ೃ⁀➷ ❝ You're in the [ 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝 ], I'm in the [ 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 ]. Nobody's [ 𝐬𝐨𝐧 ], nobody's [ 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 ]. ❞ - Lana Del Rey
Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. Violet Vienna and Nikki Sixx, two broken halves, who fit perfectly. Although they claime...
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Nikki stared at me softly as we both sat on a blanket on the floor.
"My stepfather used to..." I swallowed the sob threatening to jump out of my throat. "He used to touch me." Nikki let out a disappointing sigh, as he rubbed my back.
"I don't want you to pity me." I pushed away from him regretfully, as he gave me a concerned look.
"I'm not, I don't see you any different than I saw you three years ago." He smiled softly, comforting me. Which helped somehow.
"I just have these...episodes ever since then. At least that's what we call them." I sighed holding my face in my hands. To which he removed both of my hands, giving me a sympathetic nod.
"I understand, but if you don't mind me asking, since when?" His voice was soft and alluring, not his normally raspy voice.
"Since I was fourteen." I nodded, "But my mom put valium in my food every since I was ten." My mom caused my drug addiction, it all started with valium, and then when I found her snorting a line of cocaine, I waited till she left the room, and snorted a line myself. Then later I found out she did it on purpose, left me alone with her cocaine so I would try it.
"I can somewhat relate. My mom always had a bunch of shitty boyfriends, which meant shitty stepfathers and... yeah." He nodded, he seemed hesitant, like he wanted to tell me something more. But I shrugged it off, I didn't want to pressure him into doing anything.
"When did you leave home?" Nikki asked. I had told Nikki I left home as a kid, but never told him the truth.
"I...I left home the day my mom overdosed." I picked at the skin around my nails.
"I'm so sorry, you don't have to keep talking-" Nikki apologized, "I want to." I nodded.
"She died in the arms of my stepfather, then when the ambulance came and confirmed that she was in fact dead, I knew I couldn't stay alone with him. I packed up my things as quick as possible, and snuck out. I stayed on the streets for days, until a certain fifteen year old boy brought me home." I grinned, thinking about the day I met him.
"Milo." He stated, "Yeah, I was fourteen when I left home." I nodded.
"Enough about me, tell me about you." I leaned forward, resting my head onto my hands.
