He stepped out into the dimly lit hallway of his run down New York City apartment and shut the door swiftly behind him. It didn't even give him the satisfaction of a slam, the carpet beneath, catching it before it could make any sort of noise at all.

He didn't bother to lock up this night -- it wasn't necessary.

Nothing was really necessary anymore.

He felt as if the walls were closing in around him and the only thing he could do to escape the feeling was this. The bright flourescent lights which typically showered the hallways with warm glow, had gone out at some point during this latest snowstorm, and though they should have come on with the backup generators, instead they taunted him with their flickers of indecisiveness.

The darkness of the night outside crept into his tired body and slowly began taking over, as if it were seeping slowly through his bloodstream, poisoning him minute by minute with the feeling of exhaustion. It took over his thoughts... his feelings... his emotions. It took over his every move and made him feel as if he were moving slowly in a world with too little air to breathe.

He took to the stairs painfully, one stair at a time, one step at a time. He'd only made it ten floors before he needed to sit down and rest. On a normal day he could have jogged down those same stairs, all 22 flights, without a second thought and still he would have had energy left to go jogging after he'd reached the bottom.

On a normal day.

But this was not a normal day and he was not up for long flights of stairs or a brisk evening jog this night. The sheer thought of having to keep breathing seemed too much for him to bare. He stood once more to continue his trek, 'one step at a time,' he kept reminding himself even as his steps faltered and he had to sit down once again.

Why, after all the thought he'd put into this, was it turning out to be so damn hard?

His thoughts raced as he finally reached the last flight of stairs, knowing that the lobby stood behind the door at the bottom. He'd finally reached this one destination after what seemed like the longest, most painful journey of his entire life -- and yet he knew this was just the beginning. The journey wasn't going to end until he ended it. He turned and stared back towards the door to the stairs from which he'd just come... the pain wouldn't leave until he left it all behind.

His thoughts raced back over the weeks leading up to these moments. As he stood there in the center of a nearly empty lobby, it's ugly red carpet and wooden paneled walls with the pictures of old men hanging in a row that appeared to be watching his every move, it was hard to imagine that any of this was even real. There was that strange statue of some sort of elf-like creature on the ground near the elevator, holding what looked to be the world on it's shoulders and he thought to himself, "I know how that feels." There were a few large plants scattered about, the only source of life in the dingy, dark old place. The security desk in the corner by the door where the guard was typically seated eating a meal out of a take out box from whatever restaurant he'd ordered that night, stood empty. He took one last glance around the lobby. This place had been his escape from the world for two months now. He hadn't had to think about fortune or fame here... hadn't had to think about being a Backstreet Boy or a not-so-successful solo artist. Hadn't had to think of his failed marriage or what a crappy father he knew he was going to be in about 6 months... even she had agreed with him on that one. He hadn't had to think about drugs or alcohol, rehab or sobriety. He hadn't had to think about life at all here.

Not at all.

He'd been able to sit on his bed alone and write songs and listen to music and watch tv and not think about all of those things. In fact, he'd gotten damn good at not thinking at all. At becoming numb to his emotions when the need arose... he'd learned that from all the years of watching Nick do the same.

It was amazing, he thought, how your best friends always seemed to disappear when you needed them most. Where had the phonecalls been? The search parties? Where was his ex-wife... the soon-to-be mother of his child?

Where were the three guys who were supposed to be his best friends?

He stared at the double glass doors that led out into the night. His only escape now. An escape from hell, from pain... from this life. He took a deep breath as he headed for the doors. This was the only path to freedom that he could think of... it was now or never and he knew he had to take it.