| Cult by destiny *thanks to Jericho and Deb for proofing me* He looked in the mirror at his newly cut hair. It didn't look that bad, he reasoned. Shaved. All the curls now gone, replaced by a military style buzz cut. "Ah, I see you've freed your energy," the Master said, nodding in approval. Justin rubbed his hand over the brown stubble. "I have." He wasn't sure how much more energy he'd actually gained. He still felt unsure and tired, and a bit lost. He was assured in no uncertain terms that this was the only way to regain his soul, and his creativity. "Justin, you must now relinquish your worldly possessions. Are you prepared to become initiated and join your brothers and sisters in nirvana?" He tried to clear his mind, understand the words that the Master spoke aloud. For the past week, he'd done as he was told, consuming only fluids and spending 20 hours of the day deep in meditation and prayer. His feet were blistered and his stomach swollen. His mind was muddled, not as sharp, and he took the prescribed vitamin regimen faithfully in the hopes it would grant him clarity. "Justin, are you prepared?" "I am," he responded quietly, knowing he'd now be allowed to return to the outside world, gather the few material things he was alloted, then return to isolation. All of this just to return his inner peace to him, make his life worth living once more, dissipate the facade that had encompassed his life. "Then go, child. Return to the devil's playground and stay strong. Hold onto what we've taught you and come back to us with no questions, only faith." The Master stood next to Justin and touched his shoulder. "You have 48 hours." Justin bowed his head in supplication. The Master backed out of the room, leaving his newest disciple alone. Justin packed the few items he'd brought with him in silence. He threw his pack over his shoulder and headed out of the compound. The sunlight filtered through the trees, and he smiled as a cool breeze wafted through the air. Nature had never been appreciated enough, in his newfound opinion. He paused to stare at a hummingbird feeding from a flower, marveling at its wings speed. It was a miracle, pure in all it's glory. "Yo!" Justin turned at the uncouth voice interrupting his reflection on nature's wonder. The cabbie stood there, his clothes dirty and disheveled, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "You the one called for a ride?" Justin nodded, saddened that he had to leave the Master's nirvana to tie up loose ends. If he looked deep enough inside him, he would see the fear he held captured in his heart, fear that he would falter out in the world, loose his spirituality and sense of purpose. His friends, his family, they held that power, to destroy him with words. He was fragile, desperately in need of acceptance and scouring the earth for his lost inspiration. The cabbie tapped his foot impatiently, and Justin trudged the ten yard to the yellow vehicle, stepping inside and cringing at the acrid smell of smoke and incense. "Would you mind?" Justin asked, motioning toward the smoldering cigarette. The cabbie frowned, but stubbed it out, resetting his meter. "Where to?" Justin stared blankly for a moment. He hadn't thought of where to. "Home," he finally replied, avoiding his reflection in the rearview mirror. "East Orlando." The cabbie nodded and pulled away from the compound. **************************************************************************************** "What do you mean, he's home? Where the fuck has he been?" JC paced the studio furiously, his cell phone snapped tightly in his hands. "I'm on my way." He kicked out at the wall, pocketing his phone and storming from the small building. The drive over was torturous, leaving JC in emotional hell. He'd been waiting a week for word from Justin, any word, any peep to let him know he was still alive. Nothing. A whole fucking week had eclipsed without sight or sound from the guy. Now, Lance had found him at home. Well, that shit wasn't happening, not when they had an album to cut and release in less than two months, and he had to be there for vocals. In moments, he was at Justin's house, trying not to grit his teeth, trying not to put his fist through the pretty stained glass window on the front door. He had to get a hold of his emotions, push them back until he heard exactly where Justin had been. And if dared say he was holed up with some starlet in a hotel getting his brains fucked out, then he'd punch him. Lance came to the door, swinging it open with a horrified look on his face. "Damn," he spat, "We are in over our heads here." JC pushed his way inside. "Why? What'd the fucker do now?" Lance followed JC closely, knowing hell was about to erupt. JC peered into the kitchen where Justin's mother was sobbing into her hands. "What's going on?" he asked, as Lance shoved him past. Justin's mother had been through enough in the past hour, enough pain and shock to last her a lifetime. "He's up in his room packing," Lance whispered. JC frowned. "Come again?" Lance lead the way up the steps and into Justin's room. A low hum emitted from inside and Lance shook his head. "He's been doing that since he got here." "Humming? Like that? It sounds like a fucking dog call." JC barged inside the baby blue painted room, tripping over a box. "Dammit," he hissed, tumbling to the carpet. Justin looked up with a smile. "Hey, Joshua. I'm pleased Lance called you. It shall give me the chance to say a proper good bye." JC was stunned, unable to pick himself up. Was that Justin speaking to him like that, like some English professor? "Okay, who the hell are you?" he cracked, kicking the box away. Lance stood against the wall, afraid of the entire scenerio. Justin had returned home just as Lance was leaving, having been there to ask Lynn if she'd heard from him. He told her Justin missed a week's worth of studio time, and wasn't returning phone calls. He'd gasped when he saw Justin emerge from the cab, his curls shorn off and his outfit horrendous. Justin never wore sweats unless he was sick or sleeping, and he climbed from the vehicle adorning yellow Hanes, yellow. So Lance had done the only thing he could, called JC. "What do you mean?" Justin asked, his blue eyes almost black. "I'm me." He tossed his sneakers into a huge box and sighed. "Could you put these on E Bay for me? And donate the money please?" JC stumbled to his feet with a frustrated look on his face. "You're kidding, right? Justin?" He glanced at Lance who was averting his gaze, and JC could swear he was trembling. "Justin, those are your sneakers," he cried, as if Justin didn't know what he was doing. "I know that," Justin replied with a placid smile. "They should fetch a great deal of money, don't you think?" "Oh my fucking god," JC growled, turning to face Lance. "Who the fuck did this to him?" If he didn't know better, he would swear he was either on Candid Camera or in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Justin laid a hand on his shoulder, still grinning. JC shrugged him away. "Lance, if you know, I swear, you better tell me." Lance felt his eyes well with tears. He knew only what Justin had reveled to his mother, that he had found true inner peace and sanctity and was planning to leave in 48 hours to continue his search for himself. "Ask him," he choked, folding his arms over his chest. Justin waved his hands in the air. "My friends. Can't you see the joy I've found in my heart? In my soul? I'm whole again. I'm working toward purity and blue love." "Blue love? What is that shit?" JC moved aggresively toward Justin, gripping his arms and shaking him hard. "Did someone brainwash you? God, Justin, what's going on?" He stared into his eyes, once so bright and playful, now so endless and void of who Justin used to be. "Talk to me, goddamnit." Justin stayed very still, a diminutive grin tugging at his lips. "Joshua, why are you so threatened by this? It's okay. Truly. I'm happy for the first time in forever and am looking forward to spending eternity with my brothers and sisters in paradise." He pulled away gently, casting his gaze toward Lance. "My friend, my blood." He touched Lance lightly, pulling him into a firm hug. "Tonight we shall celebrate my new life. And you will cry no more." He wiped a stray tear from Lance's cheek. "It's not sad. It's not good bye. It just is." JC felt his insides turn upside down. His heart fell to his feet and his stomach lurched to his throat. "Justin," he said calmly, taking a deep breath, "We have vocals to record. We have a contract to fufill. We have fans out there waiting for us." Justin turned and cocked his head. "I understand. And you four can go on. It will work," he stressed. "The Master has told me so." With that, he continued to pile his belongings into small piles, humming again in that hypnotic tone. Lance bolted from the room, unable to see his friend acting in such lunacy. JC stayed, trying to figure out just what was happening. Justin was involved in some kind of cult, and he was not about to stand by and let him go back. He loved him too much. Quietly, he assisted Justin pack, hoping to gain his trust and infiltrate his mind, find out more about the Master he spoke of. Justin Timberlake was not going down, not when JC was around. |