Sixty eight. That was the number of wooden slats that lined the ceiling. Justin had counted them numerous times over the past few hours, not knowing what else to do with himself. There was no television in his room, and the closest magazine within his reach was Better Homes and Gardens. It was bullshit. All of it. Justin pounded his fist on the mattress for what seemed like the thousandth time. He wanted out. He wanted out right now. That bitch doctor made him go back out there, even though it had been raining even harder after he changed. She made him go back out there alone. He protested, but she told him that if he didn’t do what he was told he wasn’t going to talk to his mother until next week.

Justin felt he was being treated like a child. He pointed this out as well, but as always, Karen pretended not to hear him. So he wheeled himself back out there. The mud made moving around the stable nearly impossible. His arms were still sore from the heavy force he applied to them. Still, he completed the task, which made him feel a little bit better about the situation. He hadn’t told anybody that of course. He didn’t want Karen or her daughter to think that they had done right by him. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. All that mattered was that the day was over now. It was over, and all he had to do was lie here and think of a way to get out of the mess he was in.

He glanced at his wheelchair. It was resting at his bedside, ready to take on the next mornings activities. He knew that if he could get into that wheelchair, he could go anywhere in the house. He could get to a phone. He could call somebody. Anybody that would listen to him. His mother…his father…one of the guys. It didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was that he got out of here and back to where things made sense. He slid his body into an upright position. Could he do it? He didn’t know. He had never tried. Karen encouraged him each morning to try and get out of bed by himself. He refused to cooperate. He didn’t want her help.

He didn’t want anybody’s help.

Justin knew he was strong enough to haul himself out of the bed and into the chair. His upper body was in great shape. The hours he’d spent in the gym with his personal trainer had toned his body to the point where it would take a long time for his condition to get the best of him. Still, he was frightened. What if he missed and fell on the floor? What if he got hurt? He wouldn’t be able to reach the cord to call for help. He could get hurt worse than he already was. But was that such a bad thing? No. He had already lost his ability to walk. The worst that could happen was he would fall, break his neck, and die.

He didn’t care if he died.

Justin nodded triumphantly. He had to do this. It was the only way he was going to have a shot at getting what he wanted…a ticket out of this place, or a trip to Heaven’s gate. Either way he would win. Slowly, he began to shift his body so his legs would dangle off the side of the bed.

“Do ya know what your doing?” Trace asked, appearing at the foot of the bed.

Justin shrugged. “ ‘Course I do.”

Trace bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “I dunno J. I mean, you’ve never done this before.”

“I need to get outta here,” Justin whispered. “Can’t you understand that?”

Trace laughed out loud. “You don’t know what you need, Justin.”

He glared at Trace. “Get lost.”

Trace pushed himself away from the bed and walked over to Justin’s wheelchair. “Then do it if you’re so damn intent on doin’ it.”

“I can’t do this with you staring at me,” he shot at him.

“So you want me to leave then?”

Justin hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

Trace seemed shocked. “You really do don’t you?”

“Are you deaf?” Justin snapped.

Trace disappeared.

He sighed. He hadn’t meant to be so harsh. Christ…no…He shook his head vigorously. Trace wasn’t real. He didn’t have feelings. There was no reason that he should have felt guilty about driving Trace away. Driving Trace away was good. It gave him a sense of empowerment. It made him feel that he wasn’t going crazy, and that he had control of his emotions. It was definitely a step forward. Probably the first step forward he had taken since the accident. He reached out and unhooked the catheter bag from its place on his bed post, and attached it to his leg as Karen had taught him to do.

Maybe he could take another step right now.

The memory overtook him before he could attempt to try. It was so strong, it caused him to close his eyes and suck in a deep breath. It was happening again. The world he knew was no longer there. Everything had changed. Loud, blaring music was pouring from every direction. There were people. Loads of them, everywhere. It was a club. And as he began to adjust to the sudden change of scenery he realized that it wasn’t just any club. It was Suede. This was his table. His table with the motherlode of Cristal, Cognac, and Jack Daniels laid out across it. The table where every woman in the room longed to sit. The table that every man in the room envied.

A drink. He needed one. He reached out for one of the bottles. He nearly jumped out of his seat when he felt his skin come in contact with it. It was real. He pinched himself. It hurt. What was going on? Had the past few months simply been a fantasy? Had it all been some horrible dream that was finally put to rest?

“Meet Elisha.”

He snapped out of his daze in time to see Trace standing before him. Elisha was with him. Wait…meet Elisha? He smiled. “Meet Elisha?”

“Yeah,” Trace nodded. “She’s from LA. Remember, I told you she was comin‘.”

“But we’ve already met,” Justin informed him. He looked at her. The look on her face was telling him she had never laid eyes on him before. Just like the night they had met for the first time. She hadn’t a clue who he was then either. She had only been interested in who Trace was, and what he had to say. It had angered him. He hadn’t been used to getting the cold shoulder. Trace had always been the one to get that. Later of course, he realized that Trace had been without love for a long time. Too long.

Before Elisha, Trace never had a serious relationship. He was always too busy, calling this magazine…scheduling that photo shoot…keeping his spoiled ass happy. Trace had never taken his own personal life into consideration. It was always about him…his happiness. Justin hated himself for it. He also hated that he tried to make Trace feel guilty for wanting to date Elisha simply because he set his sights on her as well. There was no call for that. Justin knew he could have any woman he wanted. Sometimes he could be so selfish. Like a little boy that didn’t want to share his toys.

“Hey, what‘s your name?” Elisha asked him, her eyes full of curiosity.

“Don’t worry about me,” Justin smiled. “Just go have a good time.”

“What do you mean I should already know?” Elisha replied, with a roll of her eyes. “This is your life long companion?,” she said to Trace.

His smile faded. This wasn’t real, like he had hoped it was. This was like the last time. The time he had relived his horrendous fight with Trace. Once again, he was talking, and nobody could hear him.

“Don’t mind Justin,” Trace snickered. “He’s a little bit cocky every once in a while.”

“Every once in a while?,” Justin gasped. “Try every day.”

“Yes you are,” Trace nodded. “Stop denying it.”

He studied them. He watched the way Trace’s hands hugged Elisha’s hips, and how his lips began to trace a light pattern down her neck. He watched the way her smile brightened as he did so. Justin realized now, for the first time, that he had never stood a chance with the girl. She had fallen for Trace the moment she had laid eyes on him.

They had been a perfect match.

“You don’t need to get an attitude with him just because he wants to have some fun,” Elisha said coldly. “All he probably does is run around like a nut so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

He remembered now. He had been such an asshole on this night. The fact that Elisha hadn’t known who he was had left his ego slightly bruised. In turn, he gave her the cold shoulder, and started to give Trace an attitude about hanging out with her. It was the very reason why it taken Elisha so long to warm up to him after she and Trace started to get really serious.

“J…stop bein’ a dick,” Trace grumbled. “You need to think before you talk sometimes, dude.”

He stared at them. The night this had all taken place, he had been too busy getting snippy and guzzling his liquor to notice the cold look on both their faces. Trace…he looked so sad, so let down. Elisha looked like she wanted to kill him, and she only just met him.

This was the kind of person he was? He hadn’t even realized. He cringed. He was a spoiled, stubborn little baby that threw fits when he didn’t get his way. The only ones brave enough to point this out had been the guys at times, because they knew they could. But Trace never opened his mouth once. He took Justin’s emotions in stride, and learned to put up with them.

What had he put Trace through all those years after he became insanely famous? Why hadn’t Trace tried to pull him down out of the clouds? Maybe he had. He knew it wouldn’t have mattered. He was too caught up in himself to stop and listen to what his friends had to say.

The music and scenery of the club faded away. He watched Trace give Elisha a kiss, and then she faded away too. Now it was dark. Pitch black. And Trace was the only visible thing left. “You see?” he said.

Justin gasped. “Huh?”

“That’s how it was J,” Trace nodded. “For a long time.”

His bottom lip quivered. “I…Trace…”

“Shh,” he put a finger to his lips. “Its too late for that.”

He felt sick. He looked away from him. “I hate myself,” he confessed.

“But you shouldn’t.”

“Look what happened,” he sobbed. “You gave up your life to follow me around. You dropped out of school…you put your life on hold, Trace.” He forced himself to look at his friend again. “And all I did was get you killed.”

“Justin,” Trace smiled. “You gave me more than I could have ever asked for. I had fun, Justin. I had fun with you, the guys…I wouldn‘t change anything about my life if I could do it all over again.”

His bit his bottom lip. “No?”

“Nah, J.” He smiled again.

In an instant, Trace was gone. The familiar surroundings of the bedroom faded in again. He was in the bed, as he had been before. The wheelchair was still where it had been, resting at his bedside. For the first time since the accident, it seemed to be calling out to him, telling him it was time to take that next step. He could do it. He knew it. He knew now that Trace…wherever he was, wasn’t hurting. It seemed crazy that he was taking these visions of his friend seriously. But he didn’t have any proof that they weren’t real. The only thing for which he had proof, was that Trace was happy. He was a happy…whatever he was. It gave him a small portion of the peace of mind he had been searching for.

He was going to get out of here.

Justin gritted his teeth in determination, and grabbed onto the hand loops hanging from the ceiling, dragging his useless lower limbs over the side of the bed. He paused to catch a breath. He had no idea it would have taken so much energy to complete a simple maneuver. The distance between the chair and the bed seemed so much further than it had just moments ago. He wouldn’t give up. By using one hand to hang onto the hand loops above him, and using another to slide himself onto the floor he achieved his goal. Now he was sitting on the floor in front of the chair. This was the hard part.

He needed to pull himself onto that chair. He didn’t know if he could. He already felt exhausted to the point where he knew he could fall asleep right where he was. But he had made it this far. A couple of more pushes and pulls wouldn’t kill him. Using all the energy he could muster, he managed to roll himself onto his stomach, something he had never done before. For a moment, he laid there, lingering in his victory. He was almost there. Cautiously, he dragged his body up to the chair, grabbed onto the arms….he stopped. He couldn’t breathe. He could feel the sweat rolling down his face. He was tired. So tired…

“Don’t stop now,” Trace said, appearing behind the chair. “Look at you. You’re like a regular special Olympian.”

Justin couldn’t help but smile. “Jerk.”

“C‘mon. The phone isn‘t far,” he vanished again.

His wisecrack had given Justin the boost he needed. With a grunt, he pulled himself up and into the chair. He had done it. He sat there, motionless for several minutes. Partially to catch his breath and partially in shock. He wasn’t helpless anymore. He believed it now, even though Karen had been drilling that phrase into his mind since the day he had arrived. He wasn’t helpless.

And he was going to get out.