DAY 1
"I'm sober, I swear. I have been for the past three years." Ever since I found out the horrible secret five years ago actually. I control the urge to stomp on my feet and walk away, knowing that it will only support Cash's theory. "Just because I haven't slept for the last three days doesn't mean I have been drinking." As soon as I say it, I realize that statement makes no sense at all. How will I stay awake if I'm so fucking drunk that the only option is to pass out? Still, not the point.
"Let me recount then." Cash glares at me and it is only the pity that hides behind it that makes me stop. After what happened… after what I did to him, it is the least I can do. Even if he does get on my last nerve. "Four days ago, you call me to revive your music career with another album after thirty months of no communication. Thirty months after you publicly announced that you were done with everything of this world. You gave me so many sleepless nights that my own wife suggested sleeping pills and therapy. And now you tell me that you have been awake for the last seventy-two hours?" He lets out a loud exhale and only the knowledge that it would not be good to prod him right now makes me stop from correcting him that it has been seventy eight hours since I last slept. Fuck, I do need to sleep.
Unfortunately for me, a yawn follows that thought and Cash's gaze follows it as if it will tell him the location of the Atlantis. "Yes, I yawned. I need sleep. I will sleep. Now would you look at the lyrics I came up with?" I prod with the very papers that started this fight today. I fake swaying a little and he takes the bait. His concern for me is the only thing that makes him finally give up and snatch the papers from me. I have my favourite, and most invested, one on top for him to see, titled 'Begin Again'.
His eyebrows shoots up as he reads them and admiration sets in. He opens his mouth to speak but he freezes in shock at something he sees. I don't know what exactly but I have quite an idea when black spots fill my vision and I hear a loud thud. There is a moment of brilliant thinking in my head (fuck!) before I pass out.
*****
5 years ago...
"Jude? Where are you? It's been a month since you were last seen!" Cash calls out somewhere from my apartment but my mind is filled in such a deep haze that nothing seems to penetrate. I know I'm in my house but I hadn't that it has been a month since Logan tore me apart and left me bleeding in that cemetery. God, I'm remembering. This stuff is shitty. I need another hit.
"God, what is that smell? Have you - Jude!" Cash screams so loudly that I drop whatever-the-fuck-it-is. I try to look around and being conscious enough, I wince at the sight. My bedroom is a mess. Clothes thrown around, broken glass littering the floor, even my precious vinyl records lay broken all around me. And I stink. Badly. As if there was an event of mass shitting all over me. I give him a careless smile, though from the numbness of my face and the concern in his eyes, it wasn't such a good job. "What the hell are you doing?"
Before I can respond, and I'm not really sure I can, he drags me up and pulls me into the bathroom. He opens the door and my mind has only enough time to say Oh shit! Before he freezes. And then his grip on my arm hardens so badly that I suspect I might lose that limb. Just like how I lost the two pieces of my heart. Even the stray thought causes so much pain that I don't feel his arm anymore. I look over his shoulder and even I'm surprised and disgusted by the sight. I practically opened my own drug lab in the bathroom. Used and new syringes are thrown around carelessly while that drug, whatever it was, lies in enough quantity that justifies the one thousand grand cost of the entire pile. "You are going to rehab right this instant." His voice is filled with so much anger that I flinch. But then the thought of rehab reminds me of drinking and how I haven't even touched alcohol since I found out the truth. And then only three words go through my mind then.
"He called you."
It would be eighteen months later in the asylum that Cash would reveal that I got psychotic at the mention of rehab. I broke his arm and two of his ribs. I gave him a concussion by knocking him against the wall. I bloodied my feet when I ran bare feet over all those broken pieces of glass and vinyl. And that I screamed, "He called me. I deserve this!" all the time. I didn't stop screaming in my hoarse voice until I had to be sedated like a wild animal.
And the revelation would heal my memories of those moments, giving me nightmares for the next six months to work through along with my other demons.
*****
DAY 3
I hear the beeping noise before anything else penetrates. As soon as my subconscious acknowledges it, a barrage of sensations fill me while the memories hit me. The smell of disinfectants, the paper-thin cover on me and the way too fluffy pillow below me hit me too close to my vulnerable part. Four years ago, when I finally somehow woke up from the zombie state of being either comatose or psychotic, I was in a hospital bed too. And the panic that had gripped me then grips me again. And then I hear screams and wonder who else is suffering with me. "Jude, focus! It's me! Cash! Stop screaming!" He screams and it finally gets to me that I'm screaming and thrashing around. And that I'm not restrained into my bed like last time.
Tears of betrayal flow down my cheeks, even though he hasn't betrayed me ever, as I look at him. Sadness and concern for me has aged him years. He's nearly bald now. If I were in a better mood, I would've pointed out that only he can rock baldness but the only word that comes out is why. And I'm ashamed of what it carries with it. Question. Plea. Distress. And a whole lot of emotions I won't analyse, despite what the shrink told me. Some emotions are better left unacknowledged.
"I'm sorry Jude. I knew you wouldn't respond well to hospital beds after that time but you didn't see what I saw. All the progress you had made since … that time was unravelling." The unspoken words 'your episode' hang in the air between us. Then, in a move that is anything but smooth, he speaks, "Your work was brilliant though. I truly missed working with someone of your talent. It has been a long time since…" His voice trails off as new, and more painful, words now become the giant elephant in the room.
The past and its wounds never scar, forget about them healing, do they? Even now the reference to them and those days drives all the air out of my chest. It's like missing a limb or something whenever they cross my minds. And having gone through all that, it seems like I have always been hurting. But it isn't as intense as it was back then. And for that I'm grateful to this one person who, despite knowing the truth and my role in it, keeps trying not to poke in my countless wounds.
So this time when I smile at him, I know it's sincere. He has the opposite reaction though. "Oh Jude! I was so worried about you." His voice is strong, though hoarse, but I can understand how close he is to the edge. Here I am trying to be strong and he goes fucking sentimental at me. You, my friend, are a leech on my strength. I mentally taunt him. On the outside though, I have no choice. "Go home, Cash. I'll stay here. But only for tonight. And next time you even bring me to the driveway of a fucking hospital, I will break your jaw. Go now. I need to rest before we start work tomorrow."
I wait until I hear the door close before letting the tears, which I had been holding in so long, flow as I let the true extent of my fear slowly ebb away. It took hours but by the time, I did fall asleep, I felt scrubbed raw from within.
Not completely clean but clean enough to begin again.
*****
Two and a half years ago…
Logan never realized but the barrier that held my guilt from breaking me apart was broken by his revelation. And once all that guilt broke me apart, there had been nothing to piece me back together again. But my band, my family came through.
They bled while they pleaded with me to come back but they didn't stop. Not once in the year I was psychotic, they showed any sign of giving up on me. And only for them, I came back. It wasn't easy. Nor was the freedom.
These six months of my freedom had been anything but that. Every second I now wished to be out of the fucking spotlight but the paparazzi kept chasing me, shoving it all right back to my face. Sometime after my breakdown, a still vengeful Sarah released the recording containing the final conversation between Cameron Harrison and Jude Turner. I was instantly classified as 'the bitch'. But I didn't begrudge her that. At least that was what I said myself as I sat here in the park in L.A.
It was a rare moment of silence. But that doesn't mean it was comfortable. People kept walking by, staring at me in surprise when they caught sight of me and then glaring until I was out of their line of sight. Even kids glared at me. The hostilities that I faced everyday made me bristle but I didn't snap. For now. Because the shrink's words kept echoing in my head. You didn't mind them when they loved you. That was a time of judging from what they knew. Why do you judge yourself on what they think of you now just because it isn't pleasant?
As I felt even a new born glare at me, though I suspect that was just my mind playing tricks on me, I repeat the answer I hadn't spoken aloud. Because this time, it's about them. The two people who stole my heart and none of us ever knew. It was kind of disturbing to admit but only therapy for my psychosis helped me realize that I had walked away in cowardice because I had no choice. I had, and I suspect I still do, loved them both and didn't want to break their own fragile relationship.
The moment of solitude didn't last though and soon enough, one of the pesky bugs had found me. "Tell the public, Ms Turner, what do you plan to do now? Are you going back to the asylum to stay there? Or would you find some other rivals of Red Riot to make them kill themselves? And what about your music? I have sources that tell me, in fact, heads of music corporations have been officially announcing that they won't be willing to sign you under any condition. So what do you plan now, Ms Turner?" What is he? Doesn't he need to breathe? That's all my mind can think of before his words, though they are still coming and I have to tune him out, penetrate.
No one was willing to support me now. There was no one willing to have my back. Before I know it, I'm out of that bench and running back to my apartment. Cash would back me. My mind points out but I reject the thought. He must have felt sorry for me when he showed me his support, before he knew. But even if he would've supported me, I couldn't risk his livelihood, his passion, for my own name that was now worse than a pile of shit.
A part of me, still not believing that paps' words, scours the internet for the truth.
"AM Corporation disavows Jude Turner permanently."
"Musix Entertainment Company declares no offers to be available for the disgraced Jude Turner."
"UAE Records announces no contracts for Jude Turner."
The list was long but I suppose that with so many music corporations, it had to be a long list. Feeling frustrated and lost, I open my mail. All the new ones are spam and I'm just about to clear them all out when I realize that one isn't. I open Keely's message with quite a lot of fear. She was one of the few people in this industry who had recovered after nearly losing everything and were all-time favorites. Barely anyone knew that she was also one of my idols. If she too took that route… My mind refused to finish the thought and read her message.
"I wouldn't do this for anyone else so be glad that you were on my favourites list before that recording was leaked. I'm angry at your choice though with you drunk, there is no way the entire fault lies on you. Things have been so tense here that though we want to, we can't risk others' livelihood for yours, Turner.
Seth and I both agree that you should get out for now and lie low for some time, at least until this media frenzy calms down a bit. This won't ever go away though. I'm sorry for that. Take care. When you return, we will take you in.
Keely Vaughn"
Ain't that the truth? My mind pointed out and I agreed with it. My reply was short and straight to the point. I'll hold you to that. My passion was already lost and I had no direction. There was no other choice. I had to disappear.
*****
Day 55
There's no place to hide now. It's time to come out. The pep talk doesn't really work but with no time left to me, I decide to pretend as if it did. With only few new actual musicians coming out nowadays, plus the intense media attention my name still gathered, my comeback was quite simple.
"Welcome back to 'The Charles Archer Show'! My surprise guest for tonight is most definitely a surprise from the past. Not even most of the folk backstage know about this guest's presence tonight." I hear him hand out hints to my identity and the atmosphere of shock and anticipation soon becomes so heavy that it would be torture for Archer to delay any longer. And so he announces my name. "So please welcome back into the music stage after an exile of two and a half years, Jude Turner!"
I'm pretty sure I remember that to be a cue for the stage public to start clapping but the silence is so deep that I am pretty sure my near silent footsteps echo. What was I thinking? The question is half-hearted though because I can feel, even if because of shock, a significant lack of the glares or hatred.
The rest of the show is very subdued and I can see from the tense shoulders that Archer is wondering if he didn't just make the biggest, and the fatal, mistake of his career by accepting Cash's invitation to have me on the show.
Making small talk has never been so hard. I go through all of it in a blur, nervous in anticipation of performing after so long. So when Archer asks if I have been working on something new, I almost say no before realizing what he asked. That's my cue. And in my hurriedness, I stand up before saying my words. He looks up at me in shock as I hastily answer. "It would be better to just show than tell."
Hastily a mic is arranged and a guitar handed over by the staff, who seem to still be in the shock of my return. Closing my eyes, I think of the two brothers who have inspired this song before I begin the title song of the album I have been working on in UAE with bare fuss. There is no way of arranging a band instantly and I'm glad I had the acoustic version prepared.
"All the lies we tell
All the things we hide
What happens now
When it all comes out?
When the truth burns deep
Leaves us bleeding apart
Oh, how I wish
We could just restart.
Begin Again!
That's all they tell
As if all of it
Didn't tear us apart.
Begin Again!
It's so hard what they ask
To forget what we did
To give up what we had.
Night sky stares down
At me on the sand
And the sun burns as
I teach that song.
Broken dreams
Broken us
Nothing's what we achieved
Everything is all we lost.
Begin Again!
It's all they tell
When all that we did
Cannot be undone
Begin Again!
It's what they want
As if to start afresh
Would undo it all
And now here I remain
Standing all alone
No one's in sight
Nor there's any sound.
With pieces of me,
I greet the dawn
With memories of us
Warm in my heart
Begin Again!
For you I shall
Never again will I
Give you my back.
Begin again!
For it's what he'd want
To accept what's the past
To finally move on.
I begin again
For the sake of what I lost
Held together by
The love that we had
I begin again
But I'll never let you go
All the good that I have
Is what you two taught."
There is absolutely dead silence in the stage when I end the song. I wipe away the lone tear that did escape in the middle of the song but otherwise don't break the silence. And then there is clapping from somewhere in the crowd. Next thing I know is that the entire studio is clapping. I return back to my seat, realizing it for what it was. My music might make me welcome here for now but my past isn't forgotten. And do I really want it to be?
It would be the next day when I watched the show and realized that there was no mention of Logan. Where is he? The question isn't hard to be answered. After my breakdown, he became even more of a recluse than he was ever before and hadn't released an album since. There was more on different things but only one thing caught my attention. One photo. And it was a sharp hit to the gut to stare at the woman with him. Then I read the caption, and realized it was even worse.
Logan Harrison spotted with dead brother Cameron Harrison's ex fiancée Arabella Park.
*****
Day 60 (Logan)
Anger burns within me but I'm not sure that who it is really towards. A part of me points out that I have justifiable cause to direct it to Jude but then another part of me, which sounds suspiciously like Arie, says that it is all on me.
I had felt so smug about hurting her that day in the cemetery, not realizing I was making the same mistakes she did. And then, when the news of her breakdown hit me - and it came through a bugger reporter - I almost broke apart in the realization of what I had done. Arie may not have had any cause to be associated with me anymore but out of respect to the one person we had in common, she came when I called.
And why did I call her? My own brain taunts me as the memories of my action haunt me. When she did come, I had practically begged her to make it clear that I hadn't done the same thing to Jude that she had done to me and Cam. And her response? "No, Logan, you didn't do the same thing she did. She did it to protect her heart. You did just to inflict pain. Like you did with me and Cam. You would've been right, I suppose, but that was not the way to do it. And he was your brother!"
But something about me convinced her about me enough to be my own shrink. It was a nice addition to her modelling skills. Showed she had the brains good enough to match her looks. And now, after five years, whatever pieces she had helped me put together were once again on the verge of falling apart. Why can't you leave me alone, Jude? What is the meaning of this?
The media may never let her forget what she did but right now, the fickle group has her back. The praise that she receives right now is enough for everyone to welcome her back in the music scene. From the list of music corporations now offering her a contract, it's obvious that she has managed to bounce back.
Arie has helped me realize that what happened wasn't completely Jude's fault. It was mine and Cam's as well, for never realizing how much he was hurting others. We never talked things out, never shared our sorrows, and though we occasionally were brothers, we wasted our time together more as arguing pricks than anything else. And that will be a guilt I cannot shed. "How did things turn out like this brother?"I ask out aloud, as I usually do now, as if he would hear me and answer.
But like always, there's no response. Only silence. Always this bloody deafening silence. I turn my eyes back to the screen as well and let myself wonder. Her newest title, 'Begin Again', is already famous enough that it can knock out the Billboard topper the instant it is released. She has truly come so far.
"Cam, it looks like our Jude truly has succeeded in her mission. She has begun to live again." My mind wanders to the last time I saw her. It was as much comforting as much it had hurt. She hadn't snapped out of her mental prison then.
*****
Four years and eight months ago… (Logan)
"Bloody idiot! What the hell are you doing there Logan? You need to get out before you are recognized? This would undo everything." Arie yells at me through the phone. She hasn't yet realized that it already is too late. I'm here only for my punishment, nothing else.
"Sir, you need to leave your phone here." The orderly points out and I surrender my phone and any other objects I possess that may be used as a weapon. I would've grumbled but I understand his concern. Talk about a déjà vu. Once again I walk down the corridors of a nuthouse, even though I'm not the patient this time. Then why do I feel like one? Why do I feel that a doctor would jump out of a corner and inject me with a sedative to throw me in one of these locked rooms in straitjacket?
The entire walk to her room is filled with such paranoid thoughts and I'm struck by what Cam had told me once. "Just because you feel paranoia, doesn't mean there isn't someone really after you." It is as if his voice whispers in my ears and I shiver. Control yourself. Let this orderly even guess that I hear my dead brother and I will be joining her.
I don't really care all the things he does at her doors and only snap back to the moment when he opens the door. And I'm finally afraid of what I might see inside. Pull yourself together. You were the one who wanted to see her. Cam's voice whispers in my ear again and wearing false bravado, I confidently enter the room. And instantly flinch back at the sight within.
She just sits there at her bed, staring off into the unknown. Unaware of what she's in. Her hair looks dead, no longer holding its captivating brilliance. And her eyes are less prominent than the marks beneath them. It is as if her eye sockets have sunk within. Her entire body lies still in her position, as if she is a statue. It's so unlike her that I suspect that she's dead. Her eyes are like empty voids that would suck everything you have and leave nothing behind and it scares me.
The orderly leaves with the instruction to raise alarm if she loses her mind. He doesn't realize that the horror surrounding her already proves how badly she has lost it. Because while her body resembles a malnourished doll, her room resembles the stuff my nightmares shall be fed with.
There's blood everywhere. On the ground. On the walls. Everywhere. But this isn't senseless blood splattered. Even that would have been a much comfortable sight. No, the sight all around me is a horrible one. The blood is her ink and all she has written around are quotes, song lyrics and some messages. Messages to both me and Cam.
I feel my soul shiver as I read them all and feel as if she's speaking them to me. "Cam, I loved you. I'm sorry it wasn't enough." "Logan, you had my heart. And you shattered it into pieces. I'm sorry." "I wish I was strong enough to choose. When I backed off from choosing either of you, I thought I was saving your relationship."
Everything is a mess of only these messages. The lyrics have this messages. The quotes express how scared she was, how much she was hoping to do go, how much it hurt her every single moment. And I bleed with every message I read.
I want to run. I want to get so far away from this that I never have to remember this again. But now that I understand her, I owe her this. I owe them both to read her messages to us. And as I read them one by one, I burn them on my mind.
Once I'm done with that, I turn to her. She doesn't get out of her blank gaze even as I get closer or when I crouch close to her. "Jude?" I gently prod her but there's no response. It isn't my position anymore but I hope that hearing this would help her. "I understand now and if you can hear me, understand me, I want you to know I forgive you. It wasn't all your fault."
It is as if something clicks within her as she hears the word fault and the blank gaze is replaced by a slightly disoriented one. "Jude?" I prod her again, hopeful of having her back. Then why do you feel guilt at not being able to repeat what you just said? Her frenzied gaze moves around until it lands on me and there is a small moment of silence. And then she erupts.
"I'm sorry!" She screeches. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt him. I didn't mean to hurt you." I fall back in fear and surprise and she lunges, probably to get down on my feet. But sound of rustling of chains comes and a tortured scream erupts from within her. And then I notice her binds.
Both her arms and her legs are bound in chains. They hold her from harming herself or others, I realize, as I spot the bandages beneath those chains. And the painful scene in front of me burns into my eyes as well. Jude Turner is lost in her own mind now. It is this realization that finally makes me raise alarm and get the orderlies. They immediately kick me out of the room.
But it isn't far enough to escape her screams or her tortured sobs.
*****
Day 86 (Logan)
With no expectation of you being somewhere, even the most weakest of disguises is very effective. Arie's words bounce around in my head as I sit in the coffee shop very close to her apartment. Remember, don't get stalker-like. Wait for her to recognize you and come to you.
With the coffee addiction of hers, she was bound to get in here. And once she entered, there was no doubt she would've missed me in plain sight. In my staring at the door to be prepared for the moment she recognizes me, I nearly miss her walking right past it. What the hell?
Alright, abandon the plan. Get to her. I run out the door before anyone has a chance to realize what just happened. In fact, even I take some time, when I see her freeze in her steps, to realize that I also loudly screamed her name.
I take the baseball cap off and wait for her to turn. Slowly, she turns around, clearly fearful of hallucinating again. But when our eyes meet and her face drains of all colour, I realize I misjudged her again. She wished that she was hallucinating.
"Hey." Seriously, of all the times I could have been shy, I chose this moment? "How you've been?" Seriously. What is this nonsense coming out of me?
"What're you doing here?" She hisses at me but there is a thread of fear in her voice as well. It hurts to have been the one to cause this to her.
"To talk. To apologize." Her eyes widens before she can control it and I just know that she's about to refuse when I quickly add. "Walk with me? Please?" I thank whatever made me say please because that's what finally convinces her.
We walk with a tense silence between us while people who recognize us stare in shock. I suppose there would be quite a lot of clips out within the next few minutes of the two of us together. We get to a quiet area in the park she led the way towards before her silence breaks. "Alright, we're in private. Now talk." That's a great beginning. Not.
"First tell me why you didn't stop at that coffee shop." That was not how this was meant to begin.
Her puzzled look is cute. Anything other than that blank or crazed look is cute, in fact. "I am trying to quit. Not that knowing that is any of your business. Now talk about what you came for. You do have a girlfriend to get back to."
Wait, what? I repeat that to her and she gives me a 'you're insufferable' look. "Arabella Park? Ring any bells?" I can't help it. I laugh as her words and the emotions behind it penetrate. She's jealous.
"Arie is just a friend, Turner. And she's also my personal shrink. Nothing more. Nothing else. She's a big fan of Begin Again." She doesn't look like she believes me but that's alright. I will convince her on that later. It's time to get to what I really came here for.
Here we go. "I'm sorry. It took me a lot of time to understand this but I now know it wasn't only your fault. I and Cam were just as guiltier as you were and in my anger, I lashed out at you. I-" I abruptly stop when she raises a hand.
"Is this some kind of twisted game?" She asks angrily and I hear the hope and fear mixed in as well. "To now mess with my head now that I finally seem to be healing? Because if it is then -" Her words stop in between when I finally do what I always should have.
I kiss her.
Thank you Cam. You were right. The fastest way to shut a girl up is to kiss her. She resists, or at least tries to. But soon her hands are exploring me and I tighten my arms around her. The kiss is a long and deep one and I'm glad we're in private when we have to break off for air. And finally, I get a sight I was yearning for so deeply.
"What the fuck was that, Harrison?"
Oh yeah, Jude Turner is back. And this time, she will be mine.
*****
What the hell? First he apologizes, then he kisses me and now he's smiling like crazy. What is going on here? This better not be a prank video because I will skin him alive then. Now that would be a video to watch.
And instead of responding, he kisses me again. I try to fight. But my body gives under the feel of him. Just like it always did. And just like that, realization hits me.
Oh hell!