wild side || tommy lee / motley crue

7. i write, you tour

12/05/1981

I had passed out the previous day due to malnourishment and exhaustion and woke up today in Vince's arms, in the room that he gave me.
Now, why was Vince the one holding me? No fucking clue.
Where the fuck was Tommy? Yet again, no fucking clue.
So, I decide to roll over to face Vince and ask him about it.

"Vince." I speak, giving him a hint that I'm awake.

"Yeah, Val?"

"Where's Tommy?"

"Had to go out with Heather." 
No shit, the blonde bitch. Why in the actual fuck is he so overly in love with her?

I didn't bother to say anything back so I just told him that I should get up now, as it is 1 pm already.
I stand up and almost collapse because of the pounding headache I'm having and the weakness running through my body. I slowly stumble my way across the room into the bathroom and take a hot shower.

When I get into the shower, I turn the water as hot as possible. I sit down on the shower floor and try to recall of what happened the day before. I'm confused to why I can't remember anything at all, so I just decided that when I get out of the shower I'll go ask any of the guys what the fuck went down.
The answer to that unfortunately wasn't so pleasing.

I get out of the shower, I dry myself and do my hair and skincare. I'm not so satisfied with what I see in the mirror and my attempt at fixing it doesn't work.
Yes, I managed to hide the intense dark circles under my eyes, but nothing can change the look in my eyes and my facial structure. My face has caved in a lot more, making me look extremely ill and the emotion in my eyes is at level zero. There is none. I look like I had just woken up from a ten year coma, unable to comprehend anything what's going on around me.

I get dressed and go downstairs to find Nikki seated on the couch. Why do we all look like shit today? Did we have a party last night?

"Hey, Nikki" I say.

"Jesus, Val, I'm glad you're okay" He tells me, worried out of his mind.

"What the fuck went down yesterday?" I ask him

"What are you talking about?" He questions, looking as if it would be obvious that I knew what the answer to my question was.

"I can't remember shit."

"You fucking overdosed."

Oh. That explains the headaches and the pain in my arm, feeling as if I was stabbed. Plus my weak state.

I don't say anything back, instead I just sit down next to him on the couch.
We sit there for a couple minutes until he slowly wraps his arms around me, embracing me.

"You can't imagine what it felt like thinking you were gone."

"I'm surprised I even survived." I tell him, honestly not thinking I could ever live through an overdose.

"I'm just glad you're back. Also, I have something important to tell you that I've been thinking about."
He tells me, sounding quite serious.

"What is it?" I ask, him pulling away from me now.

"Remember when we were thinking of starting a band?"