First of all, I'm sorry I scared some of you with my AN last chapter with the part with the accident. I literally just got my G2 and the other car hit the passenger side and I was alone so I escaped with just a minor concussion and a sprained wrist, but I am absolutely fine! :) Thanks for your concern, guys.
And also, thanks so so much for the words of encouragement. I really hated the last chapter, but you guys seemed to enjoy it so I thank you for that! It really lifted my spirits, and I felt a little less like I totally failed there.
Anyway, guess what? You didn't have to wait 3 weeks for this chap!
Breakdown
Chapter 28: Nightmare
Logan sat on Carlos' bed with his legs crossed beneath him. He peered across the room at the sleeping form of James, lying atop the covers of his own mattress. He looked peaceful, the first time Logan hadn't seen his mouth turned down dejectedly in far too long. But the calm air was only going to last until he woke up, Logan knew, and that apprehension was enough to make his heart hurt for his suffering friend.
As far as Logan was concerned, James had never done anything to deserve this kind of inhumane treatment. James was a great guy, his best friend, Carlos and Kendall's, too. No, scratch that. He was their brother and they had known and loved him for years upon years. Sure, he could be self-absorbed sometimes- okay, almost all the time- bordering on narcissistic, even, but James was kind and funny and caring and passionate and selfless and a plethora of other things that made a person genuine and loveable. So why him? Why this? The boys all had their fair share of bad luck once in a while, but this no football to the head or sunscreen-ruined shirt. James hadn't broken a mirror. He'd been exposed to an awful disorder, a breakdown of the worst kind, an humiliating situation, and now, quite possibly the devil in disguise.
To Logan, it all seemed so bittersweet. James got the life he'd always wanted; fame, money, girls. But only a year in and already it was a case of be careful what you wish for. The fame hadn't seemed to be doing James, or any of them for that matter, any good lately. At all. And so now Logan couldn't help but wonder...once this disaster was behind them, should they just quit?
Going on just didn't seem worth it to Logan. Sure, James would probably, despite everything, be completely against going back to Minnesota. Logan knew that even though James had said several times in the recent past that he wanted to go home, he wanted to stay in Hollywood more.
But would this conflict make him decide otherwise? This was even worse than the suicide attempt, but then, James still hadn't wanted to go home afterwards, and besides, that was before his medication had started taking effect. But the way James was talking about wanting- no, needing- to go back into that office of doom with Dr. Clark gave Logan the impression that after this was all over, James would want to stay. But at what cost?
Logan sighed from his spot on Carlos' bed and leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and resting his face in his hands. It was too much, all of it. So absolutely ridiculous, and definitely not something Logan ever would have imagined happening to one of his best friends. They were only seventeen, for Christ's sake! This was supposed to be the kind of thing you only saw in movies or read in novels. It wasn't supposed to be reality. They weren't supposed to become involved in it.
Logan held back a frustrated groan and sat that way until he heard the door creak open.
Logan peeked up from between his fingers to see Kendall and Carlos both standing there. Carlos was sniffling loudly, while Kendall had a hand placed on Carlos' heaving shoulder. Logan quickly scrambled from Carlos' bed and helped Kendall lead the owner to it.
They let Carlos get comfortable before they sat on the end of the bed, leaning their backs against the wall and letting their feet dangle over the side.
"Are you alright, Carlos?" Logan asked, concern evident in his voice. It was obvious his friend had been crying.
Carlos sat up against his pillows and wiped at his tears. He shook his head and spoke with a broken voice. "Logan, how can I be alright? How can any of us be alright? James is going through hell, and all we can do is stand by and watch. James isn't the same anymore, and he never will be, and I hate that, so no, I am not alright."
Logan frowned and turned to Kendall. "He broke down almost an hour ago," the blond informed him.
"He can hear you, and he can speak for himself."
Both Logan and Kendall were slightly shocked at the acidity in Carlos' voice. Yes, he was miles past angry, they got that, they all were, but Carlos had never spoken to them in that tone before. But they chose not to say anything. They understood. How could they not? This was by far the worst thing they had ever gone through. A death threat? Nothing topped that.
The boys were quiet for a moment, not in the mood for apologies. So they sat in the dark room in silence, the only sound, and quite a reassuring one at that, was James' soft breathing. They listened to it, taking in the fact that there was a chance that breathing was something he, maybe even all of them, wouldn't be doing in less than a week. It wasn't a very comforting thought.
Finally, Kendall broke the silence. "How long has he been asleep?"
Logan looked up from his hands and glanced over at the sleeping form of James. "About an hour. We were talking and he just dozed off. That's good though. He really needs the rest."
Logan paused, thoughtful for a moment. "Where were you for the past three hours?" he questioned the blond. Logan felt Kendall tense next to him, and he automatically thought the worst. What more trouble has Kendall gotten into?
"I just went for a walk in the park."
"For three hours?" Logan scoffed skeptically.
"I had to cool off, okay? Would you get off my back?"
Now Logan tensed, angrily. Was Kendall seriously trying to pick a fight? Now?
"Kendall, just tell me where you were. I have a right to know."
Now Kendall's tone took on a slight hint of disbelief, mixing in with the spite that already existed there. "No you don't! It's none of your business where I was, and you know it!"
"Kendall..." Carlos' meek voice suddenly piped up. He sounded so upset and afraid that Kendall tried to calm himself down, for Carlos' sake. "Kendall, please, Logan's not trying to invade your privacy or anything, he just wants to know..."
Kendall sighed. Carlos was right. Again. "Look, guys, Logan, I'm sorry. This is just...so much. I mean, look at us. We're all fighting and uncertain and we're...we're just a mess. One big, giant, seriously messed up family. And there's nothing we can do. The freaking cops won't even help!" Kendall spat out the last sentence with pure malice coating his words.
"I still don't understand that," Logan muttered quietly, trying to actually be mindful of his unfortunate friend in the other bed. "I mean, I understand why they can't just arrest Dr. Clark right off based on verbal explanation and no physical evidence, but...I can't believe it. I mean, would anyone really make something like this up? No. It just... God, it really pisses me off!"
And while Logan had at first been trying to keep his voice down, he was shouting louder than Kendall by the end of his rant. All three heads of the awake boys snapped to the sleeping one when he began to moan and stir in his sleep.
James flipped onto his back, then twisted into an uncomfortable looking position on his side, restless. His face no longer held the peaceful visage it had earlier when he'd first fallen asleep.
"No, please, not them... Just shoot me..."
A loud gasp escaped Carlos' mouth, and he turned to gape at Logan and Kendall with full-fledged panic in his wide, horrified eyes.
Kendall glanced sharply at Logan and the genius swallowed hard. It was just a dream. Maybe James wouldn't...
But he would. It was James. There was no way he'd let his friends get hurt over him.
"Oh my God..." Logan didn't even register the words slipping past unbated lips. Even in sleep, James wasn't safe.
James yawned, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms high over his head before he opened his eyes. He sat up and patted at his hair, knowing he was sure to have major bedhead. He seemed to recall tossing and lot in his sleep. And...had there been a nightmare? He couldn't remember. Regardless, he felt like he hadn't slept a wink. And not just last night. In weeks. He wondered if he'd feel the smallest bit rejuvenated if he slept the next month solid. He didn't think so.
James sat up and glanced across the room at Carlos' bed. Empty. Not surprising. Carlos wasn't one for sleeping past the first light.
Yawning again, in dire need to get the oxygen to his brain to help him wake up and shake the groggy feeling, James rolled out of bed and grabbed his lucky comb from his bedside table. He headed for the door. Of course, the very first thing he'd have to do was go in the bathroom to fix his hair. Great hair was the number one important thing to do as soon as you wake up every morning. That and brush your teeth.
James ran his fingers carefully along the teeth of his shiny black comb as he stumbled down the hall. His mind was still clouded, and he felt almost dizzy from lack of sleep. He supposed he'd just have to get used to it; he'd surely be having nightmares about guns and evil laughing doctors for a while. If he even lived a while, that was.
James rounded the corner that led to the kitchen and living room area of the apartment. He froze. His eyes grew to an impossible diameter as they stared at the scene before him in despair and disbelief.
No. No no no. This wasn't happening. He was still asleep, still dreaming- no, still being tormented by a nightmare.
But he could see the fear in the desperate eyes of his friends, he could feel their helplessness from across the room, and he knew it was real.
Dr. Clark stood in front of them as they sat on the orange couch, trying to keep as still as possible. He had a gun pointed at them. He hadn't seen James yet.
James panicked. What should he do? Should he hide in his room and call 911? No, no way he was leaving his friends like that. Should he try and fight Dr. Clark? Would he be able to take him? James was by no means weak, but Dr. Clark was older and he was solid, too. He'd easily over power James. Not to mention the fact the he, uh, had a gun!
But it didn't really matter what James would have ultimately done, because Dr. Clark suddenly turned around and saw him-not just saw him, but lookedright at him, grinning dementedly, and all at once James couldn't breathe.
"Well, well. Looks like somebody decided to come and watch. How nice of you, James. I'm sure your friends will be glad that you witnessed their murder. We wouldn't want what happened to them be a mystery, now would we?" And the idiot laughed as if it was funny.
"Come here, James," he ordered, beckoning James forward by motioning with the gun. By now James was trembling and ghostly white, practically translucent. He immediately complied, fearing a bloody mess if he didn't.
"This is all your fault, you know," Dr. Clark rambled, his tone even, as if he was having a normal conversation with James and not pointing a gun nonchalantly at his friends, as if holding the lives of teenagers in his hands was an every day occurrence for him.
James didn't answer. Dr. Clark didn't seem to mind.
"If you would have just stayed with Hawk the first time, none of this would be happening. A three record deal, he gave you, and you turned your back on him faster than you did your friends. You can't blame the guy for being a little...ticked."
James wanted to laugh. Almost did. Ticked? Ticked was what you feel when someone tells on you when they promised not to. Ticked wasn't hiring someone to kill the talent of your nemesis. Hawk was beyond vengeful. The only word James could think of that described it was full blown insanity. Hawk was insane, and that was that. It was a known fact.
But this? Sending a psychopath after them, to do the dirty work for him? James didn't know what it was. It certainly wasn't human, that was for sure.
Still James said nothing. He trembled violently beside Dr. Clark, and standing so close to the heinous man made him feel sick.
"I want you to do something for me, James," Dr. Clark continued, and the fake cheeriness in his voice made James want to grab the gun from his hand and just end it. James decided right then and there; he'd be the one to kill Dr. Clark.
But it didn't look like that was happening any time soon. Dr. Clark pulled something from his back pocket, and James twitched nervously when he saw what the object was. The glint of a silver blade caught his eye. A knife.
Three gasps echoed each other from the couch, and the next thing James knew, Dr. Clark was standing behind him with the gun still trained on his his three hopeless friends, but there was one major difference now. The knife was pressed against the delicate flesh of his neck.
"James, no, don't touch him!" James wasn't sure which of his friends had screamed that, but James wished whoever it was would shut up. Angering Dr. Clark was not going to help anything.
At the outburst, James felt the sharp edge of the blade press down just a little harder. An involuntary tear rolled down his cheek. He would have thrown up had he not been so utterly afraid for his life to move.
"This is what I want you to do, James," Dr. Clark whispered, his mouth just a fraction of an inch from James' ear. His throat bobbed with a suppressed sob, and it took him everything he had not to flinch and cause himself more pain and danger as the blade dug deeper.
Suddenly the gun was in James' hands. He would have been confused had his fear not been unable to be dominated by any other emotion.
Before Dr. Clark even said it, James knew what was expected of him, and he gasped, not even caring that it caused the knife the draw the first blood. He hardly felt the burning sting. The pain, no, the agony he would cause himself in a moment if he did what he knew Dr. Clark was about to force him to do would hurt far more than a nicked neck.
"Ah, yes. You already know, don't you?"
"No," James moaned. He felt the bile at the back of his throat. His couldn't see clearly. He couldn't feel the floor beneath his feet. This couldn't be real, it wasn't happening, no, no, no, wake up...
"You are going to shoot them. And then I will kill you, slowly and painfully. I will drag it out for as long as possible. You will beg me to die quickly. But it will be no use. You're a stupid, pathetic child. You deserve this. You don't even care about your friends, remember? You left them, turned your back on them, fought them when they were trying to help you. Would a true friend do that?"
James didn't answer. He knew it was rhetorical.
"Alright, enough chit-chat. Just aim and pull the trigger. It's that easy. You only have to move one finger. It isn't that hard."
James' knees nearly gave out. He caught himself before he could be decapitated. The tears were streaming heavily down his face now, blurring his vision. He moaned again. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't. He would rather die than shoot his own friends.
"No, please, not them..." he pleaded in a final act of desperation. Maybe if he annoyed Dr. Clark enough, he'd just kill him right then and there.
"Shoot me instead."
James could feel Dr. Clark shaking behind him as he laughed. "Please, boy. Do you really think I'd make it that easy for you? Of course I want you dead. Hawk wants you dead. And believe me when I say I will kill you. But you need to be tortured first."
The knife was suddenly pushing against his neck so hard that James didn't dare breathe. He could feel warm blood already pouring down his neck. He closed his eyes.
Do it, he thought silently. Just kill me. Don't make me do this.
"Do it now!" Dr. Clark roared, his patience no longer existent.
James sobbed wildly. He couldn't stand here like this forever. If he didn't do it, Dr. Clark would.
James let his eyes fall on his friends. They were terrified, of course, but there was something in their eyes...they were telling him it was okay. Telling him to just do it. James wanted to scream. He wasn't going to!
"Fine, you little prick, I'll do it myself! But mark my words; you are going to have the most painful death you can imagine."
The knife was removed from James' throat, the gun was ripped from his unsteady hand, and then there was a throbbing pain in the back of his head. Dr. Clark released James, and he tilted to the side, his vision dimming. James felt himself hit the ground hard. He heard multiple voices calling his name, three maybe. He wanted to answer them, but he didn't know what to say. Besides, he was too tired to open his eyes. So incredibly tired...
Just as he was about to lose his grasp on consciousness, he heard a loud cross between and crack and a bang.
A gunshot.
The loud noise awoke James, and he sat up, not noticing how soft the floor suddenly was, and then he attacked.
He lunged, throwing himself at Dr. Clark, fists flailing, screaming his head off.
"YOU BASTARD! YOU SICK BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU? !"
"Whoa, hey, hey, James calm down, man!"
"NO! YOU KILLED THEM, YOU SON-Of-A-BITCH! YOU'RE GOING TO PAY!"
James squirmed as his arms were pinned to his sides. He released a high-pitched, bone-chilling scream, but his captor didn't let go.
"James, it's us, wake up, man! It's me, Logan! You're okay, James, please!"
James heard the voice, but it couldn't be real, could it? No, of course not, his mind was playing tricks on him, trying to convince him that Logan was still alive. But wait. Maybe he was. There had only been one gunshot. He had three friends sitting on that couch.
But then who...
James slowly opened his eyes apprehensively. He didn't want to see who was dead. Which one of them had been killed?
James looked around and gasped.
"You-you're all alive?"
Logan, Kendall, and Carlos. And Mrs. Knight and Katie, but James hadn't seen them yet.
"Yes, James, we're alive. We're fine. It was just a dream. Just a dream."
"Just a dream..." James whispered dazedly. It was then that he realized he was indeed sitting up in his bed, drenched in sweat, and quivering so hard his bed shook. His face was wet, and James knew he was crying. And he didn't care.
He noticed next that Carlos was rubbing his jaw and cheek.
"Carlos..." James remembered fighting, lashing out and punching. Oh God...
Carlos looked at James with sorrowful eyes. "It's okay, Jamie. It wasn't your fault. I'm not mad. I just need to know you're okay."
James buried his face in his hands. He felt someone else's rubbing his back, his shoulder, gently stroking his hair.
And then he heard Mrs. Knight's soft voice.
"James, sweetie, can you look at me?"
James shook his head.
"Please. I just want to help you."
Now James did raise his head, not because Mrs. Knight had asked nicely, but to shout at her.
"How can you possibly help me? !" he shrieked, and he didn't care if he got in trouble. It just didn't matter. He had worse things to worry about, far deeper trouble he needed to dig himself out of.
"What can any of you do for me? There's nothing! I'm screwed no matter what! So no, I'm not okay!"
Nobody was surprised by James' outburst, but it didn't stop all their hearts from growing heavy, threatening to break apart. Their fears had just been confirmed. James was broken, and, no matter how hard they tried, there would be no putting him back together. There'd always be a small piece missing. And that meant that there would always be a small part of them missing, too.
"What time is it?" James asked softly. His sudden change in tone startled everyone for a moment, but they reminded themselves that James did that now.
It was strange that it had been almost six months and they still weren't used to James' occasional mood swings that he still had despite there having had been no more issue with his medication. He was over feeling, as he'd once put it, insane.
But then there was this whole dilemma. The poor guy couldn't catch a break. Just as he'd started feeling better about everything, he had a reason to hate the world again. It seemed like life was determined to keep him down; it had knocked him flat on his ass so many times already, but he'd been successful in rebelling each time. Now, though, as much as it hurt to think, seemed like it would be different. They just all felt so certain that James wouldn't bounce back for once. It was a difficult thought to process.
"Almost midnight," Mrs. Knight finally answered. She cautiously reached forward and pushed James' hair back from his forehead. He didn't even try to flinch away. He was exhausted. However, at the same time, he was disappointed that it was only midnight. That meant it wasn't morning, obviously, not time to get up, which meant he'd have to go back to sleep for several hours, and while he knew he needed sleep, while he craved it, he knew he wouldn't be able to. Sure, he'd fall asleep no problem, at this point he was so tired he felt like everything was happening in slow motion, but he didn't want to sleep because he knew the nightmare would return.
"You need to sleep," Logan commented, as if he was suddenly telepathic and had read James' mind. "Look, we...we need to talk about this in the morning."
"I know." James spoke quietly, but there was a hard edge to his voice, the cue for everyone else to leave him alone.
Kendall patted James' shoulder a final time before he, his mother, Katie, and Logan left to go back to their own rooms.
After a silent moment of staring into the darkness and James wondering if he should let him fall asleep or not, Carlos spoke up.
"James?" he began in a voice just above a whisper.
"Yeah, Carlos?"
Carlos hesitated a moment. He didn't want to say the wrong thing and get James mad at him. It wasn't a feeling he like, being afraid of his best friend. Or, not necessarily of James, but of angering him. Angry James was scary James, plus Carlos didn't want to make him feel any worse.
"Um, i-if you don't want to go back to sleep, I'll stay up and talk with you."
When James didn't answer right away, Carlos assumed he had offended him by somehow implying that James was a wimp. That hadn't been what Carlos was getting at at all. It was just that Carlos knew the reluctance of going back to sleep after waking form a terrible nightmare.
Unknown to Carlos, however, James was smiling. That was so typical Carlos, just wanting everyone to be happy and comfortable. It was one of the things that made Carlos so irresistibly loveable.
But James didn't want Carlos to know just how scared he was. So he responded, in a light, casual voice, "Thanks, Carlitos, but Logan's right. I'm wrecked. I really need to get some sleep."
"Oh. Alright then. Well, I hope you sleep well."
"Thanks, Carlos."
"Goodnight, James."
"Night."
Carlos was snoring softly within a mere few minutes, and James wondered if maybe he should have accepted the offer to stay up and talk with Carlos. But what was there to talk about? The only possible topics James could think of were ones he never wanted to discuss again, the ones that had been talked to death already but always found their way into s new discussion practically every day. Discussions about him and everything that was going wrong in his life. James already thought about it 24/7, why would he want to continue talking about it?
Laying awake by himself really gave James a chance to think about this new conflict. He'd wanted to go back to Dr. Clark's office so that he could attain the required evidence so that this horrendous man would never see the outside of cell walls again, but the more James thought about it, the less he wanted to go. He knew Dr. Clark would find him and kill him if he didn't go. But the thought of being alone in that room with that man, gushing to him very personal information about his friends that would end their careersturned James' stomach and made his head spin.
James rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow, desperately trying to hold back the tears that burned his eyes and threatened to spill over. How was it fair for him to have to make such a decision? All he'd been doing was trying to live his relatively new, exciting life, the one he'd always dreamed of. But then he'd gone and flipped out and got bipolar disorder. Okay, so it hadn't happened quite like that. James knew it wasn't something controllable. But this whole thing had started with this stupid disorder.
James by now had gotten used to having to to try a little bit harder to keep his emotions in check, had gotten used to taking a little tablet to help with that every morning. But now that James thought about it, he realized; he was mad.
This stupid god damn disorder was ruining his life. If he hadn't been diagnosed with it, he never would have gone to Hawk, never would have tried to kill himself, and he never would have had to go to Dr. Clark. Bipolar disorder was a killer.
James squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth together in a futile attempt to keep holding the tears at bay. Crying was useless. It didn't help anything. Crying didn't make the pain go away, didn't make the disorder go away, and it wouldn't make heartless Dr. Clark have a sudden bout of compassion.
But James couldn't hold back any longer. His pillow quickly became wet with the tears. James didn't care how weak crying made him feel. Didn't care that that was practically all he'd been doing all day. Because when he got right down to it, crying was the only thing he could do.
Unfortunately, ll the crying was taking its toll on James; it wiped him completely out, making him feel even more utterly exhausted.
Maybe there wouldn't be another nightmare. And maybe once he slept his mind would be sharper, and he could think this through more thoroughly. He knew he was his friends were going to have a major discussion about this tomorrow; he needed to be alert and aware.
So, at long last, James let himself be taken away by the emptiness of sleep, his last thought that of praying for a peaceful one.
Hawk wasn't one to forgive easily. Holding grudges was his thing. He'd been holding one against Gustavo for nearly twenty years!
So, naturally, he hadn't been too happy when he'd woken up in his office, slumped over in his chair, his head resting in a puddle of semi-dried blood that pooled over the surface of his desk.
Kendall Knight always had had a temper. But so had Hawk. That and a history of revenge.
Utterly enraged, Hawk yanked his phone off the receiver and dialed. He nearly crushed it in his tightly clenched fist. Kendall Knight was going to pay for what he did. And Hawk knew just what to do to make not only him, but his pathetic little followers suffer.
Dr. Clark wasn't sure if he should feel excited or nervous when he saw that the caller ID read 'Hawk Records'.
Regardless, he picked up the receiver. "Yes, Boss?"
Hawk spoke lowly, fury evident in his voice, but Dr. Clark also picked up on the note of enticement. As soon as he heard what the other man had to say, he knew why.
"Yes, Boss. Of course. It would be my pleasure."
Dr. Clark waited until he heard the click from the other end before he hung up the phone. A slow, sinister grin broke out on his darkened face. This was going to be fun.
Wow, I got really cheesy there with the whole missing pieces part. Ugh.
What did Hawk tell Dr. Clark to do? Something bad, no doubt.
Oh no, did Kendall make things worse last chapter?...
Next chapter will be less talking and thinking, more action!