Tranquilize Me (A Mötley Crüe Story)

7.

Tommy Lee

I kick and scream, thrashing against the nurses as hard as I can, but ultimately by body is too weak to put up a fight, and the nurses are able to hold me down. I don't know what to do except starting to cry as the tube is shoved up my nose and routed down my throat. At this point, I'm sobbing.

I don't want this! I don't need this! Why couldn't they just let me be in peace? Now my mind is in a state of turmoil, and that's kicking up the depression. I have to get this out of me, I just have to get this fucking tube out. All the caloric foods, and the so called "nutrients" that just drag me down are going to kill me.

"Tommy?" It's Nikki, he's beside me.

I don't answer, I can't. The lights above me are too blinding, and my heart is racing too fast. I can't stop the absolute panic. My chest starts to ache and burn with the terror. "SOMEONE GET HIS HEART RATE DOWN, IT'S PUTTING A STRAIN ON HIS HEART!"

A/N: yes anorexia can actually cause you to have some problems with panic and gaining weight and all that jazz affects your heart badly. It's what happened to Karen Carpenter, her body couldn't take the strain anymore.

Nikki Sixx

"TOMMY!" I yell, trying to snap him out of it.

It's not working, his heart rate is climbing steadily, and he's become unresponsive to anybody. I can't bear to see him like this. He looks so deathly ill. His eyes are still open, but he looks so freakishly panicked that I actually wish they were closed.

"He's having a severe panic attack." A nurse says.

"No shit." I glare at her.

"Nikki, let's get you back to the common room, we'll update you on your roommates condition soon." The nurse says politely.

"Fuck off." I snarl, stepping away from her and towards my hyperventilating roommate. I have no idea why he's crying like that, but it's starting to scare me. He looks terrified, tears streaming down his face and choking him.

"Nikki come with me." The nurse says sternly, reaching for my arm.

"NO YOU STUPID CUNT!" I shriek, scrambling to get away from her, and also knowing that I'm gonna get the fucking booty juice.

"Nikki..." Another nurse walks in.

I see the needle behind her back, but I'm still not gonna leave Tommy until he calms down. I don't want my roommate to die. As much as I hate to admit that I have feelings, Tommy has made these past few weeks so much better for me. All the doctors and specialists even say that I'm acting much better. I can't fucking lose this dork, especially not to Anorexia.

I feel the sharp prick of the needle in my side, and within five seconds, I'm on the ground.

A couple hours later, Tommy Lee

"Tommy? Tommy?" I hear Doctor Andersons voice ask.

I force myself to open my eyes and look at her. She's smiling sympathetically, but holding two boxes of what looks like protein shakes. In her other hand, there's a long, transparent bag with a tube attached to it. I'm too tired to even care what she's gonna do with it, as long as she doesn't stick it up my ass.

"It's dinner time." She mumbles, opening the bag up and blowing air into it to inflate it and then hanging it on the pole.

"Oh god." I sigh, eyeing it warily as she pours the liquid into the bag. Theres so much of it. It seems like it just keeps filling and filling. The lump in my throat grows, hurting my throat and making me more anxious.

"Okay, we're gonna hook this," Pamela holds up the tube that is coming from the bag. "To your feeding tube Tommy." She explains.

I nod, feeling the tube stab my uvula as I move my head. Dr. Anderson nods and I feel her grab the tube, which puts an uncomfortable pressure on my nose. She hooks the tube to the feeding bag, and a couple of moments later I feel the slight burning sensation, and the sensation of drinking without fucking swallowing.

It instantly repulses me. "I don't-" I start, but trying to talk is absolutely awful.

"How are you feeling Tommy?" Dr. Anderson asks me.

Nauseous, to be quite obvious. My stomach is churning and twisting, doing flips like a fuckin gymnast. I'm trying to keep it down, but I can feel the familiar sensation of vomit creeping up my throat. 'Do it Tommy, you'll feel so much better afterwards without all this shit in you'

'No Tommy, they're trying to hel-'

'Fucking do it. If you die, who gives a shit?! You want to anyways and you know it you good for nothing worthless, annoying, fucking bitch.'

Even if I didn't want to, I don't have much of a choice. The nausea is getting to be too much. I can't stop myself from throwing up.

"Tommy!" Dr. Anderson gasps.

I look down in defeat. I'm going to die like this. Fuck.