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Chapter 33


AN: Thanks to Mary for the idea for this entire chapter!


A cry of surprise escaped his throat as he stumbled. His arms flailed wildly in front of him as he tumbled forward, desperately reaching for something to break his fall. His fingertips felt nothing but air, then liquid, as he landed with a splash, his body striking something hard beneath a layer of water.

In the distance, he could hear laughter. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Grunting in pain and discomfort, he lay flat for a moment, feeling the cold liquid rapidly soak his clothes and seep into his skin.

He lifted his head just in time to catch something small and black skirt past him out of the corner of his eye. Flinching, he reached his hands out and, planting his palms firmly against the hard surface beneath him, used them to push himself up. He rose awkwardly out of the water, his water-laden shirt weighing him down, and struggled to find his balance on one knee.

Then he looked down… and let out a yelp of fear. Instantly, he scrambled backwards, out of the water. He toppled over onto the hard pavement and felt the skin being scraped from his elbow. He hardly felt the pain though, too concerned with pulling himself off of the ground. He climbed back to his knee and peered down at the large puddle into which he had fallen, his eyes bugging with horror.

“1, 2… 3, 4, 5…” he began to count them, his eyes flicking every which way, as more of them rose from the swirling depths to float atop the muddy water, their stingers arched dangerously over their backs. “6, 7, 8…” He shook his head, his body trembling as he looked on, awestruck. “9… 10, 11… 12… 13.”

He waited a moment, but no more came. “Thirteen,” he repeated.

Thirteen scorpions.

The puddle was filled with them, floating lazily on the surface of the dirty water. Narrowing his eyes vigilantly, he could make out smaller creatures darting and wriggling through the swirls of upset mud. Worms, he thought at first. Then one crawled out of the puddle and started to work its way across the faded gray pavement.

No… centipedes, he realized, drawing back in disgust. He dragged himself out of the way, the hard street skinning his knee as he struggled to move. Even once he was a safe distance from the puddle, which was still teaming with scorpions and centipedes, he could feel them crawling on his skin. A shudder ran through his entire body, and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the sensation. But it only increased, a light pinching feeling on his stomach turning sharp and painful. His eyes flying open, he yanked up his shirt and let out a shout.

A leech… clinging to his skin…

He tore it off quickly, his skin stinging where it had been attached, his fingertips slimy from touching it. He shuddered again, wiping them on his wet, muddy shirt.

Desperate to get away from this place, he looked around, searching for his crutches. He spotted them lying a few feet away and dragged himself toward them. Gratefully wrapping his fingers around the cold metal, he used one crutch to boost him off the ground, then bent down to retrieve the other. He adjusted them under his arms and then looked up. Where was he?

He was on a road, he realized, a long stretch of road that went on as far as the eye could see, eventually melting into the horizon. He turned and saw that it was the same on the other side, a vast nothingness divided only by this solitary road. Only here, there were people. Lots of people, lined on both sides. Maybe they could tell him which direction to go.

Gripping the handles of his crutches, he hobbled toward them, carefully avoiding the infested puddle he had fallen into earlier.

“Hey!” he called to the cluster of people ahead. “Can you help me?”

All eyes turned to him, but no one responded. Instead, they just stared, the loathing expressions on their faces becoming clearer as he neared them.

He felt his heartbeat quicken and his palms begin to sweat. Tightening his grip on the crutches, he hesitantly boosted himself forward, searching the crowd for a friendly face. “P-please,” he stammered unsurely, “I don’t know where I am. Can someone help me?”

But they only stared.

He quickened his pace, eager to get past them. Someone down the line would help him… they had to!

As he passed the strangers by, he saw their heads turn out of the corners of his eyes. And then he heard their whispers.


“Look…”

Look…”

“Look at him…”

“Look…”

“Just look at him…”


Their voices seemed to echo all around him, a neverending chorus that gradually crescendoed as the words took form.


“He’s disgusting…”

“I can’t even look at him…”

“He used to be so hot…”

“And now he’s a freak…”

“A freak…”


“Stop,” he pleaded in a whisper, wishing he could cover his ears. “Please,” his voice rose, “please stop!”

Desperate to get away, he hurried along at a frantic pace, trying to tune out the hiss of their hurtful words. The anonymous faces began to blend together as he hauled himself along, his arms aching. And then, up ahead of him, one face jumped out at him through the crowd. A familiar face, one he had known for twenty-five years…

“Mom?”

Flooded with relief at the sight of someone he knew, he veered in her direction. She would help him; she would get him out of there and take him home.

Her eyes followed him as he approached, never blinking, never straying from his lopsided form as he struggled toward her.

“Mom,” he gasped breathlessly. “Mom, I-“

“What have you done to yourself, Nicky?” Jane asked, her voice stony and hushed. She shook her head solemnly, her mouth pressed into a firm line. “What have you done?”

“What? What do you mean?” Nick cried, his voice shrill in his ears. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve ruined yourself,” she said. “You’re ruined.”

Hot tears sprung to his eyes. Blinking rapidly, he ducked his head and turned away, hobbling on down the road, the eyes still following him. The sea of faces seemed endless, but every now and then, he would recognize a face. But never a friendly one.

Leah. “You think I want you now, Nick? Think again. No one will ever want you now.”

Lou Pearlman. “You’ve really lost it, haven’t you, Nick? What a shame… what a shame…”

He turned away, his face hot, his eyes stinging.

He couldn’t go on. He couldn’t take another step. He couldn’t take anymore of this.

Stopping, he let his crutches fall and sank to the hard, cold ground, tucking his leg beneath him. “Please,” he moaned, bowing his head and pressing his hands firmly against his ears as the chorus of voices continued their hateful chants. “Please stop…”

Above the muted chanting, one voice rang out clearly. “Nick!”

“Leave me alone,” he pleaded, closing his eyes.

“Nick! Open your eyes, Nick!”

“Nick!”

His eyes flew open and immediately focused on Claire’s face, which was hovering over him, her eyes wide with panic.

“Nick… are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” he murmured, realizing he was in his own bed. “I just had a dream… a nightmare…”

“I heard something. Something loud – like a crash. Did you hear it?”

“Huh? A crash?”

“It sounded like it was coming from the front hall,” Claire continued, her voice hushed. “What if someone broke in?”

“No, no, that’s impossible,” he muttered, still trying to clear his head of the images from his dream. “The security alarm… we’d know.”

“But I heard some-“ she started and then froze, her body tensing visibly.

“What-?” he started to ask, but she shoved her hand over his mouth, silencing him.

“Shh… listen,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Can you hear that?”

He listened, straining his ears. And then, he heard it. Muffled sounds… shuffling… footsteps?

“I’m gonna go check it out,” Claire said suddenly, dropping her hand from his mouth and rolling off her side of the bed.

“Claire, wait!” Nick hissed, but she held up a finger, shushing him, and went ahead anyway, slowly and silently easing the bedroom door open before he could stop her. “Are you insane?!” he mouthed after her, scrambling out of bed. He grabbed his crutches, tucked them quickly under his arms, and took off after her, nimbly thrusting himself forward.

Then he heard her scream.

It was a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream, the kind you only heard in a horror movie, and it caused his heart to skip a beat. Instantly, he froze, unable to move, unable to even breathe.

He’d never heard her make a sound like that before.

His whole body began to shake, and his knee buckled. If it had not been for the crutches he clung to, white-knuckled, he would have collapsed. For a second, he almost did, his weight hanging solely on the crutches, which wobbled beneath him, threatening to fly out from under him. Finally, he regained his senses and steadied himself, letting out the breath he’d been holding in a great whoosh.

She needs me, was the only thing he could think. I have to get to her.

Not even considering the horrors might be awaiting him, he flung his crutches forward and swung his body after, moving as fast as he could to get to her. He pushed his way through the bedroom door and toward the front hall. And there, he froze again, stricken by the sight with which he was met.

A man, clothed in solid black, stood in the corner of the hall, near the front door, his thick arm around Claire’s neck. Something gleamed near her ear, and he realized it was the tip of a large knife. The blade was against the side of her neck.

“Don’t move, or I’ll cut her throat,” the intruder threatened in a gruff, menacing voice.

Nick wasn’t sure he could have moved if he’d wanted to. Terror coursed through his veins faster than the blood pumped by his racing heart, which pounded erratically against his ribcage. His eyes locked with Claire’s, which were filled with utter dread. His mouth opened, but no words came out. She, however, suddenly let out a shriek.

“Nick, watch out!!”

Out of nowhere, another dark-clad figure darted forward, catching Nick off-guard. In an instant, he was hurtling to the side, his hold on his crutches gone. He hit the wall and slid down it, ending up in a heap on the cold, tiled floor. Just as quickly, he boosted himself back up to his one knee and tried to stand, but the second man was right there. He saw a glint of metal, something large and long, but before he had time to register or react, the object came smacking into his stomach, delivering him a crushing blow. He collapsed again, his head hitting the wall as he fell backward, clutching his middle in agony.

For a few seconds, he writhed on the floor, momentarily debilitated. Through the sound of blood rushing in his ears, he heard Claire scream again. No words this time, just another bloodcurdling scream. He lifted his head in a panic, trying to get his blurred vision to clear. It did, just in time to see one of his crutches come flying down at him again. He gasped and choked and listened to Claire scream as he was beaten again and again.

As his body was ravaged, his mind began to race, a voice deep inside him screaming, Get up! Fight back! Fight for her; she needs you!! Between the crushing blows, he struggled to move, to get up, to defend himself. He got to his knee, only to be knocked back down.

I can’t, came the wretched realization. I can’t…

The man delivered a final blow, and, surrendering, his body collapsed. Lying flat on the floor, he let his head fall. Darkness was closing in, and he felt himself slipping away, unable to focus on what was happening any longer. The last thing he was aware of, as his eyelids drooped, was the sound of Claire screaming.

***

“Nick?”

His whole body was trembling, and every now and then, he would jerk or moan, as if he were in pain. Alarmed, she put her hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, trying to bring him back to consciousness.

“Nick? Wake up! Wake up, Nick!”

***

He awoke to the sound of his own name and found himself lying on the front hall floor, the cold tiles chilling him to the bone. He sat up quickly, and as the pain hit him, remembered what had happened before he lost consciousness. Quickly forgetting the pain, his mind flew instantly to her.

“Claire?!”

He looked around frantically and found her exactly where the man had restrained her before, in the corner. She was alone now, sitting on the floor as he was, her back pressed against the wall. The realization that both of the intruders were gone filled him with relief momentarily.

Then he noticed the blood. A large circle of it, staining her lavender lingerie a sinister shade of scarlet.

“Nick…” she croaked, and all of a sudden, he felt as if he were going to be sick.

“No,” he choked out. “God, Claire… no.” Without a second thought, he put out his hands and used all the strength he could muster to drag himself across the smooth tiles. Pain radiated from every inch of his body, intensifying with each movement he made, but he ignored it; getting to her was all that mattered now.

When he reached her side, he saw that she was breathing laboriously, her ashen skin covered in perspiration. “Oh God,” he whispered again, realizing how badly she’d been wounded. How could I have let this happen? he thought. How could I have let him do this to her? “I’m sorry, Claire… God, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not… your fault…” She closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, he saw how dull they looked, not their usual shade of lustrous blue. “I’m so cold…”

He shook his head, panic-stricken, not knowing what to do for her. So he did the only thing he could think of. Very slowly and gently, he eased her down, so that she was lying flat, her head in his lap. He ran his hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her up. He felt her wince, and his eyes shot instantly to the stain on her silken nightdress. It seemed to be growing larger. Swallowing hard, he reached for the hem of the garment. With trembling fingers, he pulled it slowly up, over her thighs, past her waist. When he lifted it above her stomach, he felt his own stomach turn at the sight.

“It’s bad… isn’t it?” she whispered.

He couldn’t answer. He lowered the nightgown, and when he pulled his hands away, he saw that they were streaked with blood.

Her blood.

“I’m sorry, Claire,” he repeated thickly, tears rising in his eyes once again as he stared down at his hands. “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…”

***

“I’msorry…I’ms-sorry…I’msosorry…”

“Nick!” Claire shook him frantically; why wouldn’t he wake up?? She’d awoken to find him tossing and turning, moaning in his sleep. Then he’d started trembling, and now he kept mumbling the same thing over and over again. I’m sorry… I’m sorry… “Wake up!” she cried, roughly patting one of his cheeks.

That did it. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open, and his body jolted upright. Immediately, he looked over at her. In the light of the bedside lamp she had turned on, Claire could see the tears in the corners of his eyes; they had started to trickle down his cheeks.

“Nick?” she asked, her voice shrill and frightened. “Are you okay??”

He took in a deep, shuddering breath and released it slowly before nodding. “You’re… you’re all right,” he panted, staring at her with wide eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said, confused. “Just completely freaked out, thanks to you. Did you have a nightmare??” She didn’t try to hide her concern. What on earth had he been dreaming of that would make him react so severely?

He nodded again. “It was horrible,” he admitted hoarsely. He looked completely shaken.

Gently, she reached out to him and pulled him into a tight hug. Smoothing back his hair, running her hand up and down his back like a mother would to a child, she whispered soothingly, “It’s okay now… just a dream.” She held onto him for a long time before finally letting him go. As they both straightened up, she asked, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

He wiped his eyes, rubbing away the moisture that had formed there. “There were two of them,” he said. “Kind of a dream within a dream… and the last one, it felt so real… I thought it was real. I thought you were…” He trailed off, and she leaned forward, her eyes widening.

“Thought I was what?”

It took a moment for him to respond, but finally, he did. “Dying,” he answered in a whisper, dropping his eyes.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. “I was dying?” she repeated weakly. “Should I take that as a bad sign, the fact that you’re killing me off in your dreams?” She forced a smile; she’d meant it as a joke, to lighten the situation. But his lips did not even twitch. He looked utterly miserable. “I’m just kidding,” she said quickly, putting her hand on his shoulder. With her other hand, she reached out and cupped his chin, gently tilting it up so that his eyes met hers. “It’s okay, Nick,” she assured him. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

He looked away and did not reply, and a sick feeling came into the pit of her stomach. “Nick?” she asked hesitantly. His eyes shifted back to hers. “Um, just wondering… what… what was I dying from? Was it… cancer?” She was almost afraid to hear his answer. Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. It was just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything.

He surprised her by suddenly letting out a light chuckle. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t cancer at all. You… you got stabbed.”

“Oh,” she said, the sick feeling vanishing instantly. “Is that all??” She felt a million times better. Stabbed? Psh.

“Is that all??” Nick repeated, giving her an incredulous look. “It was awful, Claire… scared the hell out of me.”

“I know,” she said quickly, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I’m just saying… well, wouldn’t it have been scarier if it was something that was a little more likely to happen?” She laughed. “What are the chances of me getting stabbed?”

Finally, he cracked a smile. “Yeah, good point,” he murmured quietly. She could see the smile slowly fading from his lips. Something was still bothering him.

“Nick? What else happened?” she probed. “I mean, besides me getting stabbed?” She flashed him a quick grin. He didn’t smile back this time. He only shrugged, his shoulders falling limply. “Don’t do that,” she pleaded with him. “Don’t just shrug. Talk to me.”

He let out a soft sigh and lay back against the pillows. She lay back down beside him, curling up against his chest, wishing he’d open up to her. She felt his arm come around her, pulling her even closer, and she smiled a little, enjoying the feeling of being held close that way. She felt warm… safe… loved.

“I love you,” she murmured, closing her eyes and taking in all the sensations that surrounded her… the softness of his skin against her cheek… the gentle whoosh of breath as he inhaled and exhaled, his broad chest expanding against her body. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble in her ear.

“Thank you.”

She blinked and lifted her head so that she could see his face. “You’re welcome?” she said uncertainly, feeling a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for what?”

“For saying that… for loving me,” he replied. His expression was somber as he went on quietly, “If you didn’t… I don’t know what I’d do. Just be alone, I guess.”

All of a sudden, she could see where this conversation was going to lead. “Nick,” she sighed, “I’m not the only one who loves you. There are plenty of people out there who care about you just as much as I do. And if you hadn’t have met me, you’d be with some other woman. What’s happened to you hasn’t changed the fact that there are plenty of females out there who are crazy about you.”

His pillow rustled as he shook his head slowly. “No. They all think I’m a freak… a disgusting freak. They couldn’t even look at me.”

“Couldn’t even look at you?” she repeated, confused at first by his switching of tenses. Then it dawned on her. “You mean in your dream? Your nightmare?”

That had to have been what had sparked all his doubts this time. They resurfaced occasionally… less often now than during the first few months they had been together, but every now and then, he still got this way… self-conscious, down on himself, refusing to believe that anyone could find him desirable. At first, she’d been included in that “anyone.” Now it was “anyone but her,” as if she were the only person in the universe who could look past the missing leg and love him for what really mattered. She supposed that was progress, but still, it was hard, witnessing these self-loathing phases he went through. He’d been worse these last few weeks than she’d seen him in awhile.

He tilted his chin down, a subtle nod. “I fell… I tripped and fell, into a puddle of muddy water that was filled with scorpions and centipedes and leeches.”

Oh my! she thought, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. But as she felt his body shudder against hers, she chose not to say that out loud. He would think she was mocking him, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“I could hear them laughing, when I fell,” he continued quietly. “And when I got up, I was on this road… and there were all these people lined up on both sides…”

She listened as he recounted his dream, how he’d had to walk down the road, past all these people who stared at him and whispered about him behind his back. She winced as he repeated the words they had said, his voice filled with bitterness. Her heart ached as he listed the people he had seen, people who had once been friends, lovers, even his own mother.

Then he went on to the second part of the dream, and she listened intently, curious to find out how exactly it had gone from him walking down this road to her getting stabbed. He explained how he’d woken up within his dream and found himself in bed with her, and how she’d gone to investigate the sounds they’d heard.

That was dumb of me, she thought, but again, she did not speak. The memories of the seemingly vivid dream were still pouring out of him, and she knew better than to interrupt. He needed to get this out; he needed the release.

“… So I got up and followed you, as fast as I could… but I was too late. By the time I got out to the front hall, they already had you. One of them was holding onto you, holding you at knifepoint. Y-you were terrified, and I… I couldn’t do anything… The other guy, he knocked me down, and he grabbed one of my crutches and started beating me with it. And I couldn’t stop him… I couldn’t get up; I couldn’t fight back… I couldn’t do anything.” His voice was thick and filled with shame.

“Well, of course you couldn’t,” she jumped to his defense, her hand lightly trailing across his chest. “Who could, with someone beating them like that?” she asked, her voice turning shrill as she imagined the horrific scene from his nightmare.

He swallowed hard. “I should have been able to… I should have been able to stop them… I should have been able to protect you… and I couldn’t.”

“It’s not your fault, Nick,” she said softly. “It was just a dream. Nothing like that is going to happen. And good lord, if I ever thought I heard someone breaking in, I sure as hell wouldn’t go check it out! I mean, come on, that’s just asking for it!” He chuckled, and she smiled with relief. “Are you all right?” she asked him.

“I guess,” he replied uncertainly. “I just…” He trailed off with a heavy sigh.

“Keep going,” she urged him gently.

“I just… hate being this way. I hate feeling helpless.” Back was the bitterness and spite in his voice.

“You’re not helpless, Nick,” she told him. “There are a lot of things you can still do… and look how far you’ve come since last year. Yes, you’re always going to have limitations, but who doesn’t? There are tons of things I’ll never be able to do.”

“Well, sure… but I’m talking about basic stuff. Basic, easy stuff. I can’t even fucking walk anymore, not without help.”

“You can sing though. I’ll never be able to sing, even with help. But to you, that’s easy,” she countered. His pillow rustled again as he moved his head. She tilted her head up to find him scowling down at her, with a look that said, That’s not fair. She shot him an impish grin. “See?” she said. “Everybody has strengths and weaknesses, whether they’re totally able-bodied or not. Yes, just about anyone could kick your ass in a footrace right now, but you could kick just about anyone’s ass in a race on Nintendo. You can shoot baskets better than I can… you’re a better scuba diver than me… hell, you might still even be able to swim faster than me, but I’m not giving you that one that easy… we’ll have to race and find out sometime.”

She watched as a smile broke out on his face. “You’re on,” he challenged, his voice slightly hoarse.

“You got it,” she smiled back. He yawned in response, making her giggle. “Ready to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, closing his eyes. “Thanks, Claire. For l-“

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you,” she interrupted him. “I don’t do it for your gratitude… I don’t do it for anything. I just… do. I love you, Nick; I can’t help it.” She paused, then added, “And anyway, that’s a Bon Jovi song.”

“What is?”

“’Thank You For Loving Me’.”

“Thank you-ou-ou… for loooov-ii-ing me,” he warbled in a surprisingly accurate Jon Bon Jovi impression and then cut off, smiling sheepishly at her. “That’s not even what I was gonna say, you know.”

“Oh really? What were you going to thank me for then?” After she asked the question, she felt his arm tighten around her again.

“For listening.”


Oh, why you look so sad?
Tears are in your eyes
Come on and come to me now
Don’t be ashamed to cry
Let me see you through
‘Cause I’ve seen the dark side too

When the night falls on you
And you don’t know what to do
Nothing you confess
Could make me love you less

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t let nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you

So if you’re mad, get mad
Don’t hold it all inside
Come on and talk to me now
And hey, what you got to hide?
I get angry too
But I’m a lot like you

When you’re standing at the crossroads
Don’t know which path to choose
Let me come along
Cause even if you’re wrong

I’ll stand by you
I’ll stand by you
Won’t nobody hurt you
I’ll stand by you
Take me into your darkest hour
And I’ll never desert you
I’ll stand by you

- “I’ll Stand By You” by The Pretenders


***