how soon is now? || w. a rose [i/v]

ANDY XV

I just remember crying. Everything else from that day was kind of a blur, I left the studio and got in the car and I just...I don't know. I don't know if I was supposed to...I didn't...I didn't know what to do. I just drove, my hands were shaking. They were shaking so bad that you would think I would have been an addict, I don't know how I got back to the house to be honest.

I just couldn't focus on a thought, if it wasn't about Matthew, or Helena, Edward, my father, my mother, they were tearing me apart. It was like my mind had split and everything had just fallen out onto the floor and I had to look at it.

I shouldn't have called Eric a scab, I should have stopped. I should have just been quiet, my whole damn life would have been easier if I had just been quiet.

I got back through the door, I didn't even bother to lock it, anyone could have fucking walked in. I just sat on the bathroom floor, I basically let whoever into Axl's house.

He found me there after a couple of hours, I couldn't cut anymore of my hair off.

// England's finest: The autobiography of Mind the Gap, the band that saw the British invasion through brit-pop and redefined the meaning of English music, 2013. CH ADRIANNA 15

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w. very poor mental health, heavy discussions of past domestic abuse, chronic medical condition, child neglect and brief mention of past racism

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The weather was windy, the heavy palm tree leaves being pulled away from the trunk, the threaded leaves being ripped away. Andy's step was uneven as she made her way over to her parked car, moving over to the right side corner as the gusts grabbed at her feet in an effort to push over her heels.

She wished she hadn't worn them now, feeling her ankles be pulled like on marionette strings as she tried her hardest not to slip on the irregular pavement, the grey cracks and the sprouting dandelions merging into a blur. Her vision was foggy, the bright red, green and blues of the trucks, saloons and hatchbacks all tipping into one picture, distinguishing number plates becoming an impossible task as the numbers and letters flipped over themselves.

She pulled her jacket closer around her body, clutching the leather with her nails, jabbing in scars across the shiny texture. Her right hand couldn't stop shaking, a quake running from the very end of her pinky through to her thumb. The nerves electrified across the flesh, keeping the bone taught as it moved in an awkward, outpaced rhythm. She needed another Beta Blocker, she'd been falling out of rhythm with them for days, the constant up down cycle of answering the phone before dialling and waiting for another. On Tuesday she had taken too many and Thursday too little, the thud of her heart pulling across her chest and her head filled with dizzying migraines.

People walked past her but they didn't seem to have the same shaking step, ladies in tight dresses and wide shoulders running in stilettos and businessmen power walking into the Geffen Studios entrance. They didn't look at her, and she hoped none of the resident paparazzi were outside somewhere in the decorative bushes.

Andy knew she must have looked a mess, she could feel mascara starting to fleck into her eyes and she'd probably managed to pull them down her cheeks. She let a laugh break out, or was it half a sob, she would have to incorporate it into her look soon. She was struggling to find her day's recently that weren't filled with dark make up stains, the eyeliner and eyeshadow already mostly gone from her face by the time she came to wash her face at five am. She'd originally never let it get that late but when she was receiving a scheduled phone call at four every morning it had seemed rather pointless to get in her nightly routine before she had even slept.