Chapter 39:
On the Bus
Kevin stared aimlessly out the bus window,
his hand cradling his chin as the scenery flashed before him, mile after
endless mile. He usually used the time to catch up on his reading, a passion he
never seemed to have enough time for, but now his mind was in such a turmoil he
knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on even a single word.
The guys were more than just a little
surprised to find Xavier and Brian already on board – Brian because he was
always the last to arrive, Xavier because they never, ever, had bodyguards
travel with them.
AJ frowned darkly as he boarded, Kevin
shaking his head slightly at his irritated friend, letting him know now was not
the time to argue. Howie had tiredly boarded, too emotionally spent to do
anything but slump into his seat and close his eyes. Nick hopped on last, his
eyes scanning for any empty seats. He stuffed his bag into an overhead
compartment, taking the only seat open, one next to Kevin. He raised his eyes
questioningly at the dark-haired singer, noticing Xavier sitting in the back,
reading what looked to be some financial magazine. Feeling strange at
whispering, he nevertheless leaned over, speaking in a hushed tone.
"Where’s Bri?"
Kevin jerked his head towards the back of
the touring bus. "Asleep," he whispered in reply, not sure why he was
also speaking in a low voice, only that it seemed somehow right. "X told
me that Brian wanted some extra zzz’s."
Nick chewed on his lip a moment,
considering. "Should I go check on him?" he asked hesitantly, nodding
at Xavier, who’s seating position on the bus made it look like he was guarding
the sleeping Backstreet Boy.
Kevin glanced at Xavier, then Nick.
"At your own risk," he joked. Nick nodded, knowing that Kevin’s
kidding was serious.
* * * * *
Brian awoke with a start, staring into the
darkness until his eyes adjusted and then he recognized by the sound and feel
that he was on the bus. He wasn’t sure how he got there; he wasn’t sure about
anything anymore. He swallowed and a spasm of pain flowed down his throat. His
hand reached up to touch his neck and suddenly he remembered. He closed his eyes,
the pain and emotions of those last few moments overwhelming him. Slowly the
emotions subsided but the pain didn’t fade. He lay there, trying to examine, to
explain what he felt. But how could he explain it? A feeling so scary, he
didn’t know whether he was imagining it or not. Pains that wracked his body,
jumpy muscles, tingling and numbness, cold, then hot. Hungry, yet he didn’t
have the energy to eat. Thirsty, yet he had to force himself to drink. Nothing
appealed to him. A tight chest, a feeling as if he was being smothered, yet he
knew he wasn’t. Shaky inside, yet outside no. Were these feelings there or not?
He prayed they weren’t, but it seemed that they never went away. He tried to
ignore it, but his body reminded him he couldn’t. Vaguely, he knew he needed to
push himself, push to fight. But what kind of fight? The physical or mental?
And could he win? Ask for help. No! You must fight it alone. You’re on your
own. There is no choice. You must win. Do something! Do it now! It’s your life,
the life of others!
Brian brought his hands up to his face,
trying to rub out the thoughts racing through his mind. They gradually faded,
but he knew they were still there, hiding. So close to the surface, he knew
eventually that they would return. He painfully turned onto his stomach,
burying his face into his pillow. He must decide. He must choose, but he
already knew the answer. The choice was not a decision, it was a given, a given
decided by Xavier.
He turned his face sideways, staring at
the slightly swaying wall of his compartment. He felt the tears forming, and he
let them flow, unchecked. He needed this release, this emptying of emotions and
fears to be washed away if he were to be successful in breaking up the group.
It took a while, just when he thought he was done, a wave of fresh tears
overtook him and he would ride it out, patiently waiting for the next onslaught
to come and finish. Exhausted, he finally closed his eyes, emotionally and
physically spent. He felt numb, a feeling he embraced with almost a fevered
passion. He wanted this feeling of nothingness, of no pain, of no anguish. He
needed control. He felt himself slipping back to sleep and he sighed, mouthing
a small confession. I’m sorry, guys. Forgive me.
***
