I Never Should Have Let You Go

When I was eight years old, Joe recieved a brand new guitar. It was a maple neck Fender Stratocaster with a sunset colouration on the body. I was as jealous as my little self could be, and snipped the strings with a pair of scissors.

Sure, it wasn't dire, and I didn't do any permanent damage, but the feeling of knowing I'd hurt someone was great. I don't know why I felt this way, it's just the way I was.

My parents were furious, thinking it was Kevin who caused the damage. I tried to let him take the blame, I really did, but it was just too hard and I cracked under the guilt.

It was the same for this situation. When Cianna snapped, accusing me of sending Michael that nude photo I took almost a year ago, I just had to let her know I actually did it.

Her face was boiling red, angry tears welling up in her lower eyelids. She looked so helpless, folding her arms across her broad chest, and then thrusting them in the air when she changed the tone of her voice.

What she needed most was a hug, and what I needed most was heartbreak therapy. In case you hadn't caught on, I missed her very much.

For the 12 months I knew her, she was the light of my life, brightening up the world with her smile.

"I'm sorry Cianna, I'm so sorry." I pleaded, getting worked up myself. There were a whole bunch of people standing still in their tracks as they watched us.

Joe caught my cautioning gaze and we moved over to the park's large carpark where noone was around. Sarah looked panicked and confused, but she didn't matter to me at all.

"I can't believe you Nick! I trusted you to delete that photo! You had my respect!" Cianna spat, her voice wavering. Joe had his hand on her back, rubbing smooth circles.

"What photo? What photo?" Sarah blubbered. My older brother shook his head, dragging her off out of ear-shot.

Cianna was literally shaking, her knuckled firmly tucked into her palms. "I'm sorry Cianna, I love you, I'm sorry!"

"You're sorry?! I can't believe you would try and ruin my career! Performing is my passion Nick, and you tried to take it away from me! I never did anything to you except try and make you happy."

A heavy lump made its way up my throat, trapping my breath. My open mouth produced a small squeak instead of the words of my defense. I never meant to cause Cianna pain; that was my very very last option.

"My body is something that's private, and for me only. Nobody else in this world has my permission to view it. Imagine if that photo got out Nick? Think of all the perverts who'd see it! How does that make you feel? I already made a huge mistake by getting drunk and sending Michael of photos in Megan's underwear. That was bad, but at least I was partially covered! You took a naked photo Nick, a naked photo!" Cianna cried, wiping loose tears with her cardigan sleeve.

"Well if you hadn't--" I blubbered, about to save this disasterous conversation with a few smooth words.

"Don't you dare turn this on me! God damn it, I hate you! You're nothing but a selfish bastard with no brains! I hate you!"

It was true. Horrible. I was horrible. The amount of disrespect I had given to this special girl was incredible and worthy of punishment. There were countless amounts of times I had made her weep, or feel like she was useless.

Cruel was my middle name. Ever since I was a kid, I could be extremely spiteful. But that was no excuse.

Emotions in the form of liquid were stinging my eyes. I told myself to man up, and suck up, but I just couldn't. My actions had put my baby girl considerably out of pocket, all for the sake of my pride.

I had to make it up to her; it didn't matter how. I'd already lost enough of her, and she wasn't going to slip out of my grip any longer.

"Just--please, please, Cianna. God, I'm an idiot, I know, don't know why I did it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Cianna would have none of it, continuing to chastise. She finished up her scolding with a devastating few words. "I never want to see you ever again. I was possibly considering sorting things out with you, but no way. Stay the heck out of my life."

My stomach rolled violently as she walked off. My heart was telling my legs to move after Cianna, but my brain was too shocked to do anything.

---

Sleeping, being a bum and drinking small sips of water every so often was on my agenda for the next four days. Leaving my room, showering, and responding was most definitely not.

This was my natural reaction, shutting myself away. I knew I was acting stupidly and immaturally, but I just couldn't help it. I had a right to sulk. I was a pile of sloppy unmanly mush.

The door flung open just as I rolled over in my bed. Joe grabbed the sheet, ripping it from my tired body. "Get up, you little douche." he snarled, smacking my face with a lumpy pillow.

I retaliated by throwing my leg out to try and kick him. Well, I failed. He caught my limb, yanking me onto the cold hard floorboards.

"You're acting like a female, just with extra genitalia. Get the hell out of this room." he demanded.

"Piss off." I grumbled, struggling to climb back beneath the covers. My brother was the last person I wanted to talk to. He only ever caused more problems.

"Get up, you fucking brat! Cianna's filming an ad, then she's flying out to Haiti. You won't see her again for weeks." he growled.

"What's she flying there for?" I asked, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. Joe let out an angry breath, smoothing his palms over his forehead.

"There's been an earthquake, you dickhead! Selena's going too, and maybe me as well."

I flew out of my comfortable cavern, shooting to the bathroom. I tossed my oily curls into some form of presentation and sprayed on plenty of Axe deodarant.

"She's not going to Haiti! No way! She'll get herself killed! I'm not letting her go!" I snapped, colliding with his body as I tried to enter my wardrobe.

"She's going whether you like it or not! I'm telling you this so you can patch things up now before they get to out of hand. Cianna's gonna be there for about a week."

Taking in his information, I zipped down stairs to my car, ignoring the frantic calls from my mum. If I was lucky, Cianna would still be home since it was only 6am. I tore up the street, turning left at the lights, and came to a screeching halt outside of the all too familiar townhouse.

Two security guards stood by the gates. I suppose I'd have to suck up to them.

"Hey guys!" I yelled, sending an enthusiastic grin. They didn't seem too impressed. Sighing, I took another approach. "I need to see Cianna. Please, it's really important. I just need to apologize."

With a regretful look upon my face, I frowned. "I understand if you don't want to let me in but--"

"You're not going in there kid." the bigger burly guy, refused, folding his arms grympily.

This disheartened me, but I wasn't going to give up in seeing Cianna and changing her mind about us, and this whole Haiti thing.

"Well what time does her flight leave?" I asked in a calm and gentle voice.

"That's disclosed information. You could be a paparazzi for all we know."

I snapped. How ridiculous! "I'm Nick freaking Jonas, damnit! Can't you see that?!" I took a quick downward glance at my appearance. "I might not look like I'm Nick Jonas right now, but I know I lot of things about Cianna! Her birthday is on the 7th December 1991, and she was born in Dallas, Texas to Helen and Peter Fox."

"Internet Movie Database." the second guard spat. "Clear off before I have you arrested for trespassing."

Throwing my hands up to protest, I continued to fight. "Go ahead and slap the handcuffs on me. Either that or you let me in there or tell me what time her plane leaves."

My car seemed the safest place to go to when they started to lunge towards me. Looking back in the rear-vision mirror, I had quite a few thoughts running through my head. How long did it take to film an ad? A few hours, perhaps? Girls like handwritte notes- I'll make an apology poem. And girls also like clean hair.

Two minutes is the quickest shower I've ever had. I was out the door before I even had my socks on properly.

There were some very important things I needed to get done, in a very short amount of time.

c i a n n a

The Loreal range ad was finished by 8:30. There was a whole team there to fix my hair and makeup. I wanted to do it myself, but I guess it had to look perfect.

To be honest, I didn't want to promote a product I didn't use, but my publicist Jenny told me it would good for my image.

It was all about the publicity. It could be good or bad, good in the way that I'd get more fans and be able to spread my messages, and bad in the sense that it could ruin relationships.

Mr Jonas had been sending me abusive messages and so had Michael. I thought I'd have got rid of him when I swapped him the money for the photos, but he was now telling me how out of pocket I was, and how he was going to spend the cash enjoying 'services'.

It seemed Mr Jonas wasn't tech-savvy and had no idea that his texts could be used as evidence if I decided to sue.

Every morning I would wake up to the same old message.

From: P. Jonas
Message: May your soul rot in hell for breaking my sons heart. God created life on Earth, but you are some other form, so therefore, you are the offspring of the Devil.

At first, I cried. Yes, I did. But never did I reply. I wouldn't sink to his level.

Selena, my percussion player Tyler and I had organized to meet at Starbucks before we headed to LAX. Our flight to New York's JFK airport left at 1, and the plane to Haiti departed at 6. I was quite terrified to be going to a foreign country with such disaster, but I wanted to do all I could to help. Half a million dollars of Megans money and mine combined had already been deposited into a charity fund.

Tyler's brown hair popped up from the back of the couch. I managed to silence the steps of my Converse on the floor, and covered his eyes with my hands.

"Hello Cianna." he smiled, moving my palms. I groaned, and took a seat next to him, sipping on the chocolate frappucino he'd purchased for me.

"Where's Selena?" I asked, twirling the straw around in my drink. Tyler gave a sharp nod towards the door, and I looked up to see Sel lifting her sunglasses onto her head.

I grabbed my coffee and stood, gesturing for Tyler to follow with a wink. I didn't see the way he glanced at me. Selena later told me it was one of something more than friendship.

That just added to more of my problems.

---

"And then I said--" Selena began, showing her ticket to the flight attendent.

"Cianna! Don't you dare get on that plane! I swear!"

I turned around in fright. The one person I really didn't want to see was standing there, his hands full of bags. His hair was dishevelled; a pair of crumpled jeans and a t-shirt adorning his body.

My heart was hammering, absolutely pounding. Tyler tugged on my arm gently, but my feet were firmly planted. Nick's eyes were hooded, and there was no sparkle. He was dead.

Not only dead with his appearance, but dead in my heart. That's why I moved when Tyler pulled again. I just turned, and ignored his woeful pleading.

"Cianna, I'm sorry!" he cried, his voice pained and cracked. "Just talk to me!"

"Don't listen or pay any attention." Selena warned, shooting Nick a deadly glare.

Even when the plane was pulling away and I was comfortable in my seat, I could still hear his words loud and clear, and the more I thought about it, the more I realised I should've raced into Nick's arms.