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| Subject: Silence Repost For A Friend~Parts 1-2 | |
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Author: Kira |
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Date Posted: 20:47:43 03/19/02 Tue The house was silent, eerily so. Everything was tucked in its place. The extravagant rugs and expensive carpets were vacuumed. The tea roses that blessed every room with a thick, lovely aroma were at full-bloom, despite the darkness. A lavish feast sat, uneaten, its purpose unfulfilled, in the large stainless steel refrigerator. The house was silent. And the lack of her giggles and playful squeals, drenched him overwhelming anger. The emotion coursed slowly through his veins, like the slow devastation of lava encroaching and eventually destroying. He lay, tangled in a mass of satin sheets, the softness of rose petals still lingering on her pillow and the sheets below. His lips were pursed in a thin line of trembling flesh and he licked them, too furious and scared to get up and face the glaring reality. Blue eyes narrowed into seething slits of cobalt as he gazed at the puppy. Her replacement. She had showered him with presents, guilty gifts, when her glaring ambition got in the way of their love. When she missed his birthday, he got an Escalade. When she had a photo shoot on their anniversary, he got tickets to the World Series. And now, a puppy. “Instead of her, I get a damn dog,” Justin seethed, his voice coiled through the silence like a devilish whisper. The tiny, chocolate lab whimpered fearfully at the sound of his voice and cuddled against itself, making him a ball of beautifully brown fur that glistened in the waning moonlight. Justin’s features softened ever-so-slightly and he winced. It wasn’t the puppy’s fault. It was HER fault. With a sigh, he stumbled from the large bed, stepping over the sensual trail of roses and kneeled down, picking up the trembling creature from its place on the floor. “You’re right. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t take it out on you…” Justin proclaimed, climbing back in the bed. The two-month old puppy in his arms. Justin placed the puppy on his chest and scratched her gently behind the ears. “You’re kind of sweet, huh? You don’t think she’s with another guy? Maybe? Nah…that’s stupid. She doesn’t have time to be with ME, how could she have time for someone else?” He paused and ran his fingers through his towhead curls. “How did she look when you saw her? Did she have the glow she gets when she’s working? Did she kiss your nose? I bet she did. You know, she kisses my nose…or she used to. But that was before. Before we came out of the heterosexually closet, so to speak. Now, reporters are at every turn…and she doesn’t. But before she always kissed my nose…” Justin’s voice broke off as he kissed her tiny dogs snout gently. Justin’s felt the pulsating anger slowly cool and his muscles relaxed as he talked to the puppy. It was a way to vent his frustrations and she gazed up at him with her big blue eyes that promised she was listening and she would help him if she could. And she did. The entire night he just talked, sang and even cried for his spirit was lost. He was afraid. Afraid of losing her, the only thing he loved as much as his passion for music, as life itself. But somehow everything had become an exhausting blur of events and work and his life moved to fast for his soul to process all the emotions until they swelled and bubbled within him. ** Justin fell out of bed, fully-clothed, with a sickening thud. He groaned piteously and laid sprawled about the carpet as he sluggishly drifted from the sweetness of sleep and into the colorless reality. Once he had sobered from his dreams, Justin glanced at his watch. He had overslept. He staggered to his feet and grumbled into the bathroom, limping on his knee that had painfully collided with the bed railing. He turned on the water, splashing the warmth across his face as his mind tumbled with the work he had yet to accomplish. As he dressed, Justin mentally rearranged his day. Calloused hands cupped another dwindling puddle of cool water and he splashed it across his face, running his fingers through his curls. Resting his forearms on the counter, Justin glanced upward into the mirror, disturbed by his own reflection. His features were weathered and worn, containing the lines of stress of a fifty-year old. His prominent nose was raw and red. His eyes were dull, framed by ugly brownish crescents of flesh marred by insomnia, their famed shimmer smothered by the constant haze of work and responsibilities that Justin had buried himself in because of her absence. Justin quickly dressed in a pair of loose jeans and a simple, but stylish shirt and went searching for Strawberry, his beloved puppy, who usually woke up him up with the sun. He grabbed a few strawberries (her favorite food) from the mini-fridge in his up-stairs office and whistled shrilly for the puppy, listening intently for the clinkering of the tiny bells he’d affixed to her collar. “Strawberry, come get your breakfast…” Justin cooed, moving slowly through the halls, drenching in lackluster light from the overcast morning. “If you got into my shoes again, I’m going to whoop your little doggie ass,” he explained calmly. Justin smiled lopsidedly, trotting into the guest room, dropping to his knees, Justin shimmied playfully under the bed. “I know you’re hiding in here, girl…I got your favorite food in the whole world and you need to eat up some Daddy can go get busy. It’s almost nine…” His eyes focused on the darkness under the bed and he shrugged when he didn’t find the her, luminescent blue eyes looming back at him playfully. Justin hopped to his feet and tumbled down the stairs, grabbing his wallet, keys and bag full of his ideas that had rapidly began to materialize in his off-time. “Strawberry!” Justin bellowed, his voice echoing off the ornate walls of his home. With a hurried glance at the clock, he dropped the handful of strawberries into the puppy bowl beside the refrigerator and refilled his water dish before darting towards the back hall. His sneakers crushed against a gritty surface scattered about the floor. Justin froze in mid-stride as his muscles froze painfully with his hand affixed on the doorknob. Blue eyes cloaked in fear hesitantly peered down at the shards of jagged glass covering the gray vinyl floor. At that moment, a wet, sinister breeze swirled about his face, chilling his cheeks. Turning his head, Justin dropped his bag and keys in a blur of desperation and unadulterated terror. The back window to the mudroom was completely broken and the cryptic dampness of the freshly falling rain dripped down the metal door, pooling onto the large rock that must have shattered the window. Strawberry was lying mere inches away from the rock, in a poor of wet glass. Her small body of rich, chocolate fur slick and stiff. With a strangled cry, Justin scooped her off the ground and cradled her against his warmth. The severity of the situation descending upon him with the force of a hurricane and his mind swelled with one concept. Someone was in the house. He had to get out. Still on his knees, Justin’s hands fumbled through the glass and he scooped up his keys, flying through the back door. He jumped into his car and back haphazardly out of the luxurious garage. His breath came in rapid explosions of terse air as he maneuvered through the streets with one hand embracing his kanine friend. “Strawberry…we’re gonna get you to Chris’ and he’ll…fix you…then you…can meet…Busta…” he panted, his voice panicked. Justin’s Escalade screeched shrilly in Chris’ driveway and he tore out of the car, flying through his front door, kicking the locked obstacle blindly. Justin nudged the unresponsive puppy in his arms and sucked in a painful hiss when she did not respond. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as Chris opened the door, phone glued to his ear. “Jesus, Justin….JC, get over here now…” Chris discarded the phone and pulled him inside. “What happened?” “…in…the…house…someone and she…wouldn’t answer me…I can’t…Chris,” he rasped, stumbling beside him. Chris nodded, his demeanor unchanging, beckoning him to calm down. Justin pushed the three month-old puppy in his arms and gazed down at him with pleading, glassy eyes. “Fix…her…” He took the puppy and was immediately concerned by the macabre cold that had enveloped her body. Upon closer glance, Chris discerned that Strawberry’s eyes were open and her tongue was pushed between her lips, dangling and dry. “Um, Justin…” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the dog. “She’s kind of cold.” Justin leaned against the wall, drawing strength from the presence of his older brother and closed his eyes. His hands clutched the fabric around his heart as if that would cease the painfully erratic beating. “Someone broke into the house…a fan, maybe.” His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his voice was quiet but thick. “They used a rock…I don’t know if it hit her or what, but you know more about dogs…and I couldn’t be in that house…” Chris affectionately bumped Justin’s shoulders as he concentrated on getting a response from the puppy. Ever-so gently, Chris worked his fingers into her mouth, trying to get her to breathe and was startled when they brushed against something foreign. His eyebrows furrowed and as his fingers tightened in the object, he pulled back, dislodging a soggy glob of what looked to be a letter out of her mouth. It was glaring obvious that she was dead and Chris imagined what might have happened. She must have trotted into the back hall after hearing the noise. Her ears inquisitively perked upwards, tail wagging and sniffed the letter. It could have flitted about from the breeze wafting through the broken window and she pounced on it excitedly, chewing on the letter and in her excitement, tried to swallow it and choked. Chris kissed the puppy’s head, closing her eyes and passed her back into Justin’s arms. Catching his anxious gaze, he closed his eyes. “Something was lodged…uh…in her…throat, Justin…she’s gone…” “What? Chris, please…tell me she’s not…” “I can’t, Justin. I would if I could. Believe me, I would. I know how much she meant to you…” Justin’s eyes clouded with tears and he slid down the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest, stroking the body in his arms. He cried. Harder than he ever knew possible. Strawberry had been his only companion for the past few months, bringing him short-lived, but blissful moments of joy. She was his heart, nibbling at his fingers and into his soul. Leaping in the bed, when she knew he was lonely. Licking his face when she knew he was exhausted from pushing himself too far. He managed to fool educated adults, his brothers, his family by plastering on a smile, grinning and preaching that he was fine, but Strawberry saw straight through him with her classic gaze of patience and wonderment for she had no expectations of him. As a role model or entertainer. She just saw him as a friend. The man that gave her strawberries and belly rubs; baths and chew toys. He cried. To emotionally exhausted to put up with the charade of contentment. He cried. To worn to do anything else. He cried. To scared to move or think or breathe. “Justin?” a watery blur of Chris appeared in front of him, working his arms around Strawberry’s body. “I’m going to take her now, okay?” Justin shook his head. “…no…” his grip tightened. “Yes, it’s okay…it’s okay…” “NO.” He clung to her as if she was his sanity. “…yes,” he answered gently. Chris pried his fingers away, removed her brass color with jingle bells fastened to each side of her nameplate and handed it to him before disappearing. Chris soon returned and sat down beside him, allowing Justin to drench his shoulder with his frustrations and fear. He stroked his curls, held his hand, leaned against him to show him that he wasn’t alone. The two men sat in the hallway of Chris’ lavish foyer, the sounds of tear-drenched misery rising and echoing on the vaulted ceiling. His tortured weeping continued and Justin struggled to regain his breath. But his chest tightened tautly with every gasp, truncating each inhalation. His efforts to regain some semblance of composure were futile. Chris grew concern as the more time passed and he squeezed Justin’s hand firmly before moving in front of him, gathering his face in his hands. “Justin…Justin, look me. You need to calm down, okay? You’re kind of scaring me here…” Justin forced his lips together, keeping his mouth closed, trying to follow Chris’ orders. But the gate to the tomb of his buried emotions had been opened and wouldn’t be stifled again. Justin began to tremble and his lungs began to burn. Deep, garbled sobs rumbled within him and coerced his lips open and the rhythm of harsh breathing continued. “…can’t…” “You can’t what, Justin? Just take a deep breath. It’s easy…just in and out…” “Can’t…” he croaked as forcefully as he could. “Oh, God. Sorry…just one second, you stay there…” Chris shot up, skidding in socked feet into his powder room. Grabbing a purple washcloth from the towel rack, he soaked it in cool water and returned to Justin’s side. He pushed Justin’s head back and unbuttoned his shirt, pushing the folds of the collar apart, hopefully making it easier for him to breathe. Pushing his head forward, Chris placed the cool cloth on the back of his head, drenching the baby file curls that lined his scalp. Chris rubbed his back tenderly, encouraging him to let it out. JC blew into the house, his chiseled features plagued with fiery worry. He saw Justin crumpled against the wall, his head between his knees, drawing in shaky, shallowed breaths and Chris sitting Indian style in front of him, clutching his hand. “God…what happened?” Chris threw JC an intense gaze that caused his worry to increase tenfold. He knelt down beside Justin, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “What happened, Baby J?” “…I’m not going back to that house, Josh, don’t make me go…” JC nodded, his back tensing with the mounting need for knowledge. He ran his hands along Justin’s shoulders and back in a silent, cursory exam to make sure he hadn’t been hurt. Justin closed his eyes and focused on the presence of his brothers. He almost felt their protective natures rising into the darkness of the house and drew in a shuttering yet deep breath. “Uh…someone…broke in…or tried to…there was lots of glass…and Strawberry, she was just…laying there…” “Oh, it’s okay…your big brothers’ got your back,” Chris placated with a smile. JC gave Justin a tender embrace that brought him solace. “I’m all over this, Justin. I’ll take care of everything…” “Really?” he tipped his head upwards and swimming blue eyes peered helplessly into his. It was simple to forget that Justin, someone who dealt with the pressure of the entire world, was barely twenty years old. He had a confident stride, convincing smile and the maturity of a dignitary, but that was a carefully crafted façade and it acted was to shield him from the rumors, the media and the infinite sea of faces that gave him a form of love that was so intricately oppressive to understand, let alone return. JC saw the same, scared fourteen year-old he’d met lifetimes ago and naturally began to protect. “Yeah, man, I promise.” Chris removed the cool cloth and tossed it in the bathroom. “You’re going upstairs now…get changed and lay down, get some rest,” he exclaimed. Justin sniffed and regarded the belled collar in his hands. He ran the pad of his fingertips over the nameplate and sighed. “What are you going to do with the…with her, body?” “I’ll figure that out. You just go upstairs and rest. I’m serious, Justin.” JC and Chris helped him to his feet and up the stairs. They sat on the bed while he showered and blew his nose, their hands clasped idly, minds drenched in thought. Their eyes darting about the room, daring a nightmarish beast to emerge from the shadows. They stood up when Justin shuffled out of the bathroom and tucked him in bed, lingering in the hall into they were sure he was asleep. When Justin burrowed deeper in the bed, shoving his hands under the pillow, his face pushed into the maroon pillowcase, they knew he was asleep and crept downstairs to tie up the menacing loose ends. The police were notified. JC drove over to Justin’s house and met them to survey the damage. The soggy letter that caused Strawberry’s demise was filed as evidence. Justin’s statement would be taken the next morning. And his house was inspected for missing items. It was unlikely that the perpetrators would ever be caught. But the young man was forever shaken… Copyright © Kira, 2001. ** Lance eased into Chris’ house, his face tight with anger, but laced with concern. He carried four grande coffee drinks and warm muffins. Setting the beverages on the marble kitchen counter, he waved his hand, wordlessly inviting an exhausted JC and Chris to take whatever they wanted. “Where is he?” he asked, his forehead creasing in sadness. JC ran his hands over his face and gratefully sipped in coffee. He and Chris had been up the entire night, too tense and preoccupied to sleep. “Upstairs…” “Is he sleeping?” “No, Ira is checking him out.” “You mean, Doctor Ira from our tour?!” Lance’s eyes flared. “What’s wrong?” he gasped. “Justin had a panic attack last night and came damn close to another this morning, we’re just making sure he’s okay. Ira is the only doctor he trusts,” Chris explained, nibbling on his muffin, his face teased with disgust. Lance glanced in the direction of the stairs and his shoulders dropped sluggishly. “Can I go up?” “If you want,” Chris discarded his muffin. “I’m going to take a shower. I’m sure I’m offending my company with my funk.” “Thank you, Martha Stewart,” JC managed before yawning. Lance followed Chris upstairs and entered one of the many spare bedrooms, where Justin was sprawled across the bed, pale and clutching the bedsheets. He noticed Lance leaning against the wall and the corners of his mouth twitched into an instantaneous smile as Ira listened to his chest. “Almost done, Justin,” Ira, a man with rich, dark features and a premature gray streak piercing his slick black hair, explained. Justin nodded absently as Ira looked in his ears, nose, down his throat and eyes. “I’m just going to take your blood pressure and the prodding will stop.” “Okay.” Ira fastened the cuff around Justin’s upper arm and pumped it up, tightening it around the biceps. With trained preciseness, he listened for the vital heart beats and recorded each number. His face crumpled with disgust as he repeated the process over once more. When he finished, Ira regarded the younger man with a paternal sternness. “You know what I’m going to tell you, don’t you?” Justin feigned confusion. “You’re just here for Chris’ benefit. So, no, I don’t know.” “Well, smartass, I’ll tell you. You’re blood pressure is higher than the national debt, you’re pulse is rapid and you look like hell. Justin, this is supposed to be your VACATION, what on earth have you been doing because this doesn’t just happen over night.” Justin sank deeper into the pillows, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Just working on the club and my charity and sometimes I call the radio stations, just to keep us out there, so we’re not gone for MONTHS, you know? And uh, I help Chris with FuMan and have been looking into some acting parts…” Ira draped his stethoscope around his neck and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What’s going on, huh?” he squeezed Justin’s knee. “I know you and you don’t do this, you don’t work this much during a break.” Justin paled, regarding Lance, who simply glowered back. “Uh…nothing…the whole…breaking in thing was…it just scared me…and I’ll be…fine…” he voice cracked and Justin cursed his flooding eyes and looking down as he picked a loose thread in his tee shirt. “Everything is gonna be fine…really soon…” he whispered wistfully. Ira rubbed Justin’s shoulder. “This is what you’re GOING to do. You are going to have a nice long talk with your boys here. Judging by the death glare that Lance is sending you, you haven’t been. Then, you are going to come into my office tomorrow afternoon and I will check you out officially and we’ll go from there.” “But I don’t…” “No buts,” Ira replied sternly. “None, Justin. They won’t hold water with me at all.” “Ira, man, I just got freaked out. I’m okay…really.” He gazed at the older man, his blue eyes widening innocently. Ira shook his head and Justin’s shoulder’s dropped and he nodded, tugging at the string on his shirt, and watched the intricate weavings disintegrate into a broken seam. His lashes met on their own accord and he dropped his head back onto the pillows. Ira slipped out of the room, unnoticed and Lance sat down quietly in his place, rubbing his shin. “I heard about last night.” “Figures,” Justin grumbled. “Nothing was taken?” “Nope.” “That’s good, huh?” “I guess so. My dog died. Choked on a letter that they left.” “I heard about that too. I’m sorry.” “Chris buried her in the backyard…put flowers down and everything. God, if it was someone else’s dog, I’d be laughing my ass off,” Justin smiled. “Dude, you should see it, he bought all these flowers and spent most of the morning, lining her gave in them.” Lance chuckled timidly. “He’s just being respectful. Imagine what he’d do for Busta.” Justin cringed, his eyes remained closed. “I don’t think I want to. God, he’s like have a real WAKE and everyone would have to say the best things about Busta. I think he’d actually cry. And I’ve never seen him cry…” “Yeah.” Justin shivered and reached for the blankets. Lance immediately sprang up and pulled them into his hands, smoothing out the linens before sitting down again. “Justin, are you okay? I mean, Ira was pissed and…” “Lance,” the younger man interjected. “I’m…just going through stuff right now. I’m fine, really.” “You’re working too hard, Justin. I’ve been kinda watching you and you’re falling into the pattern that I fell in and I really don’t want to see you get hurt or…” Justin smiled, genuinely and patted Lance’s hand. “I’m fine.” Something flickered in Justin’s eyes…bluish pain that was begging to be revealed. Lance shivered. The words sounded so completely sincere, but Lance knew not to believe him. ** The house was quiet, oppressively so. It was suffocating silence that caused him to toss and turn, from one side to another. The seconds dragged by like molasses in the dead of winter. The air seemed thick, making it difficult to breathe. Justin had been awake for hours and had abandoned the concept of sleep entirely. He had turned on the television and watched “Pretty Woman” and “Picture Perfect.” He had sang to himself quiet lullabies. He had counted to 1,654. He had done everything to avoid his churning mind, but it was unavoidable. Messages had been left for him and they went unanswered. The news had got wind of the break in, even Strawberry’s death and she had yet to call to make sure he was okay. He wasn’t. The façade he’d created was weakening and the thought of losing control was petrifying. But everything had spiraled in infinite directions and Justin didn’t know which one to follow or even his destination. He only knew that he was lost. With sluggish movements, he climbed out of the bed in Chris’ spare bedroom and plodded down the halls. The thick moonlight washed in the overhead skylight covering the palatial foyer in a haze of celestial iridescence. Justin found himself weak and a bit lightheaded after the turbulent days and he leaned against the wall, creeping woodenly to where JC and Lance’s were sharing a room for the night. Justin needed to get everything off his chest. He now understood that he needed his family to help make sense of the emotions he was feeling, the anger that was building towards his fame and even the music that drove him into the spotlight. It was time to delve into the hurt, instead of pushing it away to fester and grow into something unimaginably frightening. When he reached the door, Justin was shocked to see light escaping from underneath and soft voices whispering. He knocked hesitantly on the doorknob, wiping the cold sweat from his upper lip. JC opened the door, his eyes tired, curls strewn about his head and his eyes were red from rubbing them nervously. “What are you doing up?” “Couldn’t sleep.” “How you feeling?” Lance asked, his eyes furrowed deeply in concern. Justin struggled to clear his throat and rubbed his blurring eyes with the palm of his hands. “Not too good…” JC stepped aside, allowing him to enter the room and regarded his little brother with a careful eye. Something wasn’t right. Stumbling over his bare feet, Justin headed into the room, squinting at the bright lights. “Y’all gonna be up for awhile?” he questioned with a languished smile. “Only if you’re gonna talk…” Lance said encouragingly. Justin cracked his knuckles and nodded hesitantly. Tugging at the collar of his shirt, Justin leaned against the bureau, crafted of cheery wood. “I’m just lost, you know…I lost her and Strawberry and…and…” his head swelled with the enormity of his words, and a warm, buzzing emerged from behind his eyes. Justin’s world began to swim as his voice died on his lips. He drew in a breath, blinking repeatedly. Lance pushed past JC just as Justin’s eyes lost focus and rubbery knees began to wobble. Even in unconsciousness, Justin had managed to flit gracefully to the floor, landing in a flutter of arms and legs that bounced buoyantly against the slate blue carpeting. The blood rushed through JC’s ears, like white rapids churning swiftly through tumultuous rivers and he was frozen, his eyes locked to the Lance’s bending over Justin’s body. “Justin?” Lance’s squeaked, his tone octaves higher than it had ever been. He slipped his hand in Justin’s limp one, squeezing with measured pressure. “Justin, don’t do this to me…” Lance dropped his head to his chest and was pleased to hear a strong steady heartbeat. With a fluttering gasp, he began to shake the younger man, pleading for a conscious response. “C’mon, Justin…” Turning to an ashen, terrified JC, Lance punched his lower thigh to catch the frenchman’s wide, blue eyes. “Get Ira…or an ambulance…” JC mechanically turned from the room and darted for help. Lance cradled Justin’s form, rocking back and forth, pausing every few seconds to pat his cheeks forcefully. “You’re sweating…” he breathed out, wiping the moisture from Justin’s forehead with delicate strokes of his fingertips. “What’s wrong, huh?” he shook the body. “Just tell me, wake up and tell me…because we can’t do anything if you’re silent. We can’t help you…and we’re supposed to…Justin, it’s our job, to protect you. Now, if you just wake up, we’ll do it better. All of us. We will,” Lance sobbed, he bent down, letting his forehead rest on Justin’s and the panicked swaying began again. “We’ll help you, okay. I got you. I got you. You’re okay…we won’t let you fool us again…I promise…” Lance stilled, closed his eyes waiting for any kind of response. The house was quiet, oppressively so… [ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ] |
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