Remember Me This Way

Chapter FIve

When Nick awoke, he jerked around, confused at where he was. Bitterly, he realized that would one day become a common feeling for him. He screamed in frustration, climbing out of the car he knew he slept in the night before. It hadn't been for long, as the sun was only beginning to rise, casting a serene view over the ocean waters that he loved so much. He wondered how long he'd remember how much he loved it. Or how long till he forgot how to surf? When would it turn from random small things like misplacing items, to his entire life?

When he was on break, this was his favorite time of day. Early, early morning was the best time to surf. The fact no one really noticed him at that time of day was also a random bonus he always enjoyed. Now it was the first day towards the end of his life. A life he worked so hard for, a life where he wanted to make his mark before he left it. For most, what he had done thus far would be a satisfactory legacy. For Nick, it wasn't enough. He wanted to reach more people as a musician, in the group and solo. He wanted to change it, change music in a more dramatic way.

He wanted to be remembered.

Now he'd be remembered, but nothing like he wanted. He'd be remembered for the nearly mindless Nick he'd become before he died, rather than what he did during his life. His mind flashed through his life thus far. His chaotic childhood, to his even crazier teenage years when fame had hit. Adulthood, where he'd lost himself for about a decade. He'd thought he had plenty of time to settle down, despite how he wanted to give up that dream. But now, he would never be given the chance it seemed.

He screamed, slamming his car door shut. A jogger gave him an odd look as he passed. Nick simply flipped him off. What did anything matter? Why care what anybody thought of him anymore? Once he used to care so much, tried so hard to be what the media wanted of him. All for naught, really. He glanced at his car; the sea green paint of the Lexus shimmered in the rising sun. He caught sight of his reflection in the car window and stared at it. Nick's eyes were bloodshot, and puffy from the tears that came the night before, his hair was sticking out all over. His face was tired and seemed to have aged five years in less than twenty-four hours.

His reflection. One day, it would mean nothing.

He kicked the car, unable to release the storm that raged inside him.

"I don't give a damn about you anymore! You're just a fuckup! That's all you'll ever fucking be! A fuckup!" Nick cried, and in blind fury his fist flew at the window.

The window that was supposed to be shatterproof gave way in a piercing crack, his punch going through it. Several shards fell upon the ground around him. Most of the glass stayed in place, spider web lines sparkled in the sunlight as his arm throbbed with sudden agony. His arm was now stuck in the window. Crimson splashes could be seen along his arm, the window, and rained upon the cream colored seat in steady drops. He tried to move his arm, and found the pain to increase when he did.

'Maybe I should just try pulling it out.' As soon as the thought appeared, so did the fear of doing more damage to his sliced up arm, with pieces of glass around it stabbing still. He was furious at himself, at his stupidity, at his innate ability to take any situation and make it worse by any means possible. His foot slammed into his car door, this time causing the alarm to go off. Why it went off when it wasn't set, and why it didn't go off when he broke the window, he had no idea. But it fit with the mess he was forced to call his life.

His cell phone rang as the tears fell again, not from the pain, simply frustration. "What?!" He demanded the moment he answered.

"Whoa...Nick where are you? What's going on, why's a car alarm going off? I've been trying to reach you all night."

The rescheduled meeting. It was supposed to have been last night, after the basketball game so that Brian and Nick could watch it. Nick however, had gotten the call and forgot about it. He hadn't even bothered to check if anyone was calling him last night. He wondered how many missed calls he had. Who had actually cared that he'd vanished for the night. He thought about the album, how he'd been so proud of what they'd come up with. Now, he felt nothing for it. Nothing for the effort put into the music, nothing for the release that was looming away set to come out in mid August.