Tranquilize Me (A Mötley Crüe Story)

6.

A/N: obviously this is fiction so there is a tad overdramatization, but trust me...it does get this bad. Again, overdramatization.

Tommy Lee

I quickly flush the toilet, dragging myself back to my bed with what little strength I have. My depression has gotten so much worse lately after Nikki found out what I've been doing. Has it stopped me though? No. I just did it 5 minutes ago in fact.

I'm so cold and shaky, and my mind is taking me to some seriously dark places. This actually feels like hell. If hell is real, then I died and this is it. Laying alone in the dark with nothing but my thoughts and my body that absolutely hates me.

It's been acting out these past few days, making me feel like shit as well.

"Tommy?" A quiet, shaky voice asks.

I find the courage to roll over and look at Nikki. He's sitting up on his bed, blanket pulled tightly around himself. I sigh, throwing off my own covers, and trot over to him. "Sup Sixx?" I ask, instantly burying my bitterly cold limbs into his warm frame.

"I-I left her behind. I left her in a shitty abusive relationship. A-and even though she never cared about me- I- care for her!!!" Nikki wails, trying to keep some composure but failing.

"Who?" I asked, dazed and hazy.

"My mom!"

"Oh...is she why you're here?"

Nikki takes a deep breath. Then another, then he lays us both back on the small bed, warm hands running up the back of my hoodie to keep me warm. His eyes don't seem angry,  but they do seem guarded. He pulls me closer, and then hesitates. "Tommy...Tommy- can I- can I trust you with something?"

"Yeah. Always. I'm not gonna tell anyone anything." I say, letting him continue to stroke my back even though I'm wildly uncomfortable in my body.

"Tommy...promise me."

"Jesus Christ Nikki, I fucking promise I won't tell anybody." I groan, still shivering a bit.

Nikki pulls me even closer, to where my head is resting in the space that connects his neck and shoulders. He's shaking, and I hear him breathing heavily. "Well-Well it all...all started when my dad left. I was two, and my mom had already been a little psycho, but after...she started just ignoring me, or violently screaming at me and hitting me. She was an alcoholic. Um- fuck..." I feel tears running down his neck, and I look up at him to wipe the tears away.

"Hey...it's okay...you don't have to tell me anymore if you don't want to." I mumble, trying to be comforting to him.

"N-No. I want to." He sniffles.

"Okay." I mutter softly, burying my face back into the warmth of his neck.

"Sh-she never gave- never gave a shit about me. She always left me with someone whenever she could. And when she did give a shit, it was never a good thing. I stabbed myself. Right..." Nikki stops hugging me for a second, lifting up the sleeve of his night shirt to show me the long jagged scar running from his elbow to his wrist. "Here."

I gasp, seeing it at more than just a glance. Ever since I came here, I've been wondering how he got it. And now I know. "Oh Nikki...oh man....oh I'm....I'm so sorry dude." I finally manage to say, not knowing what else I can do to comfort him.

"It's okay. Promise that you won't tell?" He asks, pulling me back tightly into his arms.

"I promise." I say, letting him envelop me as he holds me. My brain isn't working very well, and something drags me into a fitful sleep.

I sleep all vital checks, breakfast, and lunch. Finally, around 12:30, I start to wake up, and I instantly regret it. My head is pounding, and white spots cloud my vision, my legs are feeling tingly and upsettingly weird. I look around, and notice that Nikkis not in the room. Good, I'm not going to be bombarded with snacks because I missed meals today.

Five minutes later, I find the energy to get out of bed, nearly fainting on my way. I look in the small, plastic mirror in the bathroom. What stares back at me scares me. I can see a split second glimpse of the real me, looking like a walking corpse. Sighing, I force my eyes shut. I just want the room to stop spinning.

When I open my eyes again, the corpse Tommy is gone. Replaced by an uncomfortable, deformed feeling Tommy. The Tommy that just wants to end it all. I'm so done at this point, I've just given up. There's nothing else that I can do, and my current dose of medication only helps so much.

I change my hoodie, then make my way shakily to the common room. Each step feels like I'm getting violently kicked in the shins. The pain is so much, that by the time I get to the common room, there is literal tears in my eyes. Flashes keep consuming my vision for split seconds, and I collapse into the nearest seat.

A couple minutes later Nikki runs over to me, followed by two nurses. He looks concerned, and I feel one of the nurses touch my forehead. "Tommy, man you don't look too good." Nikki says softly, yanking me away from the nurses.

"Nikki we're trying to help your friend." A nurse reminds him gently.

I stand up, my body shaking so bad that it feels like I'm convulsing. The nurses start to stop me, but I quickly try to push past them. "I'm fine." I try, my heart palpitating loudly as I crash to the floor. The last thing I remember is the entire room going black as I'm lifted up into the air.

————-

"Inaccurately weighed..."

"Used coins and small weights to throw you off..."

"Severe deprivation of nutrients..."

"Electrolyte imbalance..."

"...behavior known as purging..."

I silently will all of the doctors to shut the fuck up. I'm so tired and drained. My entire body is killing me. I have no idea what even happened to me, but I know enough about the subject of anorexia to know that that's what the doctors are talking about. The unfamiliar beeping startles me, and I jump in my bed, wincing at the great deal of pain it causes me.

"Oh Tommy, good! Glad to see you awake." Dr. Anderson says in a fake cheerful voice.

I don't respond, instead looking at my surroundings. Pretty standard hospital room, the charts, the bed. The absolutely ridiculous number of machines, the ugly ass walls, but then I notice something in a package. It's a tube.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh hell to the h e l l no.

"Tommy, we talked to your parents about a good course of action for treating your eating disorder, which is contributing to your depression." Doctor Anderson starts, and I blankly stare. "Anyways, for now, we're gonna give you a feeding tube, so you can get nutrients. We will also work on getting you on solid foods while you continue to go to group therapy for depression." She reaches for the tube.

My first instinct is to panic. By the time that they're done with me, I'M GONNA LOOK LIKE I BELONG ON MY SIX HUNDRED POUND LIFE!!!

Two other doctors move towards me to hold me down.

I was wrong before, this is HELL!