I pick up the letter on Christie's bed, then read it. My heart pounds so rapidly, and my mouth goes dry. Anxiously, I turn back to her bathroom to see water overflowing from under her door.
"Christie, Christie open this door! Christie!" My heart races so fast. I feel lightheaded with worry.
"Dammit!" I snap before breaking the door open. My heart drops to the floor, drop the hammer against my chest. A lump forms in my throat, as I turn motionless at the sight. There's blood on the floor and an open bottle of pills on the sink. Glass is shattered on the floor, and a razor lies in the middle of it. I rush to the bathtub, where a lifeless body rests against the tub. Is it Christie? It doesn't look like her at all. "Christie," I call our loudly, shaking her and moving the dark hair from her face. It really is her.
"No no no, baby wake up!" I shake her again, but she doesn't move at all. My eyes water in frustration.
"Christie, you better fucking wake up," I mutter while dragging her out of the bathtub and on the floor, where I spread a towel so the glass doesn't cut her. She wears just a bra and panties. Blood covers her arms. Bruises cover her body, which is twice as skinny as it was the last time I saw her. Her hair isn't blonde anymore. Her bones are so visible that they might cut through her pale skin.
Once again I shake her, checking her pulse and heartbeat. Nothing.
"Christie! Christie!" My voice cracks, and I start panicking.
"C'mon baby, WAKE UP!" I bark, pumping on her chest and stomach. I'm so angry and frustrated, so I start to cry in her neck.
"Please wake up," I quickly glue myself together and wipe the tears away. I decide to try one last thing. I hover her over the toilet, and shove my fingers down her throat to make her gag.
"C'mon, c'mon!" I shove them deeper. Finally, she starts to gag, and the pills come out. She coughs and breathes deeply.
|| "No one said it would be easy, but I never knew I'd be so lonely. Now I have you here to hold me." Chapter song: Body by Wet || (Justin's p.o.v.)
What am I supposed to do about Becca? She's all freaked out and scared because of what Max did. She was hoping he wasn't out of jail; I was too. And he somehow found her and now she's scared straight. I can bandage her wounds, tend her bruises, soothe her headaches; however, I can't resolve her anxiety. I can't lessen her fear nor calm her nerves. I've tried it before, when Max and Selena almost killed her. It didn't help, and even when she did get better, it took weeks. The last thing I want is for her to be all paranoid while I'm off on tour.
It's so early, but now that I'm awake, I can't go back to sleep. The AMA awards start at seven, but I'm supposed to get there thirty minutes before. L.A. traffic is way worse than NYC traffic, so we should leave by 5:30. Other than that, I'm thinking about taking Becca out for frozen yogurt. It might make her nervous, but she honestly can't stay inside forever. Plus, I know nothing bad's gonna happen. Scooter hired some more bodyguards, since people lately have been rowdier around us.
Becca shifts in bed, stretching her arm out across my chest.
"How long have you been up?" she whispers with her despondent blue eyes looking up at me.
"Not long," I place my hand over hers.
"You look tired." Her other hand daintily strokes my cheek.
"Yeah?" I smirk at how she's not afraid to tell me little things like that.
"But it's cute," she smiles so brightly, it makes me realize that the sun is shining so early this morning. Her eyes are the clear blue sky. Her lips are the roses for sale across the street. Her teeth are the moon covered by all the light of day. Her skin is the warm California air that embraces me.