Afraid | Nikki Sixx

7.

Nikki's POV

I slowly woke up, my head starting to pound, my body began to ache, my stomach was starting to cramp, I feel like I'm dying.

Fuck, I'm going through withdrawal. I looked around. This isn't my house, where can I get smack and dope from? I slowly rose up, careful not to disturb Carly from sleeping next to me. I looked around for my leather jacket, I saw it on the doorknob of her door, I quickly ran over to it, clutching my stomach. I grabbed the jacket and then ran into the bathroom, feeling the urge to throw up. I dropped to my knees and started to vomit, my whole body shuddering.

Once I finally gained control again, I flushed the toilet and then rummaged through my jacket pockets for something. Anything! I need something! I finally found a small bag of smack and I sighed out some relief. I had my spoon, lighter and a clean needle with me. I usually always carry this, just in case.

I began to melt it down on the spoon, desperate for this feeling to go away. This is actual hell, I feel like I'm in hell. I loaded up my needle once it was all melted down.

I sighed out relief and sat on the floor, leaning my head back against the wall. Finally, I'm normal again. I stood up and held onto the sink for support. I splashed water on my face, I think I took a little too much, I'm clearly out of it.

I cleaned up everything and put it back into my jacket pockets, I carefully walked back into Carly's room and put the jacket right back where it was and then stumbled into the kitchen, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and began to gulp down the water.

"Nikki? What are you doing up? It's 5 in the morning," I heard Tommy from behind me. I whipped around and I must've looked terrified. "Dude, it's just me. I'm sorry for startling ya," he said. I shook my head. "It's fine," I said back simply. Tommy walked over to me, looking at my face. "What?" I asked, annoyed. "You're strung out." Tommy said, as a matter of factly. "Am not, I just woke up. I'm fine–" "Are you going through psychosis again, Sixx?" "No!" I raised my voice. Tommy shook his head. "You're killing yourself, Nikki." He said, sadly. "I'm fine," I said, brushing past him.

"Carly won't wanna be with a junkie, you know that, right?" I heard him call after me, I felt my blood boil. "I'm not a junkie!" I yelled. "I'm just worried about you, man!" He yelled back. "Cocaine is one thing, pot is one thing, but heroin? That stuff kills–" "Cocaine kills, too! So does alcohol, everything eventually kills you, just leave me alone!" I yelled. "I don't give a fuck whether I live or die, I just don't care!" I yelled, my voice breaking. I walked back into Carly's bedroom again and saw her sitting up in her bed, tears in her eyes. She was about to say something. "I don't wanna hear it." I said to her, grabbing my shoes and putting them on and then grabbing my jacket and leaving the room.

"Don't leave, Nik. I'm sorry." Tommy said. "Whatever," I mumbled and walked out the front door, slamming it behind me.

I mean why should I care if I live or die? My Mom doesn't want me, my Dad abandoned me, he told me he doesn't have a son. Why the fuck should I care about my life if the two people who gave me life don't give a fuck?!

I left my car in front of Carly's house and just walked back to my house on foot. I reached my house and pulled my key out of my pocket and quickly getting inside, slamming the door shut. I drew all the curtains and went to my stash of blow. I grabbed the baggy and made lines on my coffee table.

A few minutes had gone by, I think I'm fine this time. No psychosis, no hallucinations, I'm just having a good trip. Then, this overwhelming feeling of dread came over me. The police, they're after me. They know. I shot up from my seat on the couch and quickly ran into my room, shutting the door behind me. I grabbed my diary and gun and hid in my closet.

"Carly won't wanna be with a junkie, you know that, right?" Kept running through my head. The way he looked at me, like I was.. I was.. he looked at me like I was a junkie, that's all anybody sees me as, just some junkie in a band. I held the sides of my head. Make it stop, someone make it stop, please.

"Nikki?" I heard someone say, taking steps into the bedroom. I grabbed my gun again. "Nikki, it's Carly. I need to make sure you're okay," I heard her say. Carly. I put my gun down and opened the door to my closet, causing Carly to jump a little. "Oh! There you are, sorry for jumping, I didn't expect you to be in a closet." She smiled a little.

I stood up. "When you look at me, what do you see?" I asked her. She furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean? I see Nikki Sixx–" "That's not what I mean," I cut her off. She played with her bracelets, she always does that when she's unsure or anxious. "I see a man who is slowly bringing me out of my shell, I see someone who's incredibly talented on the Bass, I see someone with the best laugh and smile in the world, I see someone who's made my gloomy life a lot happier since they came into it, I see someone who means a lot to me." She said, stepping up to me and softly holding my hands. Everything she does is so soft and gentle. "You don't see a junkie?" I asked her.

"What? Of course not, I just think you need some help, Love." She said. "I'm not going to a rehab center–" "I'll help you." She cut me off, smiling. I smiled a little.

"Okay, and I'll help you, too." I said, she furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm gonna teach you how to be open about your feelings." "I am open, I was just open–" "Carly, I'm strung out and the only other time you told me anything about how you felt about me is when you were tipsy." I cut her off.

"Okay, then we'll help each other, deal?" She asked me. I nodded. "Deal." I smiled.

(a/n: oof i honestly cannot stop writing this story. i hope you all enjoy it as much as i am. thank you so much for reading, please vote. feedback is always welcome, bye👻)