I feel somebody’s eyes boring into the back of my head, and immediately the paranoia sets in. I quickly snap my journal closed and hug it to my chest. I glance over my shoulder cautiously, and see Doug standing a few feet behind me. He’s got a sick sort of smile on his face, like he’s amused by me. I shudder. He’s got those eyes...like Shane had.

"Hey there, Justin Timberlake." He shuffles over to me, and sits down in the seat adjacent to mine.

I slide myself back a little bit. Doug wreaks of cologne, and every time I’m near him I get nauseated. "What do you want?" I grumble. I clutch my journal even tighter to my chest, when I see his gaze land on it.

"I finished my Jell-O," he smiles. "So I’m going to take yours." He reaches out and grabs the Jell-O off of my tray before I can stop him.

I don’t move. I just stare at him, like some pathetic little kid. We only get Jell-O once a week, and even then, it’s the sugar free kind. But damn it, the shit is the closest thing we have to junk food in this place. Doug knows that too. I wish he would get off my case already. I don’t know what it is with him. I mean, I know he’s my roommate but I’m sure that’s not the reason why he always singles me out. I think it’s who I am...he jealous or something. I really don’t know why, I don’t get any special attention. "Give it to me, Doug" I say to him. "Come on." I allow one of my hands to leave my journal, and reach out to grab my dessert back from him.

He jumps out of his seat, and backs away from me. "What are you gonna do about it?," he snickers. He pulls a spoon out of his pocket, and digs in.

I feel like crying, and it’s stupid. It’s fucking Jell-O, what the hell is the big deal? Maybe it’s not the Jell-O that’s making me upset though. Maybe it’s just the fact that I’m being taken advantage of...like a nerd getting picked on by the bully in school. I could fight back, I know I could lash out and punch Doug in the face right now...but I won’t. I have a real problem touching people in here, especially guys. I never want to find out if I’m really gay, and getting that close to another man...it’s risky. I know I was close to Trace a lot before I came here, but I think Trace was a lot different. I know I could never be attracted to Trace even if I was gay, just because he and I have known each other for so long, and we’re more like brothers than friends. Well...at least we were up until yesterday.

Madison told me I totally overreacted on the phone with him, and after a couple of hours of hearing her explain why I shouldn’t have done what I did, part of me agreed with her. I think hearing Kerri’s voice was what initially set me off. Just knowing that she was in my house...touching my things, it made me sick to my stomach. She was there with me, she saw them, she...I know she knows something about what happened with Shane. Why the hell did she have come all the way out here and remind me of it all? She’s supposed to be smarter than that. She’s supposed to know that I don’t want to see her. She fucking...she left me, and that was the end of it. She was supposed to just forget about it all...the kidnaping, and about me.

By the time Trace got on the phone, I was so pissed, I just wanted to rip him apart...and I did. I screamed at him. I told him he was a fucking asshole, and that I didn’t know if I could consider him a friend anymore. Then Madison took the phone away, but I didn’t even care. I was so angry...so fucking angry. I’m still angry too, but I know I’ve calmed down enough to face Trace when he comes. As for Kerri...well, I have no clue what I’m going to do when she comes in here.

I look back at Doug, as he polishes off the last of my Jell-O. I’m still mad, but I’m not going to say anything to him, I’m not going to start a fight. I get up from my chair, and tuck my journal under my arm. I need to find a place where I can sit and write in peace, so I guess I’ll go to the social room...yeah. I can usually get some peace and quiet there. I’m almost to the door, but then Doug jumps in front of me, blocking my path. I gasp. I wasn’t expecting that.

"Where you goin?" he asks me, with an inquisitive smirk.

"Away," I mutter. I try to push past him, but he pushes me backward. I bite my lip. "Just leave me alone Doug," I moan.

"I hear you like to swing it both ways," he whispers in my ear. "Is that true?"

My eyes widen, and a deep rage begins to boil inside of me. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," I whisper. "Just let me through."

He grabs me by the scruff of my shirt, and pulls me close to him. "I’ve been watching you," he whispers. "I’ve been watching the way you walk, and...and they way you sit in the social room and look out the window for hours. And at night...I watch you while you sleep...you’re beautiful when you sleep you know."

"Stop it!" I scream the words at him, and break free of his grasp. "You...you leave me alone," I point my finger at him, and try to fight back the tears that are begging to make themselves known. "Just leave me alone."

"What’s going on?"

I hear Jerry’s voice, and I quickly whirl around.

"I asked you two a question." He storms toward us angrily, and I swallow back the fear rising in my throat. He’s so damn big. God, if he ever grabbed me, I would probably lose it. Please don’t’ touch me...

"What’s going on?" he repeats, once he gets close enough.

"Nothin," Doug smiles. "I was just giving Justin here a little insight."

Jerry shoots me a knowing glance, and then steps closer to Doug. "You got one strike left in my book, Doug. The next time I have to throw you in the hole, I’m going to leave you in there for a week."

Doug rolls his eyes. "You think I care about the hole Jer?"

He smiles a little. "Maybe not now, but you will once I’m through with you."

I back away a little bit. I realize that this isn’t my fight anymore, and if I want to, I can probably be on my way. I guess I’m just scared to make any sudden movements. I don’t want Doug to touch me...or even look at me, like he says he’s been looking at me. I start to sneak away, and I manage to make my way out into the hallway. I breathe a sigh of relief. Madison...I’ll talk to Madison later about the Doug thing. Maybe she can get them to change my room or something. I hope so, because after what just happened, I know I’m not going to be able to sleep a wink. I’ll think that he’s staring at me, studying me...wanting me. Oh god...this can’t happen to me again. It just can’t.

Just forget about it...

Right. I rush down the hallway, alarming several of the orderlies on my way. I should probably watch myself in front of them, because if they think something is wrong, they are more than likely to report it. But that’s not really a major concern of mine right now. All I want to do is go sit by the window and write down my thoughts. It will help. I can talk about Doug and stuff...and nobody will have to listen to me, and then I won’t have to worry about crying and shit. I enter the room, and scan it quickly for anybody that might be a threat to me. I don’t see anybody unusual though...just the normal crowd. I take my usual seat by the window, and with a last glance over my shoulder, I’m finally able to open up my journal again.

"Hey."

I don’t have to look to know who it is. I think I would know Trace’s voice anywhere, even though right now it sounds like he’s half dead. I sigh, and regretfully close my journal again. Then I look around the back of the big wicker chair I’ve been sitting in, and I see him. He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets...looking like his entire world is crashing down around him. I can’t help but feel bad. I know I’m the cause of it. "Hi," I say after a moment.

He motions to the chair next to mine. "Should I sit?" His voice cracks a little, and I rub a hand over my face. It’s so weird. Trace has never been this broken down in front of me. The day he came to the Tripton’s, he didn’t even act like anything was wrong. Man, I guess I must have said some fucked up things to him yesterday.

"Yeah, Trace," I nod, and focus my gaze back at the window.

I hear him sink down into the wicker chair, and for awhile neither of us say anything. That’s the kind of friends we are. We both know what’s going on, we both know how the other one feels, and so...words aren’t really necessary. Part of me is tempted to say something, just to get his mind going, but I chicken out of course.

"So..." Trace sits up in the chair, and looks at me. "So...I’m sorry okay? I just thought bringing Kerri out here might make you feel better. Hell Justin, I don’t know. You had to come here, and it was so weird, and I just didn’t think and..."

"Trace," I interrupt his frantic rambling before he drives us both crazy. "Look, I was just angry yesterday. Whatever I said to you, it doesn’t matter now okay? You’re my best friend, and now you’re here for a visit. Let’s just try to enjoy our time okay?" I tuck my journal underneath me, before sinking lower into the chair and closing my eyes. For the first time today, I’m finally at peace... and with Trace here too. Maybe things aren’t so bad....

"Um, Justin."

I don’t open my eyes. "Yeah?"

"Kerri is in Madison’s office."

Why me?

********

We arrived here a little over an hour ago. Originally, Elisha was supposed to come with us, but her agent called her up at the last minute and she had to go meet with him. Trace seemed a little pissed that she rushed out like she did. Normally, I’m sure he would have understood...but when it comes down to Justin, nothing seems to be more important in his book. Hell, that’s why I’m here...because he acted like my schooling came second to Justin’s problems, and I felt bad. Why did I feel bad? Justin told me off on the phone yesterday. I should have hightailed it back to New York. I wish I had. But the fact that I would have been walking out on Trace plagued my conscience so badly, that I felt I couldn’t leave. I know that sticking by your friends is what you’re supposed to do, but god, I know that Justin is going to give me hell when I see him. I don’t want to deal with it, I don’t think I can handle any more fights between us. But I guess...I’m doing it for Trace. I should...he was there for me when I needed him to be.

Oh and lucky me! For all that I’ve sacrificed, I get a bonus...

A fucking psychiatric evaluation.

According to Trace, Madison Powers is the best thing that’s happened to Justin since he was admitted to this place. When I first stepped into her office and set eyes on her, I was a little surprised. She wasn’t at all what I’d expected. I was expecting to see some middle aged, motherly type seated behind the desk. I guess I figured Justin wouldn’t have a problem talking to somebody who babied him, because his mother babies him all the time. But Madison isn’t anywhere near middle aged, and actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was still in her twenties. She’s really pretty and smart looking, like I wish I could be. She’s average height, a dirty blond with light blond highlights and chocolate brown eyes that are accented by a thin pair of reading glasses. She has a really nice figure too. Not as nice as Cameron Diaz’s or anything, but it’s still nicer than mine. But the one thing I’m really envious of, is that she can look so damn sophisticated when she comes to work, but then she could probably go change and start dancing in a club like a carefree party girl in a moments notice. I can’t just kick back like that. When my mind is set on school, it’s set on school until I go to bed that night. I can’t switch my attention to something else very easily, at least not anymore.

I used to be able to. I used to be able to go to school all day, and then go out to the clubs with Siobhan at night. But now, school just wears me out. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I don’t really sleep, and when I do, it’s only because I’m drunk. Hell, I’m surprised I’ve been managing to get through my classes like this. I guess I must be stronger than I thought, but then again I can’t promise that my body isn’t going to give out. That scares me. This is my senior year, and I can’t fuck up now. I need to get a job, and I need to make something out of my college experience. My parents...they’d never forgive me if I let it all go to waste.

"Justin talks about you a lot." Dr. Powers leans back in her chair, and props her feet up on the desk.

I’m literally disgusted by her action. Doesn’t she know how many germs can be transferred from her shoes onto her desk? I mean, she probably eats her lunch there. She could get Cholera and her stomach will shrivel up and she’ll die. "Do you always put your feet up there?" I ask her, completely ignoring her original comment.

She glances at her feet, and cracks a small smile. "Most of the time. Why Kerri, does it bother you?"

I shift a little in my chair. "No," I say quickly. "I was just asking."

She doesn’t believe me I guess, because a moment later she returns her feet to the floor. "I like the environment in my office to be laid back. It helps my patients to relax, and let their feelings out. I don’t care where they sit or what they put their feet on, so long as they’re talking about what they need to talk about."

She’s probably expecting me to ask her about Justin...about what he’s been talking about, but I’m not about to get into the subject. It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to face him in a few minutes. I realized early this morning that I wasn’t prepared...I wanted another day to collect my thoughts, but I knew I couldn’t tell Trace that. He wanted to come today, so he could sort out his own problems with Justin. It wasn’t my place to interfere. Just like it’s not Dr. Powers’ place to keep me in here, while Trace is out there talking to Justin. I should be out there with him too...at least then I would have Trace to back me up if Justin started saying stupid shit to me. "Are we done here," I hear myself say, a little too gruffly.

"I think Trace and Justin probably need a few minutes," Dr. Powers replies. "And I was hoping you would be willing to give me a few minutes of your time as well. Like I said, Justin talks about you a lot, and I think it would do him some good if I got to know you a little more."

What is this lady, Justin’s fucking informant? I don’t need to sit here and talk to her about my feelings, or about my history with Justin. It’s not her concern. Whatever went on between me and him is a private matter, and I’m not about to sit here and tell her shit that isn’t any of her business. "I’ve given you a few minutes," I mutter, and get up from the chair I’ve been sitting in. "And I’m not discussing anything with you." Still fuming with anger, I turn towards the door, and begin to make my way out of her office.

"Do you have a psychiatrist Kerri?"

I pause, and turn to face her again. "How is that your business Doctor Powers?"

"Please, call me Madison." She smiles again. I hate that. Justin...Justin always used to smile at me like that, even when he knew I was annoyed with him. Only...when he did it, I would always forgive him in the end.

"And I’m not trying to force you to talk to me Kerri," she continues. "It just seems to me that you’re trying to keep all of your pain and aggression locked inside of you," she informs me. "It’s not a good way to solve your problems. If you continue down that road, you’re only going to hurt yourself more. Look at Justin....he did it, and now he’s in here."

I shake my head. "You don’t know anything about Justin. You...you don’t’ know why he had to hide what happened to him from the world. He...he can’t just talk about things with people. He’s not like you or me. He’s different okay?"

"I don’t think he’s as different from the rest of the world, as you seem to think," she nods.

She’s making me angrier. She’s acting like she knows him better than I do. Well...she fucking doesn’t. Did she grow up with him? Is she the one that stood by while he rose to superstardom, and prayed to god that he didn’t leave her behind? Is she the one that was there for him at four in the morning, when he felt like the world was smothering him, and he had nobody else to call? Did she love him, like I loved him? Did she...did she sit with him in that dirty house, while he cried and cried and cried.... No. She’s just his shrink. She’s only known him for a little more than a week...

"Come sit," she says. "I know you need to talk to somebody, and I know Trace is a good friend to you, but I can imagine that his mind is in other places right now. Tell me if I’m wrong."

I shake my head, and try to tell her that she’s wrong. But damn it, I know she’s right. Is she always able to see through people like this? "I can’t talk about this stuff with you," I tell her. "You’re not my doctor, and I’m not going to be here much longer as it is. If I...if I told you, it would just get to me more. Like, you would know, but it wouldn’t be helping anything."

"Getting things off your chest always helps," she says. "Sometimes it doesn’t matter who you talk to, it only matters that you’re getting your aggressions out of your system."

I sigh, and turn towards the door again. She’s absolutely right. Getting things out of your system does help. But I just don’t have the energy to get into all right now. I have to face Justin, and I can’t be a mess for him, so I’m just going to go and get it over with. "Thanks, but I just can’t." I turn the knob and open the door. Part of me waits for her to tell me to reconsider, but she doesn’t say anything. It causes me to look over my shoulder, but she’s not even paying attention to me anymore. She’s writing something down on her agenda.

She doesn’t really care.

I walk out of her office and roughly yank the door closed behind me. The hallway is a world away from the comfort of Madison’s office. It’s walls are a dull gray color, and the same goes for the floors. There are patients milling around. Some are with orderlies and some are by themselves. They all have to wear these ugly green smock clothes. I’m sure Justin hates them. He’s always been a fashion mogul. I almost wish I would have brought some extra clothes for him, but even if I had, I doubt he’d be able to wear them. Why I care about what he has to wear in here, I have no idea. The point of this is to make him better, not to have him dress better than everybody else.

I stop halfway down the corridor when I realize I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. Trace didn’t say where he was meeting Justin, and I feel really uncomfortable looking for him by myself. What if some psycho comes out of their room and goes into a rage, and tries to kill me? Oh god... Thinking about this causes me to stop the first free orderly I see, so I can be escorted. Unfortunately for me, he’s the biggest guy I’ve seen all day. The kind of guy that can crush your bones with one first squeeze of his fist. I pray that I don’t’ piss him off. "Excuse me, do you know where um...Justin Timberlake is right now?"

Surprisingly enough, he smiles a little. "Oh Justin, yeah, I just saw him in the social room. Follow me, I’ll take you."

A small sense of relief washes over me, as I follow the orderly down the hallway. But my relief is short lived. We come upon the social room, and as I step inside the doorframe, I find that I have a perfectly clear view of Justin. He and Trace are sitting by the window in big oversized wicker sun chairs, conversing quietly My palms immediately start to sweat, and start to chew on my lip furiously.

"Go ahead," the orderly tells me. "He’s not gonna bite."

Easy for him to say. I don’t look back at him, and I step into the room. It’s really nice in here. A lot nicer than the hallway...or Madison’s office. I bet this is Justin’s favorite place, because he can keep to himself, and not be bombarded with a million questions. There’s no bars on these windows either, but there are extra orderlies stationed at every corner. This is a place to be free, I realize. A place to veg out and try to be normal. I’m glad it’s here. I’m sure most of the people in here are just looking for a place to be normal. It’s nice that they considered that when they built the place. I manage to step closer to Trace and Justin, and then Justin turns suddenly, like he’s known somebody was staring at him. I stop in my tracks, and I don’t say anything. Hell, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.

It’s hard for me to tell if Justin looks better from the last time I saw him. Because when I saw him last, he was still a little beat up, and his ribs were still all messed up. His expression was always a pained one, a confused one. Now though, I don’t really see it as much. He has bags under his eyes, like he’s only gotten enough sleep to keep him awake for his therapy and nothing more. His face has a little stubble, but I can tell that he’s been trying to shave as often as he can. Justin doesn’t really like facial hair. He always used to tell me that it made him look too old, and that he never wanted too look old...because he’d barely had a chance to be young. I smile a little. I remember that Justin. That Justin was so much different from this one. He had a heart...

I wish I could find him again.

"There you are." Trace breaks the awkward silence and rises out of his chair. "We were wondering when you’d get out of Madison’s office."

I’m sure Trace was the only one who was wondering where I was, but it’s okay. I’ll give him credit for trying to make this situation as calm as possible. I don’t look at Trace though. I simply continue to stare at Justin’s slightly pissed off expression until I find the courage to say: "Hi, Justin."

For a moment, he doesn’t seem to know what to do. He looks down at his hands and fumbles with the bottom of his shirt for a bit. I can only imagine what kind of thoughts are running through his head right now, and I’m hoping that he doesn’t decide to lash out at me.

"Hi," he says finally.

We’re actually making progress. Granted, it was just a hello...but it could have been worse. He could have started screaming at me or something. I decide to be a little bolder. "How are you?"

But then the calm expression on his face fades, and I know I should have kept our conversation at a ‘hello’ and nothing more. He shoots me a sarcastic smirk. "How do you think I am, Kerri?"

My mouth gapes open a little, and I quickly glance at Trace. He doesn’t look hopeful though, not at all. We both know this is about to turn ugly. "I..."

"Let me tell you," Justin continues. "I don’t know what I was thinking keeping my feelings bottled up for all that time. Being here is like a dream come true. I just love the bars on the windows, and the lukewarm rubber tasting food, and the attire. And oh...I especially love getting stripped searched in the mornings. That’s the best part." He rolls his eyes and gets up from his chair.

"Come on Justin," Trace speaks up, while I stand there in shock. "Just calm down."

"Don’t tell me to calm down," he seethes, and moves closer to the window. "You fuckin brought her here. So you have to deal with the consequences." He leans against the window sill, and gazes out the window. He looks so comfortable this way, and I know this must be one the many things he does to rid himself of the stress that builds up inside of him from day to day.

I wish I had a spot like that back at school. "I’ll just go wait in the car...," I begin to tell Trace, but he grabs my arm before I can even think about taking a step backward.

"Yeah I did bring her here, and it was for your sake," Trace says sternly. "You need her Justin." He shakes his head and looks at me for a long moment. "And she needs you."

This is too emotional for me to bear. I just want to run...run away and never turn back. I try to pull away from Trace, but his grip is too firm. Dammit, he can’t force me into staying! "Let go, Trace!" I tell him roughly.

And he does, but only because his phone starts to ring. I step backward, ready to run.., but then Trace looks at me as if to say he’s going to disown me if I bail out on the situation. I sigh heavily. I don’t know what to do. No matter what my decision though, I’m going to end up pissing somebody off. Damn, why am I always stuck in the middle? It’s just like that time in the woods, when Justin was about to give up. If I left him it would have been bad, if I stayed, it would have been worse for the both of us. I thought I’d moved past all this. I thought I was independent enough to make my own decisions...but I guess I’m still as weak as I was when I got home from the hospital. Everything starts to get blurry. I’m tired...I realize it for the first time in weeks. I’m so...I’m so damn tired. I take a seat in the first chair that comes into view, and I put my head in my hands. I wish Trace would get off the phone and take me back to Justin’s. I need to pack and get out of here. I need to get back to the city. I need a drink...

"Please don’t cry."

I look up, and when my vision clears, I see Justin. I’m confused. Was he the one who said that? "I’m not crying," I say stupidly, as I try to wipe the tears out of my eyes.

He takes a seat in the chair next to me. "This isn’t easy for me...seeing you," he admits.

He looks tired too. Not as tired as I look I’m sure, but tired all the same. I guess I need to understand why he blew up at me. We arrived home on bad terms, we went through a nightmare, and then we parted on bad terms. This isn’t a fairy tale, and people in Justin’s situation don’t take things like this well. I just wish that things didn’t have to be so complicated. I wish we could be the friends we were three years ago. Maybe if we were, he’d be more rational with me right now. "I know," I manage to say. "I can leave...and then you won’t have to worry about it okay? I just thought you would want me to come out here, don’t ask me why." I sigh and run my hands through my hair. "Maybe it was because I was there. I guess maybe I thought I could help or something."

His brow furrows and a serious expression takes the place of his annoyed one. He seems to be considering what I’ve said very carefully. He doesn’t want to say the wrong thing...like, that it’s okay that I’m here, because that could result in some horrible consequences. Because if he doesn’t mean it...I’ll be even more crushed.

"Please know that I don’t hate you," he says finally. "I could never hate you Kerri."

I search his eyes for any sign of dishonesty, but there is none. He meant that. And it was the first positive thing that’s come out of his mouth since we were locked in that basement. Somehow, I manage to smile a little bit. "I could never hate you either," I whisper.

He raises his hand to my face, and for a moment I think he might touch me, but then he draws his hand back. "I should go. It’s almost time for group."

"Oh...yeah." My voice quivers slightly as I say the words, and we both rise from our chairs at the same time. "I’m...I’m sorry if I caused you any more stress," I tell him, pausing halfway to the door. "I just...I know you can pull through this Justin."

He nods a little, but doesn’t say anything else. "Tell Trace I’ll call him tomorrow."

"Okay."

Then he walks past me and out of the room. Just like that, he’s out of my life again, and I’m still standing here wondering what the hell just happened.

"He left?"

I hear Trace’s voice behind me, but I don’t turn to look at him. "He did," I say softly. I feel his hand on my shoulder a moment later, and I grab onto it for support.

"You talked a little then?"

I shrug, and lean into him. "If you consider a couple of words talking."

"It’ll get better," he reassures me. "I know it will."

I wish I had the kind of confidence that Trace does. I wish I could suck all the pain up, and stay positive. But I can’t be that way. Everything is hard, everything is sad...everything is a tragedy. I guess that’s what happens when you are pushed to your limit...locked up and threatened...beaten and tortured. You just...you lose hope. And in Justin’s case...

I don’t think he’ll ever get that hope back.

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