With (NO) love, Tyler-Jane

HOUR ONE

"Did he kill her?"

Jeff had been pacing around the living room this entire time and finally stopped moving once he heard my question. "No," he answered quickly. "At least, not in the way he thinks he did."

"In what way did he kill her then?"

Jeff looked down at his phone and acted as if he hadn't heard me.

"I think I have a right to know."

He scoffed. "You have a right to nothing. May I remind you why you're even here in the first place?"

"Because you know my value," I spat back as I got up from the couch. "How do you think he would react if he got out of treatment and I wasn't here anymore? Do you honestly think he would take it well enough to go perform on the tour you've been planning for the past few months?"

The muscles in his jaw tensed at the sound of my words. He knew I had a point and that felt really fucking good at this moment.

"Well, when he's all better in two weeks, why don't you ask him that yourself?"

"Six weeks."

Jeff took a step towards me. "Excuse me?"

"He needs six weeks."

"That just isn't possible-"

"Six weeks in an actual facility. Two weeks to readjust being home. A lightened performance schedule until the end of the year. And you have to answer my questions now. Or I walk."

"Are you really trying to bargain with me right now?"

Separated by only a few inches, the tension in the air grew thick. "I'm not bargaining - I'm telling you how it's going to be. Think of how much damage I could do to your little brand with everything I now know. I'm sure the press would have a fucking field day over it."

"Do you really expect me to think you would hurt him like that?"

I narrowed my eyes at the man in front of me. "Do you really want to risk it?"

"Fine," he gritted through his teeth. "You got what you want. Happy?"

A rush of satisfaction flew through me, yet I forced myself to keep it all inside, not wanting to break the solid poker face I had been able to achieve this entire time. "Almost," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "I still need my answers."

"You have five minutes to ask your questions and then we are done here." Jeff held up his watch and started the timer. "Go."

"Did he kill her?"

"You already asked me that."

"You said not in the way he thinks he did. So, how did he then?"

Jeff stayed silent, appearing lost in thought as he looked to the side. Or, maybe he was only trying to waste the precious time I had on the clock.

"I want my time back," I snapped.

"I'm thinking of how to answer you."

"What if you do that for every fucking question? How do I know-"

Jeff stopped the timer and tossed his watch onto the table. "There. Problem solved. Happy?" He mumbled something incoherent under his breath before letting out an annoyed sigh. "I'm sure you can find out how she died in the police report just like everyone else. I wasn't in the room when it happened."

"That's not a fucking answer."

"Alright, I know she didn't have any marks on her neck or blood dripping down her face. Does that answer it for you?"

"How do you know about it then?" I paused, furrowing my brow as I spoke out loud, "Because you were there after it happened weren't you?"

Jeff stayed silent.

"Is he not in jail because you fixed it for him?"

He continued to not utter a word as his stoic expression returned. His lack of response was the answer I needed.

"How did you even know him then?"

"What?"

"Carter said you became his manager after he left. So, how did you know him while he was in the band?"

"I was brought on to do... image consulting."

I raised a brow at the way he answered. "Is that actually what you did?"

"That's what it says in the books."

"Why were you brought on to be a so-called image consultant then?"

"There were some things they didn't want out in the public. I made sure they didn't see the light of day."

"Like his drug use?"

Jeff cleared his throat. "That was one thing, yes." As a brief silence fell over the two of us, he asked, "Are we done here now? I'm sure it's been five minutes."

I followed his movements, watching as he walked over to the table and picked up his watch. "Do you hold this over his head or something?"

"Excuse me?" he spat, turning back towards my direction.

"I just can't imagine any other reason he would want someone like you to be his manager."

It was clear my comment had pissed him off by the way he stalked back over to me, seething as he responded, "Carter asked me to be his manager because I was the only one that saw something wrong with how they were treating those boys and didn't just keep my mouth shut and ignore it like everyone else. I always fixed the shit some entitled star did on their own; not something that was caused by their own management. It took me two years to get him out of a contract where he basically signed his life away... and it was a fucking miracle I got him out. Do you really think I would spend all that time, effort, and money just in the hopes that it would pull it off and hang some shit like that over his head? I've got a lot more shit in the fucking vault than some girl he was sleeping with ending up dead, sweetheart."

"So you only picked Carter as your golden boy to save from that situation?"

Jeff dropped his voice to a calmer tone than how he had previously been speaking, "I offered to help all of them but they said no." He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Now, are we done here because I've got to call his rehab facility and fucking book him in for four extra weeks."

Without another word, Jeff turned and headed towards the exit.

"Was that the only time you fixed something for him?"

Jeff stopped as he reached the door and turned around. Meeting my glance, I noticed an evil grin curve onto his lips. "No."

DAY ONE

"Jeff called," Hank said from where he stood in the doorway of my bedroom. "They just got him checked in."

I hummed some type of response as I rested my forehead against the glass of the window.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

Hank sat down on the opposite side of the bench. "You don't have to lie to me."

"What else am I supposed to say?" I whispered, keeping my eyes fixated on the dying flower I spotted in the grass. "If I tell you how I'm honestly feeling, you're going to think you have to lock me up in one of those places too."

"TJ, if you need help or someone to talk to-"

"I'm fine. I just want to be alone right now."

DAY FOUR

"I brought you some toast." Weston put the plate down on my side table. "Do you want to try getting out of bed today?"

I pulled the covers over my head. "No."

DAY SEVEN

"Are you sure you're okay with the upcoming schedule?"

"Yes, Hank," I said, forcing a smile as I tossed clothes into a bag.

"Okay, but if you-"

"Hank, stop," I interrupted as I met his glance. "I appreciate it, really. But I'm better now. I only needed a couple of days."

He turned his head and looked down the hallway before he took a step further into my room. "Are you going to tell them what's going on?"

"It's not my story to tell."

DAY THIRTEEN

Don't do it, TJ, the annoying voice inside my head said, Just close your computer and you can forget about ever wanting to look.

Unfortunately for the little voice in my head, I was never good at listening to it. Pushing it to the back of my mind it was a skill I had mastered years ago. And after every time I ignored it, I always ended up wishing I only listened to it, to begin with.

And yet, while remembering that fact, I still opened a search window and began typing. It took a few attempts at using key terms and sifting through multiple pages of results before I finally found one that caught my eye.

LONDON NEWS: MODEL, 21, FOUND DEAD IN HOTEL. POLICE RULE NO FOUL PLAY.

I read over the article a handful of times. It was a fast read considering how short it was due to the lack of information. Jeff was clearly good at his job; I wasn't even able to find her name. All I was able to spot was one reference to The Historian Hotel and in an instant, I could feel a knot form in my stomach. This was definitely about her death; the date, the hotel... those two things, although small in the amount of evidence, matched up perfectly.

A suggested article at the bottom of the page caught my eye.

LONDON NEWS: 5KINGS PERFORM 2 SOLD-OUT SHOWS AT WEMBLEY STADIUM

And when my eyes fell on the date it was written, only one realization came to mind. Annabelle died in the early hours of that morning, and Carter went on to perform later that night.

DAY EIGHTEEN

"I'm so glad I can finally hear your voice. I miss you so much."

For the first time in weeks, I could feel a smile curve onto my lips. "I miss you too."

"I'm so sorry for what I put you through, baby."

"Carter, don't."

"But I need you to know-"

"I do know," I said quickly, cutting him off. "All that matters to me is that you get better. That's all I care about - what's past is past."

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

"How are you feeling?"

"I had a good week, so I'm doing alright. I still miss not waking up to you every morning."

"Yeah, it's fucking weird still for me too."

"I wanted to ask you about it first, but I'm halfway done with my treatment and I was thinking of maybe doing my last four weeks at home."

I flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and rubbed it out with the bottom of my shoe. "So, leaving Malibu and doing it out of LA?"

"No," Carter said quickly, allowing for a beat of silence to linger into the territory of uncomfortable grounds. "I mean going home to Seattle."

"Oh."

"But, that's why I wanted to ask you about it first - see how you felt before I made any decisions."

I opened the carton and pulled out another stick. "If you want to be closer to home, I think you should do it."

"I know this might impact the chance of you being able to come and visit me now,"

"That's okay," I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to shed a single tear while still on the phone with him. "I have to go get ready now, but I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Good luck tonight, baby."

"Thanks," I said, before mumbling out a quick goodbye and hanging up the call.

Pressing my back against the brick wall, I slid towards the ground, ending up in a crouched position. My head fell into my hands, muffling the wail of a cry that I let escape. Twenty-five days of built-up emotion were released in that cry - and the worst part was, there was still another twenty-five to go. Patience was starting to grow thin. It had to be if I resorted to crying alone in an alleyway. That was quite a new low for me.

I tilted my head up as I wiped my eyes, thankful that Gwen had not yet done my make-up and I didn't have to worry about streaks of mascara running down my face. Placing the cigarette between my lips, I lit up, savouring the rush of smoke as it filled my lungs.

This new habit had turned into my only saving grace the past few weeks.

It wasn't something I was particularly proud of picking up.

I always said smoking was something I favoured during desperate times.

And was I ever fucking desperate right now.

DAY TWENTY-SIX

"What?" I spat.

"Aw, it's lovely to hear your voice too, baby," Brandon's voice mocked sarcastically from the other end of the call. "How are you doing on this fine evening?"

"Shitty, thanks for asking. Now cut the crap - are you done yet?"

"That's why I was giving you a call. I need more time."

"More time? How much more fucking time do you need?"

"I don't know. A couple of weeks... maybe longer..."

"That's what you said last time. You promised me I was going to be done with all of this by now."

"This shit takes time, baby." Brandon let out a sigh. "I am trying to do this all without getting caught... Or, should I say, getting you caught."

I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip, swallowing the snappy remark I had ready on the tip of my tongue. "Yeah, I know."

"Good. Now, how about you go enjoy your night. And the next time I give you a call, I'll have something for you."

Hanging up the phone, I shoved my device into my back pocket. Enjoy my night - that was fucking easier said than done. Tapping my fingers against the countertop, I did everything I could to talk myself out of the only way I knew I could make myself have a good time.

Yet the desire was too pressing to ignore. It was so easy to numb my thoughts. That's all I needed right now. Numbness.

One night without thinking.

One night to fucking forget all the other shit that was going on.

One night to pretend everything was like the good old days.

The days before I knew Carter. Before I had to keep all the secrets I knew hidden in the vault; his and mine alike. When I didn't put everyone else's feelings, needs, wants, and desires before my own.

Selfish - I wanted to be that version of myself again.

It took a small amount of convincing to dig into my jacket pocket and pull out what I was looking for. Placing one small pill onto the counter, I trapped it between the surface and the palm of my hand, pushing down with force until I heard it break. I dusted off my palm and lifted it to my mouth, licking the contents of the leftover residue in one swipe.

The dust was now arranged in a perfect line. I leaned down, pressing my finger against one nostril to block it as I inhaled with the other. It took a few passes to get all the powder off the counter, but once it was all gone, I felt good. Really fucking good.

I quickly checked my reflection, ensuring there were no marks of white left behind on my nose before I exited the bathroom and headed down the hallway.

"There you are!" Patrick excitedly yelled over the blaring music. "I was worried you went home or something."

"Long line for the bathroom," I called back as I reached for a bottle from the table.

Weston was the first to pick up on my action. "You okay?"

I filled a glass and caught his glance. "Yeah, why?"

"I haven't seen you drink in a while."

I shot back the liquid in one quick motion, scrunching my nose at the foul taste as it ran down the back of my throat. "I'm just here to enjoy my night, Wes. And, I'm sure your friend over there is hoping to do the same," I said as I refilled, looking at the brunette he had left. Quickly finishing off the second drink with one large gulp, I turned my attention towards the group. "I want to go dance. Who's in?"

"Oh! Me!" Gwen said as she got up from her spot, pulling Patrick along with her.

I turned to head in the direction of the dance floor as I felt a presence following from behind. "Don't want to bring your girlfriend?"

Weston scoffed. "I'm sure Silas will be happy to keep her company," he said as he glanced over his shoulder, already seeing that his assumption was being proved right. "Besides, I'm not letting you go out there alone."

"My knight in shining armour," I teased as I took his hand in mine and guided our way through the crowd.

The colourful lights flashed across the crowd, illuminating the tightly packed bodies that moved around us. I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck. The two of us danced alongside Patrick and Gwen, who were clearly fighting the urge to contain the loved-up scene they clearly wanted to make.

Swiping my tongue across my bottom lip, I noticed his eyes follow the action. Weston spun my body around and pulled me towards him. My hips swayed to the beat of the music as he rested his hands on my waist. I could feel his breath against my neck, his lips grazing my skin. Turning my head to the side, instantly I became aware of how close he was to me; with one slight movement, I could close the distance completely.

I enjoyed the desire and touch I was receiving. Was it wrong to crave such a thing from someone else? Maybe. But I wasn't causing any harm. It's not like I was going to do anything - I was only dancing with a friend. Even if it did act on it, there was next to nothing left in me that cared.

I enjoyed being selfish. And I was beginning to think that I would never want to feel another way ever again.

1 Missed Call: Carter Young

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN

The sun peaked its way through the curtains, allowing the light to illuminate the room. My eyes slowly opened as I let out a yawn and turned over in the bed, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Morning," the voice grumbled.

I looked over at his sleeping form, unable to hold back the smile that formed over spotting his dishevelled bed head. "Morning," I repeated.

"Feeling any better?"

"Yeah, a bit," I lied. "You know we can't tell anyone we did this again, right?"

"I know," Weston said, closing his eyes as rested his arm across my stomach. "Now, shut up and let me sleep for another twenty minutes."

DAY THIRTY-THREE

"Please tell me you're not just about to waste my fucking time and you actually brought what I asked for," I said as I got into the passenger seat and slammed the car door shut.

"Hello to you too," Brandon snickered from his spot. "Excited for your little show tonight? You know, I'm quite disappointed I didn't get any free tickets as a thank you gift."

I rolled my eyes, unamused by his remark. "Do you have it or not?"

"Yeah, alright, calm down," he reached into the back seat. "Don't get your panties in a twist. Here."

Snatching the folder from his hand, I pulled out the document, relieved that it was exactly what I had asked him to get. "Was it hard to find?"

"Very," Brandon said, tapping his fingers against the centre console.

My eyes quickly scanned over the police report before I shoved it back into the folder. "Thank you for getting this."

"Are you doing okay?"

I met his glance. "I'm fine."

"You know I can see right through that bullshit line of yours, right?"

"Well, I'm not going to have some breakdown therapy session with you in the car so how else do you want me to respond?"

"Ah, there's my girl," he said with a low chuckle. "I'm still working on getting the other stuff. Is it still safe to call you? I'm sure your loverboy Wes is watching you like a hawk right now."

Deciding it was best to ignore his comment about Weston - as I knew a conversation heading into that territory would certainly push me over the edge - I replied, "Yeah, it's still safe. I think I still have the number saved under Hank's Business Phone or something, and no one's asked any questions about it."

Brandon grabbed hold of my arm as I reached for the door. "That Jeff guy knows a lot of people... just, be careful, okay?"

I nodded, giving him a small smile. "I will be."

"And if you need anything, I'm only a phone call away."

"I know. You always are."

DAY THIRTY-SIX

"Where the fuck is she? We have to go on stage in five minutes!" I could hear Silas's voice whine from down the hall.

I tried to push the lack of interest I had in engaging with him to the back of my mind. Of course, that only proved to be extremely difficult when he was the first face I saw when entering the dressing room.

"Oh, thanks for finally showing up."

I rolled my eyes as I brushed past him and grabbed the clothes I needed off their respective hangers.

"Are you really going to ignore me?"

I turned my head in his direction. "Do you really want me to stop what I'm doing and argue with you right now? Because I'm pretty certain I just heard you bitching about where I was ten seconds ago from all the way outside."

"Sorry I just assumed you would at least be ready on time like all of us were," he snapped. "Just because your boyfriend decided to fuck off for the past month doesn't mean you get to stop caring about everything else."

"Excuse me? Since when have I stopped caring?"

Silas rolled his eyes and released a long, overly dramatic sigh. "Oh, I don't know. How stupid of me to think that when you so clearly care! You don't even act like you want to be here, TJ!"

"Maybe I don't. Ever think about that? Maybe I have a whole bunch of other shit going on that I don't really feel like going on stage right now. But do you know what I'm going to do?" I looked at the time. "I'm going to get changed in two minutes, put a smile on my face, and go out on stage. Alright? Will that make you happy?"

"Yeah, I'm sure smiling for once will fix everything," he muttered.

If I had more than ninety seconds to get ready, I would have shot something back and kept this argument alive. Instead, I resorted to glaring at the back of his head as he left the room.

"You okay?" Gwen asked once the two of us were alone.

"No," I huffed under my breath, pulling out a tiny plastic bag filled with powder from my pocket. "But I will be."

DAY FORTY-TWO

I reached for the handle and pulled it down, flushing the contents of the toilet. Getting myself off the ground, I went to the sink and brushed my teeth, catching my reflection. The circles under my eyes were more prominent than I had seen in a long time and my skin was drained from any colour. How I looked on the outside was exactly how I felt on the inside; dull.

Opening the bathroom door, I walked back into my bedroom and went over my mental checklist of items for packing.

"Please don't tell me you're doing that again."

I jumped at the voice. "Jesus, Wes," I said, placing my hand on my chest. "You scared the shit out of me."

"TJ," he said as he got up from his position on the bed. "Please tell me I didn't hear that."

I rolled my eyes. "You didn't hear that."

"Now say it like you mean it."

"How old are we? Five?"

Weston grabbed hold of my arm as I attempted to step around him. "I'm being serious, TJ. Since when did you start doing that again?"

I bit the inside of my cheek seeing his worried gaze. "Not long," I told him honestly, "It's only a slip-up. I've just had a really hard month, okay?"

"I know you have," he said, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Can you not talk to me about it?"

"No," I whispered. "I would if I could but it doesn't involve me."

"Is it about Carter? Is that why he hasn't been around for the past six weeks?"

"Have you been keeping track?" I asked, slightly teasing him with my tone as I leaned down to zip up my bag. "Look, I'll be back in less than a week. If I can, I'll explain it to you then."

I tried to sound convincing, although I knew regardless of the outcome, I would not be sharing that information with anyone. Not even Weston. Maybe there was something else I could think of while away that would work. I'm sure there would be enough time to create something convincing.

"Is he out there?"

"I think so. When are you two going to patch things up?"

I shrugged my shoulders and picked up my jacket. "When I figure out what we're actually fighting about. I just don't know how much longer I can live under the same roof with him acting like this. I feel like he hates me all of a sudden."

"He doesn't hate you."

"Well, he certainly doesn't like me. He's made that clear."

"Here, I'll take it for you," he said, picking up my luggage.

"Thanks."

I made my way out of my bedroom with Weston following shortly behind. The one thing I wanted was to leave the house in peace. However, the moment I spotted Silas on the couch, I knew all hope was lost.

"Are you seriously leaving?"

"Silas," I groaned, "Not now."

"Then when TJ?" he questioned as he made his way over towards the door. "You promised us a few days ago that you were committed to this band. And now what? You're just leaving again? Without telling us?"

I slipped my jacket on and reached for the door handle. "Hank knows."

"Oh, that makes it all better. Remember when you talked to us too? Not just our fucking manager?"

"Si, come on," Weston interjected quietly, "Ease up a bit."

The arguing transferred from me, onto the two of them. I pressed my forehead against the window, watching the street, waiting desperately for the car to pull up. Guilt travelled through me as the bickering continued, knowing I had an escape from this situation while the three of them would still be living under the same roof. Yet that feeling only lasted so long as I spotted the SUV pull into the driveway, and reached down to grab my bag.

"I'm allowed to be fucking sick of this shit!" Silas yelled, turning his attention to Patrick. "Are you going to fucking speak up or not?"

Patrick looked at me before hanging his head low.

"Fine. Stay silent like always."

"Don't take it out on him," I snapped as I reached for the door.

He scoffed. "That's rich coming from you. You've taken your bad attitude out on us for months. How do you think that makes us feel?"

"How do you think it makes me feel when you pull shit like this?" I yelled back, walking towards the car.

"Well, it's a little hard to tell how you're feeling from one day to the next, considering we don't even know if you actually want to do this anymore!"

I turned back towards him, the rage building inside. Everything I had been through the past six weeks was building to this point; maybe I didn't actually mean what I was about to say, but I didn't care. It was how I felt. "Maybe I don't then! Maybe this is a sign that this isn't for me."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I don't want to do this anymore. I'm done." 

aye look at me go posting this long ass chapter and not breaking it up into parts. 

happy sunday (even tho I wanna cry bc I have work tomorrow)