Date: Sun, 26 Sep 1999 22:13:29 EDT
From: "Paul (The Town Tramp)" <thetowntramp@hotmail.com>
Subject: Rock Bottom

Note: This story does not imply anything about the sexuality of Brian
Littrell or Nick Carter of the Backstreet Boys.  If you are under 18 or are
offended by homosexual literature, then you should go away now.  That being
said, on with the story.

Rock Bottom
By Paul


Chapter One:

     Nick walked around his room aimlessly.  He was wearing only baggy
sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt.  His eyes were glazed over, almost
black, and appeared very hard.  His face was pale of white, showing no sign
of life whatsoever.  His movements were automatic, as his mind was not
controlling his body at all.  This is what it had come down to.
     He was tired of walking; it was doing no good.  His head seemed to be
like a car's tires spinning, all the while going nowhere.  His mind seemed
to be going so fast.  He didn't like it at all.  It was causing him
unimaginable pain, and he knew that it was time to end it.
     Nick had been low before, but never this low.  Sure, he'd had to go to
see a therapist a couple of times to talk about problems, but he'd never
felt so dark and unloved.  Nick had fallen into insanity.  Nick wanted to
die.
     Whenever he had discussed suicide with other people, like Brian,
Howie, A.J., or Kevin, Nick had always maintained that he would never
possess enough strength to do it.  That belief was gone now.  Nick now
realized that he did not have the strength to go on living his life, which
won over his lack of strength to kill himself.
     And so it stood.  Nick had decided that Nick Carter would no longer
exist.  And, in his insane mind, this made him happy.  Nick saw a glimmer
of hope; he would soon see the bright light leading him into heaven.  Now,
all he wanted to do was get it over with.  He walked into his bathroom; he
opened the mirror-door to the medicine cabinet.  There he found an
assortment of pills.  He took out a bottle of a prescription pain killer
that he took sometimes for his shoulder.  He took out a bottle of Tylenol
Threes, and he took out a bottle of Nytol that he had lately very much
relied on to put him to sleep every night.  It was time.  Nick was ready to
leave.
     He had a cup of water beside his bed.  He had drank some of it the
previous night, but it was still half full.  Nick decided that it was
plenty to commit his task.  On his bed, he placed the glass of water, and
began to open each pill bottle one by one.  He poured each one out onto the
bed.  Nick was angry that he had already used most of the Nytol, as that
was the one that he knew for sure would kill him.  However, there were at
least sixty pills scattered on the bed, and Nick knew for a fact that an
overdose that large would kill him and he would never have to face another
day.
     However, since he had never confided in anyone about his depressive
feelings before, Nick decided that he had to leave a note so no one blamed
themselves.  No one was to blame themselves.  There was no one to blame.
It was just Nick himself.  It was that he wasn't good enough to be loved,
and that pain made him decided to leave now before suffering anymore.  And
so he wrote:

To whoever receives this, I have decided to end my life.  It's too hard.
My brain is going out of control, and I hate the way it feels.  I'm not
going to go on like this.  I can't.  I don't have the strength, and I'm
much better off this way.  I know I've never confided in anyone my
feelings, but believe me, feelings like these have been going on for long
enough that I know they aren't going away.  There isn't any help for me,
and that's why I have to go now.  Nobody blame themselves.  This is not
because you didn't love me; I'm impossible to love.  This is not because of
what happened with Justin, and this is not because I'm gay.  This is just
because I'm not good enough to be human, and I hope you all understand that
this is the best thing for me to do.

Much love, Nick.

     He folded the white piece of paper that he had written his note on
into three, and on the upward facing portion, he simply wrote, "Goodbye."
He had said all he wanted to say, and Nick felt it was time to leave this
world.  So he scooped the rest of the Nytol caplets and some of his
prescription painkillers into has hand and stuck them in his mouth.  He
took a drink of the water from the glass, and swallowed them.  There glass
of water was still about a quarter of the way full, so Nick took another
handful of pills, shoved them in his mouth, and swallowed them with the
water remaining in the glass.  Finally, the act had been committed, and for
not much longer would Nick be in pain.
     About thirty seconds after he had swallowed the pills, the regret
started to set in.  Nick grew frightened about dying, but he tried to calm
himself by reminding him of the pain he had gone through - the pain of
being hated, and the pain of losing Justin, the only boy he had ever loved.
He reminded himself that he could no longer go through his life, as it was
just too hard and too much of a struggle.
     Just then, a knock came on the door.  Nick was startled, not wanting
to be caught.
     "Who's there," asked Nick.
     "It's Brian, Nicky," said the voice from outside.  "Can I come in?"
     Nick paused and tried to weigh his options.  If he told Brian to go
away, he would think something was wrong.  Then again, if he let him in and
passed out in front of Brian's eyes, Brian would take him to the hospital
and get his stomach pumped, and he wouldn't die.  Nick decided that he
would let Brian in, pretend he was sick and hope to Hell that Brian would
leave before he passed out.
     Quickly, Nick took the pill bottles and the pills and brushed them
under his bed.  Once the room appeared to be clean, he instructed Brian to
come in.
     When Brian came in, Nick was under the covers of his bed.  Nick pulled
a tissue from the box beside his bed and blew his nose.
     "Are you sick, Nicky?" asked Brian.
     "Yeah, Brian, I am," replied Nick.
     "Oh, that sucks, man.  I was going to take you out for dinner, you
know, just the two of us.  One of those friendship re-kindlings that Oprah
talks about all the time."
     "That's to bad, Bri," said Nick.  "Another time?"
     "Of course, bro," said Brian.  "Is there anything I can do for you,
like get you a drink of water or some Neo-Citran?"
     "No, Bri, I'll be fine, really," replied Nick, growing more anxious of
whether Brian would be out in time.
     "I could read you something, or sing you a song," said Brian.  "I'll
do anything to make you feel better."
     "No, Bri.  I'll be better in a couple of days.  I just need some
rest."
     Brian noticed the basket of clean clothes Nick had yet to put away.
"Oh, Nicky, I'll just put those clothes away for you and then I'll go,
okay?"
     Nick was getting very woozy.  He knew he was going to pass out at any
moment.  He didn't want to die nearly as much anymore, but he didn't want
to tell Brian in case that Brian would make him feel stupid.  He was
drifting away even more with every passing second.
     Just as he closed his eyes, Nick said to Brian, "Bri, I did something
very bad."
     Brian, preoccupied with putting away Nick's clean clothes, asked
off-hand, "What is it Nicky?  I'm sure it's not that bad."
     Brian continued to put away Nick's Nike sweatshirts while awaiting his
answer.  Ten seconds passed and Nick hadn't said anything.  "Nick?" Brian
asked.
     Brian turned around and saw Nick with his eyes closed and his head
against the pillow.  "Nicky, asleep so quickly?  How rude of you to fall
asleep while I'm still here.  You could have at least waited."
     Brian walked over to the bed and shook Nick, in an attempt to wake
him.  After shaking him a couple of times, he realized something was wrong
because Nick wasn't waking up.  "Nick?" Brian asked.  "Nick, wake up,"
Brain said in frightened tone, as beads of sweat were starting to erupt
from his forehead.
     The piece of paper on Nick's bedside table struck Brian's eye.  He
picked it up, and read the word, "Goodbye."  Brian opened it.  After
reading the first sentence, he realized what bad thing Nick had done.
Brian, in a frenzy, ran to the telephone and dialed "911".
     The operator picked up.  "Police, fire or ambulance?" she said.
     "Ambulance," Brian screamed.  "My friend has tried to kill himself."
     As he talked to the 911 operator, Brian picked up Nick and cradled him
in his arms.  "Don't leave me, Nick," Brian said in an intense whisper to
his unconscious friend.  "Don't leave me."

To be continued...

Will Nick die?  Did Brian call 911 in time enough to save him?  All of
these questions will be answered in Chapter Two.  Please send comments to
thetowntramp@hotmail.com.