Death #1:
Why You Shouldn’t Wash Your Hands In The Bathroom
By Rose
No one had
seen it coming. How could it be predicted? The 2011 Backstreet Boys Cruise had started
off with a bang. A boat load of energized Backstreet Boys fans all on one
cruise with no way out. But Nick wasn’t too worried, they had security. The
fans knew control, like last year hadn’t been too crazy. At least, not as crazy
as he had predicted then.
As the fans dined, Nick tried to slip out of the
dining room unnoticed. They were all too busy eating and chatting to notice him
right? A chorus of screams followed and he glanced back to see Brian and AJ
dancing on the floor as music began to play. He smirked. There, now the fans
even had a distraction to keep him busy.
Nick didn’t tell his security man for the night,
Josh, where he was going. He wanted peace and quiet. And besides, so far no one
had noticed him anyway. If only he’d taken a glance back. If only he thought
ahead. That fatal decision would never had been made. He kept himself steady as
the boat rocked a bit, and walked into the bathroom. The ones on the ship were
tiny, too tiny, for comfort.
He sighed, just enjoying the time to himself as he
did his business.
As he went to wash his hands, Nick never heard the
door open. All he heard were the screams. Fans bombarded the bathroom, coming
in as a stampede. There were so many girls, too many for the tiny bathroom. He
swiftly turned, backing away as they ran at him. Water spilled onto the floor.
It was as if fate had set this up as a cruel joke. How could he forget that
this had almost happened last year? That fans just didn’t know boundaries.
Those were the last thoughts he ever had.
His foot slid, and down he fell. To Nick, it was
like it all happened in slowly motion, rather than instantaneously. He could
see it happening before it actually did. He threw his hands out to try and
brace himself but to no avail. His head slammed against one of the urinals.
Bone cracked, shattered immediately.
Darkness.
Nick Carter was gone.
The white porcelain was soon tainted by a deep
red. His eyes were wide open as he slid to the floor. A streak of crimson ran
down along the wall. A pool of blood grew as the fans closed in on him. They
grabbed at his unknowing corpse, their squeals never ceasing. Clothes were torn
off by those who claimed to love them. Their fanaticism only grew – completely
oblivious to the fact their beloved idol was dead.
***