Tranquilize Me (A Mötley Crüe Story)

1.

If you've read the latest chapters of my one shots book, then you can skip the first two chapters of the book if you want.

also, I'm lowkey proud of my cover edit.

Tommy Lee

"I still don't see why I have to spend so much time here." I grumble, grabbing my bag.

"Because you need help darling." Mom reminds me, sounding like she's on the verge of tears, yet again.

I mean, she did find her only son lying on the floor of the bathroom with a gun in his hand and a hole in his chest. Sadly, I aimed badly, but with my current weight I should have killed myself either way. I have no idea if Major Depressive Disorder caused Anorexia Nervosa, or if Anorexia Nervosa caused Major Depressive Disorder. Either way, I'm fucked.

"Yeah son, think of it this way, you get a vacation from your sister." Dad says, in an obvious attempt to cheer me up.

Yeah, in a FUCKING MENTAL HOSPITAL! I would rather spend two years locked in a room with Athena than be dragged to this hell hole. Yeah because I'm so fucking glad to be getting a fucking "vacation" in a looney bin. If I wanted a fucking vacation I would've just gone on the class trip to Paris!

But do I say any of this? No! Why? Because I'm a fucking pussy, and one that really doesn't deserve to live anymore. At this point I'm just a drain on my family, my friends, and even myself. And honestly, it all seemed to hit me out of nowhere.

I had been feeling sad for weeks, then it got so much worse. Then I started restricting meals so I would perform better in ballet, then I restricted even more meals, to where I just wasn't eating anymore. And then in between that episode of shit show, my depression got worse. It got to the point that I couldn't drag myself out of bed, and my brain was begging me to kill myself. I felt smothered under all the emotions. They caused physical pain, burning inside my chest and feeling like a heart attack, so finally, I just gave up.

I gave in to the sick thoughts. They consumed me and dragged me down. I had no energy to fight them, and they made breathing absolute hell. I tried to end it all 3 times. The last time, I got caught, and ended up here.

I try to seem okay with this as mom parks the car. I've heard shit about hospitals, but I have generally no idea what to expect. It's honestly scary, and the building seems ominous. Apparently it's a progressive hospital however, which makes me feel a tiny bit better.

"Okay I'm gonna walk you in." My mom says, helping me out of the car.

I grab my bag. I was told I can bring my own clothes, so if anyone tries to take them I may become homicidal instead of suicidal. The actual walk in is fucking terrifying. My anxiety shoots through the roof with each step. My mom keeps looking at me with a sad look on her face, only worsening my guilt, and by association, my depression.

When I get in to the lobby, they lead me to a small group of chairs. There's one other kid, about my age, in the chairs. My mom is signing paperwork by the front desk, and they're asking her all sorts of questions. I drum my fingers on the arm rests, and look at the kid. He's got stringy red hair, green eyes, and looks fucked up. He doesn't have any laces in his shoes, which is fucking strange since they're Nike's.

"New?" He asks.

"Yeah. You're not?" I reply, wondering what he's in for.

"I'm schizophrenic, I'm here all the time."

"Oh.."

"I'm Axl by the way, what are you here for?"

"Oh, I'm Tommy...and well...I shot myself."