Saving Motley Crue

Chapter Seven- The Great Escape

A sinking feeling sent my eyes fluttering open at 3 in the morning when trying every sleeping position possible did nothing to stop the aching in my arm and the buzzing in my mind. I had ended up getting seventeen stitches, and hated every moment of being at the hospital.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I took in a sharp breath of air when the sudden change sent a stab of pain through my arm.

Now that I was awake for sure, I returned to what had been subconsciously plaguing me all the rest of the day and night since the accident. Nikki was so deeply brainwashed- everything that they wanted him to think was embedded at an unbelievably deep level. My rationality was going to do nothing for him. He had to be convinced from the inside out.

I shook my head sadly when I remembered the various Satanic influences Nikki had been opening himself up to during this time (hence the title of their next album).

*The Next Morning*

"Hey! Wake up!" The voice that was suspiciously familiar pierced through my sleep before I was aware of the hands shaking me by the shoulders. When my mind sluggishly placed a name to the voice, I jolted awake. "Nikki? What's wrong?!"

"I had a dream last night," Nikki was half-whispering with a strange urgency, the white morning light streaming into the room revealing the unusual clarity in his wide eyes.

"What, a nightmare?"

"No, no, you don't understand . . . a vision. There were the demons . . . and they were fighting an angel-" He gazed at me with probing eyes, willing me to see what he saw, "It was a battle of the gods. And the angel won- no one has ever won against those demons . . . and the angel told me that you could help me escape. Told me to do whatever you said. What do I do?"

I was flooded with opposing emotions at once: relief that Nikki was beginning to understand things on some level, but panic because I didn't have a plan yet. "Okay, okay . . . give me ten minutes to get ready and think, and then we'll talk."

A muscle jumped in Nikki's jaw, and the fire dimmed a little in his eyes as he slowly nodded and left the room, scratching the back of his head.

As soon as he was out of eyesight, I rushed around the room trying to find an outfit that would endure a potentially endless day. All the while I was racking my brain for all of the steps we would need to follow to disappear without a trace.

When I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom, something terrible occurred to me as I glanced at myself in the cracked mirror above the sink; when I went to the hospital for my arm with Nikki, there was no way they didn't file that I was with him- from that time on I was on the government's radar. At the very least they wouldn't have any information on me because I wasn't born yet, but they'd have my face and physical description.

I grabbed a checkered bandana from one of the boys' performing outfits, and tied up my hair in it. At first I was impressed with myself, but one look in the mirror told me that I would stand out more than I would without it. I'd have to figure out something, and so would the boys.

Finally I emerged from the room, feeling more collected because I had the next few steps mapped out in my mind. Nikki, however, was obviously not in the same frame of mind, and he reminded me of '87 when he was on heroin, seemingly compulsively scratching his head and face and bouncing his knee beneath the table.

When I sat down beside him, he stopped moving and gazed at me with eager expectance. It was rather strange to see him like this given that he was always the last person to ask for help and trust others- not that I could blame him for it.