“Mr. Dorough? Excuse me, Sir. We really need you to cooperate at the moment. The more you cooperate, the sooner you can get out of here.”
Howie Dorough blanked for several moments, just staring out at the ocean where large pieces of wreckage were tossing about the heavy waters. The officer’s words just lurked within the depressing heat and salt of the Floridian air, stinging sharply against the cut along his cheek. As much as he wanted to pour his soul to the facts of the horrendous accident, his tongue was thick with regret. The sky was mixing with the beautiful hues of nature’s glorious palate, signaling the end of an old day and possibly an old life. His large brown eyes widened in further disbelief as he ran his battered hands down his aching face. His entire body tensed with anxiety, feeling as if every muscle fiber might actually snap from the unbearable pressure. His heart hammered like a wild beast running across the desert plains, ready to fly into the thin air for any means of escape. A cool sweat broke out along his chilled body, mixing another salty sting to his various cuts. He was just unable to believe how he had just possibly escaped a near death experience. Only, others hadn’t been so fortunate.
“Please, Mr. Dorough?”
“Are they going to die?” Howie questioned blankly, turning his attention back to the two bloody gurneys being loaded into opposite ambulances. Within the soaked sheets mixed with a splatter of red lay two mysterious women. Neither was responsive to anything the paramedics were hollering around their battered forms, but the copious amounts of blood tainting each victim would keep Howie from receiving any form of good night’s rest for many years to come.
“I don’t know—”
“Are they going to die?” Howie repeated, unable to focus on anything further. His mind would not be eased by the fact that he had dove into the deep seawaters from the unharmed speedboat when the women’s boat had been obliterated by the boys’ grand fortunes. He had grabbed the first body submersed beneath the heavy wreckage, tugging her to safety. She had been deadweight in his arms, but Howie was assured she had some kind of feisty life in her soul. Now, she and her friend were just the wreckage behind Nick’s foolish behaviors. He just shouldn’t have been steering the expensive boat after those two beers. His blood may have been under the legal limit for the state of Florida, but not for his already tampered judgment...
“Mr. Dorough, the women are in the very best of hands right now. We’re getting them to the hospital as fast as physically possible. Now, please, can you tell me what happened?”
“No—”
“Officer, our friend was driving our boat and didn’t really see the women in their boat until the last minute. He attempted to swerve to miss the boat, but it was too late. We did our best to get the women to safety as fast as possible and then called for help... It was the best we could do at the moment…” Kevin Richardson, Howie’s companion and band-mate, interjected. He had quickly stepped to intervene, noticing Howie struggling to figure out which facts to present.
“Our friend? There are only two of you…”
“Nick Carter, Sir. He sustained some injuries and our other friends, Brian Littrell and Alexander McLean, rushed him to the nearest hospital. We couldn’t wait for the ambulances to arrive. He was such a wreck from the accident. He needed to get away. But, you have our numbers and information in case you need us for any other circumstances. So, are we done?”
“I suppose so…”
“Thank you,” Kevin quickly answered, grasping Howie underneath the arm. With a large jerk, Kevin moved Howie away from the accident scene and toward their car. Kevin was placid about the entire situation; his face seemed to be engraved in the toughest of stone compared to Howie’s trembling form. It was as if he had dealt with this type of situation before. His dark emerald eyes were clouded with fury, though Howie didn’t know if it was because of the accident or his inability to answer the questions that the authorities had been firing.
“You lied to the officer, Kev,” Howie finally spoke, collapsing against the side of their vehicle. He unconsciously ran his hands through his dark, unruly curls in attempts to calm himself, but it seemed like a waste. Even at thirty-one years of age with a fantastic career as a leading musician with large massive of popularity spurting from every country across the world, Howie really didn’t know how to handle the situation. For that moment, he just wanted to curl into his mother’s arms for the ultimate protection from the nightmare.
“What did you want me to say, Howie? That Nick was plastered beyond belief and refused to let any of us drive his expensive boat? We screamed for him to turn the boat around, but he insisted no one was there. Then, collided with another boat, probably killing those two women?” Kevin fired in a harsh whisper, unable to believe Howie’s stupidity. Their careers and futures were on the line the second Nick’s expensive boat collided with the girls’ boat, blowing them from the wreckage like they were insignificant pieces of paper floating with the dark winds of devastation. And, for once, Kevin was thinking about himself. He had worked too hard and couldn’t afford to find a new career at thirty-three years of age, especially when he had fallen in love with the music career.
“No—”
“Do you have any idea what that would do to our reputation? Especially when we have a new album being released in a few short weeks? God, Howie, think about it! Our entire career could be blown to bits if the media gets hold of this nightmare. We’ll be the Blundering Backstreet Boys! Nick could get thrown into jail for drinking! We’re damn lucky that AJ and Brian managed to get him home before anyone came to the scene.”
“Kevin—”
“We’ve got to protect our own, Howie.”
“But I didn’t even know their names…”
“Savannah? Savannah Lorden?”
“I’m decent if that’s what you’re asking,” Savannah mumbled from her hazy slumber of medicated morphine. Slowly, she parted her beautiful jade eyes that caused an outpouring of pain to flow from the follicles of her honey blonde curls to the very tips of her bruised toes. Her eyes were blurry with unshed tears, though she managed to see the dimmest outline of a muscular man standing at the side of her hospital bed. She blinked rapidly to clear the tears, not wanting to startle him into pity. Carefully, she brought a trembling hand to her cheeks to wipe away the wetness, only wincing when she hit the tender bandage covering a severe laceration across her right cheek. It seemed truly impossible that she could move without intensifying the pain radiating from every portion of her battered body. The doctors continued to stress the gravity of her condition, saying that she must rest and not move an inch otherwise face permanent paralysis. Though, half the medical terms slipped around her head like a film of evaporating fog. She hadn’t the patience to sit through their speeches, nor the ability not to concentrate on the severity of her pain. Though, despite her grave condition, she still managed to be quirky with a warm sense of humor that many loved to observe.
“How are you feeling, Ma’am?”
“Like I got hit by a huge speedboat,” she stated plainly, shifting against the air mattress only to muffle a whimper of pain. Within a second, her entire body tensed to alleviate the pain, causing her to sink deeper into the pillows and mattress. It seemed as if the doctors were hell-bent on torturing her. As if being in a significant accident wasn’t enough for God, He had to punish her further.
“Should I come back at another time?”
“No, who are you?”
“Jordan Fitz, I’m one of the managers for the Backstreet Boys—”
“Well, it’s so nice to see that you care about their line-up of dancers for the next tour—”
The man looked thoroughly baffled. “Excuse me?”
“I was set to audition for the new concert as a backup dancer. My instructor spoke with Fatima and was very excited, because Fatima adored my work and was excited to mold me to her specifications. Y’know, until my entire right leg was shattered by a little bump in the water—”
“I… Miss Lorden, I didn’t…”
“Then you’re really here about the whole boating accident thing?”
“Yes…”
“What do you want to say about it, then?” Savannah questioned openly, leaving no room for trivial thoughts. Her mind may have been clouded by the morphine, but she lived that devastation every day in the pitiful Intensive Care Unit of the local hospital. She had just hoped to spend a relaxing day on the beach with her best friend, Rhiannon Clark. They wanted to get away from the stressors of their lives, until they heard the distant shouts of men from a speeding boat. Savannah closed her eyes from the memory to see the dangerous collision. She still heard the sound of the metal crunching and Rhiannon’s shrill scream as she was propelled several feet away from the accident. Savannah then remembered being plunged into the iciest water as something sharp smashed against the side of her face. It was an explosive pain that led to a long darkness only to be roused in the distant hospital with a list of injuries.
“The boys would like to apologize—”
“For their idiotic behavior that pretty much ruined our lives?” Savannah interjected, letting her sharp tongue slip from its bed. She felt the anger pulsate through her veins, aggravating the pain surging through her broken body. She attempted to press the button for more morphine to be released into her IV, but she was shaking too fiercely. “Do you have any idea what they did to us? My entire right leg was practically crushed from the boat pinning against me. I’m stuck in this traction until my surgery, which can’t be done until I get a nice boost of antibiotics to cut the chance of infection in my leg. I also dislocated my shoulder, which needs repaired. Not to mention the severe cuts all over my body that needed to be sutured. I’m a dancer, Mr. Fitz. Do you have any idea how much physical therapy I’m going to need just to get back to half of what I once was?”
“Miss Lorden—”
“And Ann. My poor Ann suffered a massive blow to her head. She was knocked completely unconscious and started drowning in the water. She developed pneumonia and barely stays away to say three words. And, I’d love to mention the severe burn along her shoulder from God knows what—”
“I don’t—”
“My mother was a nurse, trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“That’s not—”
“They weren’t even hurt we’re they?”
“No, they were lucky—”
“Bullshit! I’d let you get the second set of facts from my friend, but she’s currently being run through a CT Scan to make sure there isn’t any permanent brain damage.”
“Ma’am—”
“I don’t want their apologies. They can burn in Hell for all I care.”
