~ Prologue ~
April 1998
"...in tonight's top story, Nick Carter, 18, of the famed group, The Backstreet Boys, lies in a coma tonight in an Orlando Hospital. Carter was hit head-on in a collison with a tractor-trailer at the intersection of Rawlings and International in downtown Orlando at about 3:30 pm this afternoon. There were no traces of alcohol found in Mr. Carter. The driver of the tractor-trailer, Samuel Spade of Raleigh, North Carolina has been slightly hurt and is undergoing police questioning as we speak. We will keep you up to date on Mr. Carter's prognosis throughout the evening. In other news..."
The young woman dropped to her knees in front of the TV set when she heard Nick's name. She let out an anguished sob. "Oh God no! Not Nick! Please...." She bowed her head and began crying. She looked at the screen again. There was a picture of Nick. She reached out to touch the screen. They said he was in a coma. A coma. Oh God. He could die. She got up, holding onto the wall because her legs were shaking quite badly. She called 411 and asked for the number for Orlando General. She would try that one first. It was closest to International from what she remembered.
"ICU, may I help you?"
"Hi, I'm calling for information on Nick Carter's condition."
"Are you a member of the immediate family?"
"No. I'm a friend."
"I'm sorry Miss. We cannot give out that information."
"Please!" she begged. "I need to know how he is. The TV said that he's in a coma. Is he going to die?"
"Miss, I'm sorry, but like I said..."
"Please! I'm begging you. I love Nick more than anything in the world. I need to know how he is," she sobbed.
The nurse sighed. This was probably another fan. They had been calling ever since the news broadcast had aired. But this young woman sounded different than the others. She was obviously distraught. "He's in a coma."
"I know that. Is he going to die?"
"There's a 90% chance that he won't make it unless he comes out of the coma in 48-72 hours."
The young woman grabbed hold of the counter to steady herself as she felt her knees give way.
"Thank you," she croaked and hung up. She sank to the floor sobbing.
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