Chapter 6:

 

Paradise Lost

 

Brian stared up at the ceiling in the darkness. He had discovered that this was the activity that he could do with the least amount of pain. It hurt to move, it hurt to breathe, it hurt to think. So he just lay there, and stared at the ceiling. He was glad that pain deterred him from thinking, because it kept him from wondering what had happened. Every time he began to think about that question, he’d start hurting more and have to stop.

 

He wasn’t sure where he was, but for the moment that did not bother him. He was just happy to be able to stare at the ceiling with a minimal amount of agony. That was, until the door opened. The sudden light caused him to flinch, which of course, hurt. He grunted painfully, and his voice cracked as he whispered out loud.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

“You’re awake,” a voice answered him, sounding pleased.

 

“What…” Brian started. He wasn’t even sure what to ask.

 

“May I turn on the light?” the voice asked.

 

“Light hurts my eyes,” he mumbled.

 

“That’s ok then. We’ll leave it off. I won’t bother you for very long. You need all the rest you can get.” Brian nodded, closing his eyes again.

 

Dr. Westin introduced himself and pulled up a chair next to the bed.

 

“Brian do you have any idea where you are?”

 

Brian shook his head slightly. “No,” he croaked.

 

“You’re in the hospital. You were in an accident, and you have some nasty injuries. Do you understand?”

 

Brian looked confused. “An accident?”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“I don’t remember.”

 

“That’s ok,” Westin assured him.

 

“Is that why I hurt so much?”

 

“Yes. If you are feeling a lot of pain I’ll tell the nurse to give you something more for it.”

 

Brian nodded. “Please.”

 

“Ok,” he said, scribbling something on his clipboard. “I’m glad you’re doing better. You didn’t look so hot not too long ago. This is the first time you’ve woken up and been aware of your surroundings.”

 

“How long have I been here?”

 

“About two days.”

 

“Wow.” Brian nestled his head deeper into his pillow. It became very hard all of the sudden to focus on the doctor, and to keep his eyes open.

 

“I’m going to let you get some rest right now, so we’ll talk later, ok?”

 

“Yeah,” Brian said, drifting off again.

 

Westin quietly left the room and gave the nurse on duty some instructions. “It looks like he is finally coming out of it,” he remarked. “Thank goodness. Keep a close eye on him, he’s going to be a little trickier to deal with than the others.”

 

“Even more so than McLean?” The nurse asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

He handed her the clipboard. “Yes. A.J. is going to be all right given a little time. I don’t think our incident this afternoon will be repeated. Brian is going to be a little more delicate. This is going to be a long recovery. I just hope all of them make it.”

 

“What’s the news with the others?”

 

“Carter and Richardson are still in a coma. Carter had surgery a little while ago. I’m very worried about him. His immune system was already weakened when he came in. He had pneumonia. That just makes his fight that much harder. Richardson might be back in the OR soon too. Hite still suspects he has some internal bleeding.”

 

The nurse shook her head. “Boy oh boy. This is just unbelievable.”

 

*          *          *

 

“This is News Channel 4 at 10, I am Debra Daniels. Our top story tonight remains the hospitalization of the pop group the Backstreet Boys here in San Antonio. Hospital spokesmen tell us that Howie Dorough is awake and responding to questions. No improvement is reported in the most critically injured Boys, Kevin Richardson, and Nick Carter, who have both been listed in critical condition. A.J McLean has been upgraded to serious condition, as has Brian Littrell. The young men were hospitalized two days ago after their tour bus was hit by a trucker on Highway 35 while they were en route to their next concert in Houston. The Backstreet Boys had just finished performing here in San Antonio the night of the accident…”

 

“This is Kurt Loader from MTV News with an update on the ailing Backstreet Boys. Hospital spokespersons report that Howie Dorough is awake and alert and answering questions. He is expected to make a full recovery. The lives of Kevin Richardson and Nick Carter still hang in the balance however, and doctors are reluctant to predict their chances. A.J. McLean and Brian Littrell are no longer critical, but they have yet to regain consciousness. Needless to say, the remaining shows on the Backstreet Boys tour have been cancelled. Fans of the group everywhere have gathered together to offer their hopes and prayers…

   

*          *          *

 

Brian woke up several more times throughout the next day, and though he was still exhausted, he was able to remain awake for longer periods of time. His parents had tried to see him earlier, but he just couldn’t stand the way they looked at him. There was such sadness in them, and he was terrified to find out what it meant. He had made the connection earlier that he was probably not alone in the accident, although no one had mentioned anyone else to him. Something awful had happened, but he was not ready yet to ask what.

 

All he wanted was to remain in his own little realm of pain. He did not want to acknowledge the rest of the world. To do so would have meant even more suffering. His plan had worked so far, since he was only up for ten minutes or so at a time. It worked, that is, until that afternoon.

 

He happened to be awake when a nurse came in to take his blood pressure. She left the door open, and he could hear the radio playing softly outside. All of the sudden he heard a few familiar chords, and then Nick’s voice filled the speaker.

 

I don’t know what he does to make you cry…

 

Brian gasped, and covered his face with his hands. “Oh my God, Oh my God,” he began to sob. Somewhere deep in his memory, an image came to his head.

 

As far as I’m concerned you can just go straight to hell and not come back.

 

“What? What is it?” the nurse asked, alarmed. Brian just shook his head, and continued to cry, his frail body shaking from the enormity of his sobs.

 

She darted out of the room and called for a doctor. “Dr. Westin! He’s doing it again!” she said urgently. Westin came rushing over.

 

“Brian?” he asked gently. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Th-the radio...the radio… Oh God, what happened to my friends? Nick. What happened to my friends…”

 

Westin sighed. “I was waiting for this. I wasn’t going to tell you anything until you were ready to ask.”

 

*          *          *

 

After a few hours more sleep, Brian woke up again. He felt even more drained than before, and his heart was filled with despair. His own cousin, and his best friend in the world were fighting a losing battle for their lives. He was terrified that not only might he lose one, but he might lose them both. It was something he could never bring himself to face.

 

The nurse asked him if he wanted to see his parents. Brian shook his head. He couldn’t do it. He wanted their company and knew he needed their support, but he simply couldn’t do it. He knew he was hurting them by saying no, but the only thing that seemed safe to him was sleep, so that was what he chose.

 

The next time he woke, it was to the voice of one of the orderlies.

 

“Brian?”

 

“Yes?” he mumbled, not willing to open his eyes.

 

“There’s someone here who wants to see you.”

 

“No,” he rasped. “I don’t want to see anybody.”

 

“I think this is someone you want to see.”

 

Brian slowly opened his eyes and focused on him. “Why?” he asked bitterly.

 

“Trust me on this one. Doctor’s orders. Besides, he’s very anxious to see you.”

 

“Fine.”

 

To his great surprise, Howie appeared in the doorway in a wheelchair.

 

*          *          *

 

What Howie saw was a pathetic sight. All of the life seemed to have gone out of his friend. His normally sparkling blue eyes were flat and dull, and his usually pleasant face was pale and drawn. He seemed even smaller than his 5’8” frame in the bed, with multiple IVs coming out of both arms and his hand. An oxygen mask was draped around his face. A nasty gash ran the length of his forehead, and Howie could see the dreadful cuts that covered his arms. They were similar to his own. Upon seeing Howie, a flicker of life fluttered behind his eyes, but it passed quickly.

 

“Howie,” Brian murmured. The orderly placed his wheelchair next to Brian’s bed and then left them alone. For a moment they said nothing, and then Howie reached out his good hand. Brian clasped it tightly, and the tears spilled over. Howie thought his cry earlier had helped him, but he was wrong. The two broke down together, and eased each other’s pain although neither said a word.

 

“I’m so glad you are ok,” Howie managed to say after a long while.

 

Brian nodded. “They told me about the others,” Brian said dully. “About Nick…”

 

“I know man, I know,” Howie said, feeling the sting at the corner of his eyes yet again. “The only other one they’ve let me see is A.J., and that’s because they needed me to calm his down. He kinda flipped out.”

 

“A.J.” Brian whispered. “Is he going to be all right?”

 

“I think so,” Howie answered. “They are going to put us in a room together, for his sake. He didn’t react very well to the world when he woke up. They want me to be there when he wakes up again. They say he probably will in another hour or so.” Howie was rambling, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was killing him to see Brian like this.

 

“What are we going to do?” Brian asked. The emptiness in his eyes had been replaced with incredible pain and suffering. Howie almost wished for them to be blank as they were before.

 

“Pray,” was all Howie could think of. That seemed to comfort him, and the two joined hands and prayed. At that moment, it was all they had.

 

***

 

 

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