’m not going to let them do this to you anymore okay? No more half naked shoots.”

My brow furrows. What the hell does he mean by that? “What?”

“We’re done,” he tells the photographer. “You have enough pictures of him.”

“I can hardly say that one roll is enough,” the photographer snorts. “We have a cover to do here.”

“It’s only one picture.” Trace grips me by the arm and pulls me away from the stool. “You’ll find one.”

I’m so confused, that I start to let him lead me away. Then I realize how foolish I must look to everybody, being pulled away from this shoot like I’m some kind of retard that can’t think for himself. I’m not about to walk out of here, and let them all form the opinion that I’m a little pussy. I need them to think I’m strong, cool…confident. I roughly yank myself away from Trace. “Stop it,” I snap.

He sucks in a long breath. His eyes almost look glazed over, and I don’t know if it’s because his allergies are acting up, or if it’s because he’s upset. Trace doesn’t cry though, at least not in front of me… so I’m figuring it must be his allergies. “I’m not going to stand around and watch you get torn apart again,” he whispers. “You’ve been doing better, up until now.”

I really haven’t been okay though. I’m just really good at hiding my emotions from everybody. After I first returned home it was hard for me to keep my feelings locked away, but over time, I learned how to do it well. And now, it’s like a second nature to me. I can be hysterical one moment, and then click over to this fake happy go lucky guy a moment later. I guess it‘s another talent of mine…if you could even call it a talent. I pat Trace on the shoulder, and flash him a reassuring smile. “Trace, I’m fine.” I pull off my shirt, and somehow manage not to flinch, knowing that my body has now been exposed to the photographer and his staff.

Trace shakes his head. “You weren’t fine a minute ago,” he informs me. “You were blanking out again, Justin. Damn, I know you’re not okay. I know that…I know this kind of stuff makes you uncomfortable.”

I swallow hard, but don’t let my smile fade. I hate to admit it to myself, but I know he’s starting to get an idea of what Shane and I did. Trace is with me almost everyday, and he can tell what makes me uncomfortable. He knows this photo shoot has been making me uncomfortable from the start. No fake smile of mine is going to make him reconsider his thoughts. Maybe it’s time I tell him about Shane…about what we did. I think I might be able to trust him…

Maybe?

“You need help,” he tells me. “I’m about to call up your mom, and have her come out here. I think it’s time you sat down with us and told us the truth. I know something happened to you in that place. And I know you feel like you can’t tell us about it,” he nods. “But you need to, Justin. You need to tell us.”

This isn’t fair. Now he’s threatening me with my mother? He’s supposed to understand. He’s supposed to back off. He’s not supposed to stand here and expect me to admit that I had sex with Shane. I mean, what the fuck? I can’t just talk about it. I…I can’t. I can’t and I won’t. I reach into my pocket, and feel the tension leave me when my hand closes around the blade. I need to calm down…and there’s only one thing that’s going to calm me down right now. I glare at him, and his bold expression crumbles. “I need to use the bathroom.” I push past him and start for the door a few feet away.

“I don’t understand you,” I hear him say. “You used to be able to tell me everything.”

I stop in my tracks and turn back toward him. His expression is full of pain. It’s almost like he feels I’ve betrayed him. But he can’t understand, because he doesn’t know. And I can’t tell him. “Let it go,” I whisper.

He nods. “I guess that’s the only thing I can do.” He doesn’t say anything else to me. Instead, he walks over to the photographer and starts talking to him. The photographer doesn’t look happy, and I’m assuming Trace is either rescheduling the rest of the shoot, or he’s simply canceling it. But I don’t even care anymore. I reach the bathroom door, and push it open. The bathroom is a good size, and I’m glad because its’ really hard to do…what I do…in a small space.

I pull my blade out and begin to pull my pants down. I only cut myself on my thighs, because it’s the one place on my body that is almost always hidden from the cameras. I used to sleep in my boxers, but ever since I started this shit, I always wear sweatpants. Cameron always asks me why, because usually, she doesn’t sleep in anything but a little nightgown. I tell her that I get cold at night, but I don’t think she believes me. It’s hurting us too…because sometimes she’ll try to come onto me and take my pants off, but I won’t let her. She gets really confused when I won’t let her touch me. Hell, she’s really confused as to why I haven’t wanted to have sex with her at all since everything happened. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that she’s going to get tired of waiting around for me, and leave. I really don’t want her to leave. She makes me feel safe at night. When I have a bad dream, even if I won’t tell her what its’ about…she always seems to know exactly what to say and do to make it all okay. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I’m sitting on the floor now, surveying the skin on my legs. A lot of my cuts have cleared up. It’s been nearly a week since I’ve done this. But that’s okay. It means that there is plenty of space…yes, plenty…

The blood feels so good against my skin. I close my eyes, and let the pain numb my fears away. Nothing can hurt me now…

Not even Shane.

FUN IN THE SUN?