“Damn.” I roughly slap the journal closed. I’ve just aggravated myself again, so I’ll stop writing and try to calm down. I sit back against the large oak tree, and gaze up into it’s branches. I love looking at them. They’re so big and strong…they shelter me, and when I sit here I often feel protected, like nothing can harm me. It’s funny, I didn’t even know this tree was here until I returned home, and I’ve been living here for a good eight months now. I guess I was just too involved with my career to take the time to notice it. It’s a great spot though. It helps me to think, and get my thoughts down in my journal. Madison’s List says it’s important that I make enough time to write in my journal every day, and if I can I should try to write an afternoon entry and an entry right before I go to sleep. But really, I don’t see the point in writing two entries a day. I mean, how much can happen between the afternoon and the evening? I think Madison is trying to keep me from burying everything inside of me again…but I really don’t’ want to think about Shane and fucking sex all day every day. It gets tiring, and it fucks with my head too much. I’d rather just watch tv, or go downstairs and shoot pool, or play basketball. Anything is better than thinking about that bastard.

Leaving the clinic was a very awkward experience for me. I remember Trace and I spent the morning packing my bags, while my mother conversed with Madison for awhile. Strangely, my mind was a lot clearer than it had been in awhile. Like, I started to see things a lot differently than I had before. In fact, the first thing I noticed was how drastically Trace’s attitude had changed. He was really nervous, fidgety; unlike anything I’d seen in the past. He was just talking and talking and talking…about nothing. It was like he felt he had to say something, because if he didn’t something bad would happen. Now, I don’t know if he’s been doing this all along, or if it’s just a recent thing. I don’t remember being able to focus on anything for a prolonged period of time, before I went to the clinic though…so I think Trace might have been acting like this all along. I asked him if he was nervous, and then he just let out a nervous laugh and said ‘No, of course not, why do you ask? I’m fine, just tired. You know, you need some food…and juice and shit…Oh and there's this new demo that Marty got from this guy...”

And he just rambled on, and on and on. So I gave up trying to figure him out, reasoning I had more important things to focus on that day anyway. I know Trace was just nervous because I was coming home, and he wanted everything to be as normal for me as it could be, I guess. That’s the kind of friend he is. Although, he’s been acting the very same way since I came home; always nervous, always jumpy, always afraid to do or say the wrong thing in front of me. I’m sort of confused about it…but I guess everything that happened is still having an impact on him. He has a job to do too…planning my tour and shit. I guess that would make anybody edgy. But he’s going to Barbados with Elisha next week, and I’m sure he’ll get to unwind then. At least I know his trip won’t be anything like Hawaii was, that’s for sure.

After my things were packed, and I’d finished getting showered and dressed, there was really nothing left for me to do but be on my way. I remember standing in front of the mirror for a few extra moments that day, taking myself in. I was wearing regular clothes and I felt almost normal, almost like myself. Definitely nothing like a person who had been sitting in a psychiatric clinic for three weeks. I realized it was the first small step in the long road to my recovery. But I knew that I still had a long way to go before I could even think about being the same independent person I’d once been.

Trace and my mother went to the car ahead of me, so that I could say goodbye to Madison privately, even though I know my mother would have rather stuck around to hear everything if things had gone her way. I figured being alone with Madison was probably a good thing though, and that I should probably get anything that was burdening me off of my chest before I left, as it would be an entire week before I would see her again. I spoke quickly, nervously. I was trying to get everything out at once, and I guess I was confusing Madison more than I thought, because once we reached the doors she gripped me by the shoulders and told me to calm down and take a deep breath.

“You’re nervous.” She’d nodded, and fixed one of the sleeves on my t-shirt. “And that’s understandable, but Justin…I’m only a phone call away okay? I gave Trace my home phone number and my cell number as well. You can call me anytime, day or night.”

This should have reassured me, but it didn’t. I guess I was just overwhelmed by everything that was going on that day; that I was going home, that I was going to be facing the people that didn’t know the truth about what happened to me. That I was going to be living with Kerri…yeah, that was a whole other situation in itself. One that I wouldn’t be able to focus on until much later on. I finally realized I wasn’t just nervous, I was terrified, and I think if I was bolder I would have tried to beat up an orderly so I would be forced to stay in that place. But I wasn’t bold. I was just a wimp who couldn’t get his act together and face what happened to him. And what did I do to handle all the stress building up inside of me?

That’s right. I cried, right there by the front doors. I cried, like the little faggot I am, and I couldn’t stop. Madison hugged me, and repeatedly reassured me that everything was going to be okay, using the same tone that coaxed me out of the shower stall the day Walter‘s strip search freaked me out. But that day, her tone couldn’t reassure me the way it had before. I didn’t know what was going to happen once I got home, and I was terrified of how much my home environment and the outside world had changed since I’d been gone. What did my friends think of me now? How was my mom handling things behind closed doors? How did Kerri feel being in my house without me? And Trace, how the hell was he keeping himself together under all the pressure? I didn’t have any answers, and I think that was a big part of the reason I was so scared to begin with.

But more so, I was really worried about how the world viewed me as a person since the kidnapping. I knew I still had my fans, I’ll always have my fans; but I didn’t want them to know what Shane had turned me into. I was still very insecure about that, and I still am. I mean, during the interviews I did regarding the kidnapping, I barely hinted at what I’d been through. I told the reporters the bare minimum; that we were kidnapped for ransom , that it was horrible, and how all I wanted to do was get back to my career, and focus on moving on with my life. I know my interviews were hardly enough for the press though. They want more…much more. They want details, they want a graphic depiction of everything that happened. They want Kerri. They want to bring her into to it…they want to harass her and question her. Not only about what happened, but about the friendship she’s shared with me since we were kids. I won’t let that happen though. I’ll never ever make her go through it. She doesn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve to be forced into my kidnapping either. I figure the best gift I can give her right now is privacy. Hell, one of us deserves it.

From what my mom has told me, Johnny’s phone still won’t stop ringing. Thankfully, the news about my rehab hasn’t leaked, but that doesn’t’ mean the press doesn’t want more statements and interviews from me. All the big talk shows are still interested in hearing about what happened. They want to book me so I can ‘discuss my feelings’ with them. Sixty Minutes and Oprah want me to do sit downs with them. But I don’t want to fucking talk about any of this with them. It’s none of their damn business. If it had happened to them, if they were kidnapped and had Butt Sex, I wouldn’t go bugging them to retell their story.

Why can’t I ever just be left alone?

“Don’t make me go,” I remember sobbing the words into Madison‘s shoulder, and clinging to her like a small child would have. I knew I looked like a fucking fool, but I didn’t care. I was so scared…so weak. I just wanted to hide from everything again, even though I knew that wasn’t going to help me get better. “I want to stay,” I’d blubbered. “Tell them something is wrong with me. Tell them I’m a psycho. I’ll do anything Mad, please.”

“Justin, come on now. You know I can’t do that,” Madison chuckled lightly. Then she gave me one last reassuring squeeze, and pulled away from me. For the first time ever I saw tears in her eyes. She wouldn’t admit it to me then, and she never will; but I know she was scared for me. But she was powerless when it came to keeping me in the clinic. I checked myself in voluntarily, and she’d already signed the statement saying that I was stable enough to go back home. There was no choice. I was going home, and I had to deal with it.

“I’ll see you in a week.” It was the last thing she said to me before she turned and retreated down the hallway. I was left standing at the door, and I watched her until she disappeared around a corner. Eventually, I was able to pull myself together, but I was still more confused than I’d been in awhile. Part of me wanted to follow her, but I knew I couldn’t’ do that. Trace and momma were waiting for me…they were fully expecting me to walk out of the clinic and back into the reality that was my life. So was Kerri, so were the guys…so was everybody else that was involved with me, my life, and my career. So I did. I did it for them. And right now, I wish like hell I hadn’t. The days that followed would prove to me how unstable I really am, and that I’m definitely not ready to go back to my hectic, overwhelming lifestyle.

The entire car ride back to my house, was an intense, nerve-racking experience for me. I wasn’t used to being in a car, as I hadn’t been outside the clinic since I was checked into it. Every sharp turn we made, caused my stomach to do flip flops, and every red light we paused at caused me to sink lower in my seat. I was terrified of being seen by somebody. I didn’t want anybody talking to me, or trying to touch me. I just wanted to be left alone. I could tell Trace and momma were worried about my state of mind too, because they seemed to be taking turns asking if I was okay. At first I responded to their questions with ‘I’m fine,’ but after forty five minutes of answering the same questions over and over I got fed up. I curled up next to the door and closed my eyes. I pretended to fall asleep, and they bought it, even though I never ended up falling asleep. It gave me some insight though. I could hear everything they were discussing. It was mostly stuff I already knew about. Like, Trace told my mom about Madison’s List and what he was going to have to do with me every day to help me get better.

I’d read over the List a little bit during my last session with Madison, and even though I didn’t agree with most of the stuff she‘d put on it, I knew it was for my own good. I don’t know, I guess a lot of it made me feel like I was a little kid who had to be under constant supervision. My house had to be ‘Justin proofed’, meaning all the locks had to be taken off the doors in case I went psycho and tried to lock myself in a room. All sharp objects that I could have used to injure myself with had be locked away where I couldn’t get to them. Trace did it, and he went to extremes too. All of my awards and trophies and shit were put into this big ass case. I can’t touch them without his supervision. That pissed me off most of all. I mean I’m not that psycho. I wouldn’t snap my moon man in half to cut myself. I told him that, but he just shook his head and said that “if it’s sharp it’s going away.” I didn’t blow up at him, because I knew he’d busted his ass to get my house fixed before I arrived home…but still, it just…it just made me feel like I had no freedom.

But that was only the beginning.

The List says I’m not allowed to drink soda out of the can. But it doesn’t matter, because we don’t even buy cans anymore, we just have bottles. Really, I shouldn’t be drinking soda anyway because it’s bad for my diet and I have to be in shape for the VMA’s…but Trace gives me a little slack. I can have diet…diet won’t hurt me that much, so long as I don‘t drink too much of it. The soda can thing doesn’t really annoy me that much though. It’s the other things that really get on my nerves. Like, I have to use plastic silver ware, paper cups, and paper plates. I can’t use scissors, paper cutters, box cutters, razor blades, or pencil sharpeners. Trace lets me have paper and pens, but that’s only after I promise him I’ll come to my senses and tell him if I feel like I want to give myself paper cuts or try to stab myself with my pen or some stupid shit.

I can’t even open a can of Spaghettio’s without telling Trace about it first. Actually, I can’t even cook for myself without somebody looming over me…so I don’t do it anymore. It’s not worth it, because I get nervous when people are up my ass like that, and I end up fucking things up. My mom‘s been cooking mostly, Trace too, and we get take out a lot. I microwave too; like Hot Pockets, and those kick ass pizza bites. I’m getting used to all of this I guess. I’ve learned how to live without a lot of things. What scares me is I know the time will come when Trace won’t really be able to watch me twenty four seven. Yeah, he’ll be my personal assistant, but with all the work he has to do I don’t see how he’ll have the time to worry about my mental state. We’ll be on tour, and everything that I’m prohibited from using right now, will be within my reach. I hope I’ll have calmed down more by then. I hope I don’t have bad dreams about Shane and become weak and vulnerable again. I hope I can be level headed, independent. But I don’t see how I can do a complete one eighty in such a short time.

Trace has taken Walter’s place as well. He wakes me up in the morning, and let’s me get myself together before he hands me my coffee. Madison suggested that I shouldn’t be allowed to have caffeine, but Trace knows better. I’m hellish in the morning if I don’t have my coffee. It was different in the clinic, because I knew I had to abide by the rules or else Walter would have forced me to. But now I’m home. I’m home and I’ll drink a gallon of coffee every day if I want to. I’m really glad Trace understands that…but he always has. Hell, he’s a coffee freak too. So, every morning we sit in my bedroom and watch Al Roker, and drink our coffees. This week my flavor of choice is Starbucks Mocha Bean. Kerri went and picked it out while I was at the clinic because she knows how much I love my coffee, and that I love to try new flavors.

After coffee, we go into the bathroom. It’s just as before. I have to strip down to my boxers, and Trace has to examine me. Initially, the idea that Trace would have to see me that way scared the crap out of me. But after I’d discussed my feelings with Madison, I realized I could trust Trace to do the job; because he was the one who had discovered I’d been cutting myself in the first place. Madison showed him the proper way to check my body before I came home too; and it makes me feel more secure that he knows what he’s doing. I know my cuts still pain him though. Every morning I see the same worried expression on his face that he had that night on the beach. But it‘s not like I can blame him. I mean, I know what he saw me doing to myself, and I know what I admitted to him. He has every right to still be freaked out about it all.

Sometimes I look at them…the scars left behind by my cutting, and they scare me. I don’t remember making half of them, and I don’t remember them causing me any pain. But some of the scratches are so deep, especially the words inscribed on my inner right thigh, that I’m amazed that I wasn’t crying out in pain while I was making them. I guess I was numb, yeah. But, thinking about Shane and what he did to me could make anybody numb I suppose.

Shaving and showering are easier. Trace and I have a lot of good conversations while I shave in the morning. It’s the only time we ever talk about the kidnapping in detail. I guess I feel more secure talking to him about it all in the bathroom, because nobody else is allowed to be in there while Trace is checking me out. I mean, I tell him some pretty graphic shit. Besides Madison, he’s the only one that knows the full extent of what happened to me. Kerri doesn’t even know a lot of the stuff I’ve told him. I mean she knows about what Shane and I did, but I didn’t go into detail about how everything went down that day. Like…Butt Sex. I call it Butt Sex now, because it sounds a lot more appealing than just ’sex with Shane’. It’s almost humorous. It almost…makes the whole thing seem okay. Trace doesn’t find amusement in my phrase though, even though I know if we were talking about somebody else we would both laugh our asses off. But it’s me. I’m the one who had Butt Sex…and it really isn’t anything to laugh about. He knows about the bathroom kiss too. It was hard for me to tell him about that, but Madison told me that I would need to tell Trace everything because he was my Lifeline and I needed put all of my trust in him.

“I made out with Shane,” I told him one morning. We weren’t talking about anything in particular at the time. Just about how Kerri rented a movie the night before and wanted us to watch it with her that evening. We’d been doing a lot of that since I’d gotten home. I didn’t want to go out …ever, so Trace and Kerri took it upon themselves to keep us entertained in the evenings. We played a lot of cards, and watched a lot of movies. More than anything though, Trace would whip out his video camera and the three of us would sit on my back deck and have a group discussion about our feelings. It was another thing on Madison’s List, and damn, did it ever help. I started to get to know Kerri all over again. Surprisingly, she was pretty open about her feelings. She talked a lot about fear, and how she felt while we were in there. I mean, of course I knew she was still keeping things from me, but I guess I expected that. Even though we’ve reconciled, I know she still doesn’t trust me completely…and I don’t trust her either. It’s going to take time, a long time, for me to be as close with her as I used to be. But we’re working on it…we’re working on it and that’s all that matters to me right now.

“What do you mean?” he’d asked, while handing me my razor.

“Just what I said.” I leaned forward and began to pull the razor across my shaving cream lathered face. “It was the first time…you know, the first time he touched me. It was the morning of the second day. Kerri and I managed to fall asleep somehow, and then the morning came before I knew it. Like, the door opened. It was always easy to tell when somebody was opening the door too. It was really rusty you know…and like, the lock made this fucking sick clicking sound.” I waited for him to say something, but as always, he simply took a seat on the toilet and waited for me to continue. I guess he figured listening was the best thing he could do, because if he said the wrong thing it would upset me.

“Shane came down and forced me to go upstairs with him,” I’d continued. “I was scared you know? But like…it was weird. He was talking in this sort of soft whisper. He kept telling me to behave and shit. I was so naïve then too…so fucking naïve, Trace.” I paused and ran the razor under the faucet for a moment. “First he called mom and I talked to her a little. He punched me too, because I tried to take the phone back when he took it away from me. I was a mess afterwards…crying and shit. I was so scared, and I wanted to talk to my mom again. Then he yanked me up off the floor told me I was going to use the bathroom. I wasn’t so scared then, because I had to pee really bad. Then like, he let me in there, but he didn’t stay outside…he came in with me. I didn’t show him how uncomfortable I was, because I figured he probably had to pee too. But you know…” I leaned against the sink and bowed my head. “He didn’t have to pee,” I’d admitted, with a shake of my head. “He just…he wanted me, you know?”

I looked over at Trace, and even though I knew he was disturbed by my story, he wasn’t letting his emotions show. It made me more confident that I could tell him what happened. Like…that Shane did a lot more than just kiss me that day. When it first happened, I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to believe that I let Shane, a man, do something like that to me. It was only one time, and I figured it would stop after that…but of course it didn’t stop. I tried my best to block it out…and I didn’t tell anybody about it until I went to the clinic and opened up to Madison about Shane. It’s strange, the Butt Sex was a lot easier to talk about. I could sort of believe that I didn’t want to do that with Shane. Madison explained to me that I was forced into it, and in a way, having Butt Sex was the only way to save Kerri’s life. It made sense; but I still feel like I could have stopped him. I still feel that I enjoyed what happened. I mean, even Shane said it: I saw the smile on your face…I felt your hard on.

Still, he did hold Kerri over my head before he had Butt Sex with me. If I didn’t give in, if I didn’t behave, I really don’t think Kerri would still be alive right now.

But he didn’t hold Kerri over my head when he pulled my pants down in that bathroom. And he didn’t hold Kerri over my head when he went down on me. I hate to admit it, but I let him do it. There was nothing stopping me from yelling at him to stop, there was nothing stopping me from hitting him or trying to take his gun away. Nathan wasn‘t there, it was just me and Shane in that tiny bathroom. I let him do that…and I found out who I really was that day. “He went down on me,” I’d blurted it out so fast, I barely heard myself say the words. I know I scared the hell out of Trace, just like I had the night I told him about Shane and the Butt Sex. He had the same look on his face.

“Okay,” he’d finally said. “You didn’t make out with him, Justin, and you didn’t let him go down on you. He just…he was sick okay? He was a sick person that did sick things. It wasn’t your fault. You had a gun to your head. What the hell were you supposed to do?” He’d shaken his head roughly. “If you tried to stop him, he probably would have killed you.”

But I only shrugged. I couldn’t see things his way. I was there. I saw it. I felt it. It was real, and I could have stopped it.

“You don’t’ believe me,” he’d informed me. “I know you don’t.”

It makes me feel so guilty when he says shit that. I mean, I know he’s been like a brother to me my whole life, and I know he wants to help me get through this. But I don’t think he deserves to be burdened with my tragedy all the time; because it didn’t happen to him, it happened to me. I know it’s taking it’s toll on his emotions, and I know it’s pushing his relationship with Elisha to the limit. That’s another thing…his relationship. I really like Elisha a lot. She’s the first decent girl that’s come into his life in a long time, and I know he loves her with his whole heart. If this thing pisses her off enough, and she leaves him, I’ll never forgive myself. His heart will be shattered, and I don’t know what he’ll do. You know, I really need to start focusing more on Kerri. She doesn’t have a relationship, at least not one that I’m aware of, and she was there with me too.

But, I guess I’ll have my chance to focus more of my attention on Kerri next week.

When Trace told me that Elisha wanted to go away with him, of course I didn’t protest. Elisha was probably bugging the hell out of him about it, and I’m sure it took him a long time to get the guts to bring the subject up to me. I can’t say that the thought of not having Trace by my side for a week didn’t make me nervous. It was quite the opposite. But I knew he needed some alone time with his girlfriend before I went on tour, and I made sure to point that out to him. Trace was really unsure about going though. He was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle myself without him, and that I would turn into an emotional disaster all over again. It kind of hurt me that Trace didn’t have a lot of faith in me, but I didn’t tell him that. I could understand why he wouldn’t. I‘d hurt myself pretty bad, and I didn’t ask for help until I was forced to. I’d only gotten a second chance at my life, because Trace cared enough to pull me out of the dark and get me help. I was only just getting back on my feet too, and I think we both knew that any small mishap would send me right back to where I’d been three weeks ago.

The fact that Trace would be gone for a week wasn’t the biggest problem we were facing, however. It was finding somebody to fill in for him that was the hard part. The first option was my mother, and Trace seemed to think it was the best option available, but I didn’t agree. My mom still doesn’t know about the Butt Sex, because I’m still too ashamed to tell her about it. I guess telling Trace and Kerri about it was easier, because Trace has seen me do some shit that my mother still has no idea about. And Kerri well…Kerri was there with me. My mom though, I mean, she’s worried enough as it is without me springing something like that on her. I’m scared too; scared of what she would think about me if I told her. I think she would be ashamed that I let something like that happen. I’m supposed to be smarter than that, and I’m sure she would point that out. I love my mom. My mom is my rock…she’s the one who made my dreams come true. She sacrificed her life, her dreams, so I could live mine. How would telling her that I had Butt Sex make her feel? It would make her feel like a failure, like she had a freak for a son. I don’t think I can ever tell her what really happened, and that hurts me because I hate keeping stuff from my mom; but I know there isn’t any other way.

“If you’re not going to let your mom do it, then who’s gonna do it?,” Trace had grunted, before aiming his pool stick at the cue. We’d been in my basement, playing round after round of eight ball, while debating how to handle the situation. I was a little bitter, as I’d been losing nearly every game. Trace has always been better at pool than me, and I think I decided to get the pool table more for his sake than mine. I’m much better at video games, and bowling. Trace sucks at bowling though, and I think I might get a lane put in my basement just to spite him.

“I dunno,” I’d plopped down into my overstuffed leather chair, and looked on helplessly while Trace continued to sink more balls. “Maybe Madison will stay here.”

He rolled his eyes. “Get serious.”

In my heart I knew she wouldn’t stay with me. She has dozens of other patients to handle. I guess my spoiled ass was hoping she would give all that up for a week and stay with me because I was more important. But I wasn’t more important, and Trace pointed that out. I’m so thankful to have him around. He’s the only one that can keep me grounded. He’s the only one that can show me that I’m not that special. “Just put me in a home,” I’d grunted in annoyance. “That’s where I belong anyway.”

Trace didn’t say anything to me though. He never does when I choose to make derogatory comments about myself. He thinks its childish or something…that’s what he tells me anyway. He sank the rest of the pool balls, and then finally the eight ball. His brow was furrowed, not in concentration, but in thought. Then he stood up straight, and finally looked at me. “What about Kerri?,” he’d suggested softly. “She’s reliable.”

Naturally, the idea of being alone with Kerri for a week, wasn’t something I was comfortable with. Yeah, she’d been living with me, but it wasn’t like we were spending quality time alone together. Trace was always hanging out with us, and if he happened to go out someplace, I would usually hide away in my room, or go outside and try to write in my journal. I tried to make myself believe that I wasn’t avoiding her, but I know I was. It confused me. I was so open with her at the clinic. I told her about Shane and stuff, and she was okay about it. Hell, we even hugged, and I was the one who wanted her to stick around. She sacrificed a lot to come out and stay with me too, and I still feel horrible about that. I need to repay her somehow, even though I have no idea how I’m supposed to do that. I suppose talking to her more would help, but that’s going to be really hard for me. I guess she still makes me uneasy. I guess…I guess she still reminds me of everything that happened.

I thought about Trace’s suggestion for a few minutes, while he re-wracked the pool balls. I knew I would be uncomfortable being alone with Kerri but I didn’t know who else was going to take Trace’s place if I decided Kerri couldn’t be the one. The guys and my other friends don’t know I was in the clinic. Trace told them that I’d gone to Maui for a photo shoot, and that I was so comfortable there I’d decided to stay for a few more weeks. It was a big lie, but I’m glad he did it. I didn’t want my friends to know that I was having problems, because then they would have wanted to know details. Then they would have found out about the cutting, and then…they would have wanted to know why I was cutting…

They can’t know why.

Finally, I agreed with Trace. I figured Kerri was the only one who could truly understand me, and put up with all the shit I had to do to fix myself. Of course I knew it would be weird, and hard. But on the other hand, it would probably give us the chance to work on rebuilding our friendship; something I desperately wanted to get back. Trace was relieved that we’d resolved our problem, and I was happy that he would be able to go to Barbados with Elisha and have a nice, relaxing vacation.

He’ll still worry about me of course, but not as much as he normally does. He trusts Kerri. He trusts her more than I’ve been able to trust her in a long time.

When the three of us sat down to discuss what was going to happen when Trace went on vacation, Kerri didn’t seem that uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with me. Her attitude was a positive one. She even seemed a little excited; she said it would be a challenge for the both of us, and that she was sure that we needed a week alone together to reconnect anyway. I sort of agreed with her, but I was still scared….It hadn’t hit me that she would be the one to strip search me until that moment.

I have to remind myself every day that that she’s going to have to touch me, and I know it’s going to be hard. I haven’t allowed any woman to put her hands on me since Cameron and I were together. It doesn’t take much to set me off, and I’m afraid that she’ll do something to trigger a bad memory, and I’ll end up hitting her because of it. I still can’t get past the fact that I did that to Cam. Cam was so sweet, and nice…and she loved me, she really did. I slapped her, I hurt her, and I don’t think she’ll ever speak to me again. I have to prepare myself. I have to call Madison and talk to her about all of this…

If I hit Kerri, I’ll never forgive myself.

Kerri hasn’t seen my cuts yet either, and I don’t know how she’s going to react when she sees them for the first time. COME BACK is another issue. I know I can’t’ hide that from her, because it’s going to be her responsibility to check my whole body. But I don’t want to tell her why I scratched those words into my thigh. I don’t want to tell her it was because she left.

I don’t want to hurt her.

“Hey you.”

I hear somebody say the words, and it scares me to death, because nobody ever comes out here and bothers me while I’m writing in my journal. Naturally, I assume the worst has happened…Shane is back, everybody is dead and I’m about to be forced into Butt Sex again. I yell: “Who’s there!,” and I spring to my feet and whirl around. I clutch my journal tightly to my chest with one hand, and raise my pen in a defensive pose with the other; ready to attack whoever it is that’s come to get me. I’m no fool…I know what can happen if you aren’t prepared…

Nathan wasn’t prepared.

Kerri drops the bag in her hand to the ground, and jumps back. “I…” she begins to say, but her breath catches in her throat, cutting her speech short. She slowly backs away from me; her eyes wide with confusion and fear.

“Oh…” I let out a small whimper, and lower my attacking hand. I drop my journal and the pen on the grass, and stare back at Kerri. She looks shocked, and terrified of me. I feel so stupid and pathetic. I glance down at the bag she dropped. It’s from McDonalds. Right…Trace said we were gonna get McDonalds today, but that was hours ago. I just…I forgot. Damn it. “Uh I just…I…you just scared me.” I rub a trembling hand across the top of my head and down the back of my neck. “Sorry, Kerri.”

She slowly bends down and picks the bag up from the ground, before speaking again. “Don’t worry.” She forces a smile. “I probably would have done the same thing.”

I sigh. “No you wouldn’t have.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, and looks down at the grass for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “Are you okay?”

I nod quickly. “Yeah, just fine.” I swallow hard and make an attempt to change the subject. “So…Trace sent you to get lunch?”

“Oh,” she smiles a little and glances at the bag in her hand. “Yeah. I got you two cheeseburgers and a French fry. Trace said to get you a burger, but not a Quarter Pounder because it has too much bread or something…I dunno. Anyway, here.” She hands me the bag, and I take it from her.

“Thanks.” I sit down under the Oak tree again, and pull one of the cheeseburgers out of the bag. I look at it, realize how many calories are in it, and then I put it back in. I’ll eat something later; like a bowl of Special K, yeah. My stomach is still in knots from when Kerri scared me anyway, and I don’t think I could stomach anything right now. I look up at her after a moment, and realize that she doesn’t have a bag of food for herself. “Did you eat?” I ask her, the concern apparent in my voice.

She comes closer and sits down in front of me. “Yeah, I had one of those fruit parfait things. I’m not really big on McDonalds. There‘s some leftover pizza in the fridge. I‘m going to have some of that in a little.”

“Oh.” I reach out and grab my journal and pen, just to be on the safe side. Then I sit back against the trunk of the tree and wait for Kerri to say something, but she doesn’t. She just stares at me, or the sky, or the grass. She doesn’t know what to say to say to me.

The awkward silence has arrived. This always seems to happen to Kerri and I if we ever end up by ourselves. I guess it’s because it doesn’t happen that often, or because we’re both so fucked up we don’t want to talk to each other, for the fear that Shane, Nathan, or Butt Sex might makes their way into our conversation. But really, it’s better if we start talking now instead of waiting until Trace leaves. We’ll be more comfortable around each other that way. But what the hell do I say to her? What should I talk to her about? I don’t want to talk about all that dramatic stuff right now. I just want to have a normal conversation with the girl for once. I want to talk to her like I used to talk her three years ago. Man, we had so much in common then. But now, I think the only thing we have in common is the fucking kidnapping. It’s my fault though. I walked out on her…I tossed her to the side like she was nothing. I deserve this.

I deserve everything that happened to me.

“I started a puzzle today.”

I look at her strangely. “What puzzle?”

She laughs softly and starts to pick at the grass below her left sneaker. “I was really bored this morning, so I snooped around your living room and I found this thousand piece puzzle under your couch. It was Mickey Mouse, you know…the one from Fantasia with the cool wizard hat.”

I have to think for a moment . Normally I wouldn‘t remember some so insignificant. I buy so much shit, on so many different occasions, that I can‘t remember half of it. But then, something clicks in my mind. Steven. I think Steven would have sold his soul to the devil for that damn puzzle. So, I bought it for him. Man, he was so happy. I think it was because it was one of those things we could do together. He always wants to do stuff with me, even if we only have a single day to spend together. That’s why I feel so guilty when I have to ditch him for work. If it were up to me, I would just take a year off and spend every single day with both of my brothers. “Oh yeah,” I laugh a little. “That’s been under there for awhile…I almost forgot about it. Steven made me buy it for him when he was here visiting. I was supposed to do it with him.” I pause and frown. “But of course, I never got around to it.”

“It’s Steve‘s?,” she gasps, and her eyes widen like she‘s performed some sort of unspeakable act. “Oh…should I have not put it together? I mean…because I can take it apart, Justin. I can…”

“Ker,” I interrupt her and laugh a little. “Calm down, it’s just a puzzle.”

“Yeah I know,” she murmurs, and looks back down at the grass again. “But I don’t want piss you off or anything.”

It’s obvious that she’s afraid of me, and I hate myself for it. But I should expect her to be afraid of me. After the way I treated her before she went back to New York, who could blame her? And the fact that I practically attacked her with my pen before isn’t helping the situation either. “I’m gonna try really hard to like…not be so moody,” I tell her. “I never meant to be a jerk back in Tennessee, Kerri. I didn’t mean those things I said, and I didn’t mean to push you like that. I was just really confused, and Shane well…I was still thinking about him and stuff…” I cut my speech short. I’m getting into what I don’t want to get into. Normal, Justin, I tell myself. Try to have a normal conversation with her for once. “Never mind,” I blurt out, and shake my head. “Just don’t be afraid of me, okay? Don’t be afraid to touch things and do things to keep yourself occupied. It’s your house too.”

She shrugs. “I don’t think I’m scared, really. It’s just weird for me. I mean, we haven’t been around each other this much since…damn, I don’t even know. We hated each other, you know after we had…”

I cut her off before she can say the word I fear the most. “I never hated you.”

And she stares at me.

“Well I didn’t,” I nod. “I was just confused.”

She takes a deep breath. “Lets not talk about this.”

“Okay,” I whisper. I suck in my bottom lip and fumble with the bottom of my t-shirt.

“Justin.”

I can’t look at her. This conversation has just gotten really weird, and I don’t think I can handle it much longer.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she says. “You shouldn’t’ be thinking about--what we did right now. Geez, what‘s wrong with me? You have enough to worry about.” She runs a hand through her long blond hair, and lets out a defeated sigh. “I must be stupid or something.”

She catches on quick. She didn’t try to say the word that time. “You’re not stupid Kerri,” I reassure her. “You…you’re like, one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. You know, you always seem to know what to do to make things work out.”

She laughs. “You don’t’ know me at all, Justin.”

My smile fades. “No?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, you know the old version of me…but not this one. But don’t’ feel bad,” she tells me. “I don’t know you either. That‘s why I stayed, so we could get to know each other all over again.” She fakes another smile, and it quickly vanishes.

I wish I could tell myself that she wasn‘t making any sense, but I‘d be lying. Kerri is making perfect sense right now. The person she is now, is a lot different from the person I knew three years ago. But I want to know the person she is now. I really do. I gotta talk to her more. Suddenly, I‘m not so worried about our week alone anymore. It‘s going to be the perfect opportunity for me to talk to her and find out who she is. I feel an overwhelming sense of eagerness take over me again. Like, I’m excited. Excited to know her, to spend time with her, to focus on somebody other than fucking Shane for once. “Did you finish the puzzle?,” I finally say. I know it’s a stupid question, but the subject of puzzles is a lot safer to talk about than our troubled past.

She cocks her head to the side. “Huh?”

I give her a stupid look. “The puzzle…Steve‘s puzzle.”

“Oh!” She smacks her forehead. “Yeah, almost. I was gonna finish it tomorrow or something. I wanted something to do when I was bored. It’s starting to look good though, I‘m about halfway through. The puzzle pieces have glitter on them and stuff too. It’s going to be pretty when it’s done.”

I thumb the edge of my journal nervously. “Wanna finish it with me?”

She seems surprised that I‘ve offered. “You…you want to do it with me?”

“Yeah,” I nod. “I haven’t done a puzzle in a long time. And you know, after we finish it we can get that glue stuff and save it. I bet we could send it to Steve or something.”

She smiles genuinely. “I bet he would like that.” She gets up from the ground, and holds her hand out to me. “You wanna go inside and work on it now?”

I smile, but I don’t take her hand as I get up from the ground. I’m not ready for that yet. “Yeah,” I say. I shove my pen in my pocket, and grip my journal and my bag off food tightly in my left hand.

“You have to eat your lunch too,” she tells me as we start toward the house. “Don’t get like you get.”

I shoot her a confused glance. “Like I get?”

“With your diet.”

“There’s nothing going on with my diet. I‘m on a strict diet program, and there‘s nothing wrong with that,” I scowl. “Know-it-all.”

She laughs. “I’m not a know it all. And no, there‘s nothing wrong with dieting, but Justin, you always take your dieting to the extreme.”

“I thought you didn’t’ know me anymore,” I mutter.

“Justin, I may not know you,” she tells me. “But I know your habits.” When we reach the house, she slides open the glass door, and I follow her inside. “But ugh, this fight is stupid Justin. Come on, lets go puzzle.”

I stop following her. This whole diet conversation has sort of annoyed me, but we’ve been getting along okay today, even…better than okay, and I don’t want my stupid emotions to fuck everything up. So I‘ll relax. I‘ll let it roll off of my shoulders…but just this once. I hope for her sake, she doesn‘t bring the subject up anytime soon. I would hate to blow up at her over something so silly. “I don’t know how I feel about puzzling with a know it all,” I say, trying to hide my smile. “You might try to cheat.”

She turns to face me. “You can’t cheat at a puzzle.”

“Yes you can,” I reply childishly. “You can like, hide the edges from me or something.”

“Kerri! Are you back!” Trace’s voice bellows from somewhere in the next room, interrupting our playful banter. “What’s with this puzzle on the coffee table? I wanted to put my feet up!”

“Oops,” she giggles.

“You stole his foot rest?” I laugh. “Uh-oh Ker, now you did it. Now hes’ gonna have to do some work and make the recliner go up.”

“I heard that Justin!”

I laugh out loud. It’s like…magic. I haven’t laughed like this in…I cant’ even remember.

“You’re laughing,” she tells me quietly.

I look at her. She’s beaming. And she’s…she’s something else too. Something I can’t admit to myself yet, because it scares me and confuses me. But still, it’s there. Like…in her eyes…it’s there. “Yeah,” I say, once I regain control of myself. “I guess I am.”

“Fuckin’ Mickey Mouse,” Trace continues. “What the hell is it doing here? I’m going to take it apart!”

“Trace!” Kerri whines. “Come on, it’s a work in progress! Look, you can help us finish it okay!”

“I hate puzzles, Kerrigan!”

She motions for me to follow her, and then she stalks off into the living room. “It’s my puzzle!”

“I paid for this coffee table, specifically so I could put my feet up on it…”

I chuckle a little, and then I tune them out. I’m so carefree right now. I feel like my problems don‘t exist. That somehow, history changed and the kidnapping never happened. But I’m not stupid. I know that nothing can change the past. My problems…they’re still there, waiting for me to come down from my care free high. But right now, I’m not going to worry about them. I’m going to go in there, and do that puzzle with Trace and Kerri. I’m going to laugh and joke like I used to before Shane came along. I’m going to be me for the afternoon. Not Justin the celebrity. Not Justin the victim. Not Justin the fag. Not Justin the psychotic mental case. Just me. Just Justin.

“Justin! Come help me whack Trace with the couch cushions!”

I smile. “I’ll be right there,” I call out.

And for the first time, Shane isn’t the one making my decision for me.

Doomed From The Start