Prologue

 

I look at my friend one last time before I boarded the plane.  Was I making the wrong mistake by going?  Or would I be making a bigger mistake if I stayed?

 

The choice was mine.  They gave me two options.  One, I could stay in the light and misery of fame, or two, I could leave them, my love for singing and go off to where ever I wanted.  Can you guess what I picked?

 

I waved to Brian, but he didn’t wave back.  I figured he was pissed at my decision.  I turned around and walked towards the plane terminal. I turned back around to find Brian was gone.

 

A few tears blurred my vision as I turned back around and boarded the plane.  I put my bags in the overhead compartment.  I sat down in my seat and slouched all the way down.

 

I didn’t know where I was going or what would happen when I got there.  They would be telling the fans today that I left the group. I looked at my watch.  The press conference just started.  It would be all over TV and the radio.

 

I started to think about when I first got sick of the fame, the fans, my friends.  When I started to get sick of everything and everybody.

 

I felt my eyes start to get heavy as I fell into a deep sleep.   I woke up to a stewardess looking at me.

 

“Mr. Carter it’s time to get up,” I heard her say.

 

“Thank you,” I said as I got up and grabbed my bags from the overhead compartment. I walked towards the exit of the plane and into the terminal.  I walked out of the terminal and into the lobby of the airport.  I stopped as I saw what I thought I got away from.

 

The press and the fans, all the fans were crying and the press was standing there with recorders in their hands.  I started to walk quickly through the crowd of people. Questions, coming from every direction.  Screams of sadness hitting me like a slap in the face.

 

 I just ignored all their questions.  The thing that I paid most attention to was the screams.  How sad they sounded.  Did the fans really miss me?  After I thought all they wanted was a stupid autograph and the when they were happy, talk about me and hurt my feelings. 

 

I blocked everything out of my mind and raced through the lobby like a speeding bullet.  I didn’t expect a limo to pick me up anymore so I put up my hand, as best as I could cause all my bags, to hail a taxi. 

 

A taxi stopped just in time as the press and fans started to come out of the lobby of the airport.  I got in quickly placing my bags on the back seat next to where I sat.  The taxi driver started to pull away.

 

 “Where to, sir?” The taxi driver asked me as he looked in his rear view mirror.

 

“220 River View Drive,” I said as I looked back at the crying fans. I looked until I couldn’t see them anymore and turned back around.

 

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi driver pulled up in front of my house.

 

“Thank you,” I said as I paid him his money.  He counted the money as I got out and grabbed my bags and he drove away.

 

I walked up to my big gate and put in the code numbers.  In matter of seconds I saw it open.  I walked through and it closed.

 

I walked up to the door and put down my bags, trying to find my key in my book bag.  I started to remember the sound of the fans cries as I walked well actually almost ran through the airport.

 

I found my key and unlocked my door.  I opened it, picked up my bags and walked into my house.  I looked around to notice know one was home.

 

“Thank God,” I thought as I walked up the stairs and into my room.  I dropped my bags by my closet door and plopped down on my bed.  Glad I finally got away from everything and everyone.  Or did I really make the wrong mistake? I thought as I looked at the ceiling for twenty minutes, then finally falling asleep.