Nick Carter walked out of his newly bought house and down towards the beach. It was about 10pm and he just wanted to take a walk. He and the rest of the Boys had had such a hectic schedule for the past 6 months and they finally had a few days off before their homecoming concert on New Years Eve.
When he reached the beach, he slipped off his shoes and started to walk towards the rocks. It was his favorite place to chill. As he got closer, he noticed a figure curled up in a ball. He then heard the sobbing:
“Are you okay?” I looked up startled. As soon as he saw my beat up face, the look on his face turned to horror:
“Oh my god…” That was all he managed to get out:
“Do you need some help?” I shook my head. He knelt down in front of me:
“Yes you do.” He put his hand on my shoulder. I jumped back and winced in pain from my sudden movement. He looked slightly hurt:
“Where does it hurt?” I managed to mumble:
“Everywhere.” He reached down and picked me up, whispering the whole time:
“Shh…Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to help clean you up. I live right there.” He pointed to a huge house right on the beach. I wasn’t worried. For some strange reason, I felt really safe. I couldn’t explain it.
When we reached his house, he laid me down on the couch. I was still shaking. He gently brushed my hair out of my face and then stood up and went to get stuff to clean up my face and my skinned knees. He returned with everything and sat down so he could begin:
“So do you want to tell me what happened?” I swallowed hard:
“I tripped and fell.” He just nodded. I knew that he didn’t believe me. He began cleaning out the cut on my knee:
“What’s your name?” I looked at him:
“Katelin.” I managed to squeak that out. “What’s yours?”
“I’m Nick. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry it had to be like this.” I managed a weak smile. He was finished cleaning out all of the exposed cuts:
“Where else does it hurt?” I bit my lip and began to lift up my shirt, exposing my bruised left ribs. Nick’s face went pale:
“I think you need to go to the hospital.” I shook my head, quickly:
“No. I can’t.” He grabbed my hand:
“They’re not going to make you say anything. Come on. I think your ribs might be broken.” He picked me up again and carried me out to his car.