14 years - Axl Rose x OC

47

---February 5th, 1992

Lita Monroe leaned back, closing her eyes in hopes to bask in the silence. The peeper's sound she loved so much was dull at the end of winter, and she bet there was a layer of frost settling over the Midwest, where she was likely to hear them. The large kitchen knife in her hand trembled, Axl noticed. Lita breathed in and out heavily, wiping her dry eyes.

"I can get that for you," said Axl, reaching over the counter and taking her slender wrist in his hand; he could feel her elevated pulse. He used his other hand to take the knife, placing it in front of him. Axl, with his eyes wide and not ready to shut for the night. It was almost midnight; the clock above Lita's head read 11:27pm.

"No, no, let me finish it," Lita whispered back, trying to take the knife back from him to continue cutting her late-night snack in small pieces. Was it considered a late night snack if she never went to bed in the first place? The two were up all night; Lita, who experienced regular pain recently as she neared the end of her pregnancy; and Axl, who could not go to sleep at night without knowing that she wasn't in pain.

Lita dropped her hand low, gripping the counter hard. Axl looked at her concerned; this was a commonality recently, watching her like this. He brought the knife closer to his chest, getting up to put it back in the stand on the other side of the kitchen. The dim light over the island flickered a bit, causing Lita to open her eyes.

Axl turned back around to face her, planning to offer some sort of pain reliever if he could. She looked at him, deadly, a culmination of pain and anger in Lita's eyes as she gripped the countertop and her side. "You okay," he asked, coming over and standing in front of her. Axl rubbed her shoulder, bringing Lita tight against his chest while she began to cry into his neck.

"It fucking hurts," she seethed.

"I know, you've been saying this for a week now. I don't know how to help you," Axl reasoned. If Lita was experiencing an external problem, for instance a cut or a bruise, sure, he'd be able to fix that best he could. But when it was the natural process her body was going through, little stabs here and there, getting closer over the last few days, well, he couldn't do much except consol. "Where does it hurt, Lita? Same as last time? Different places? Just let me know, please."

"It's like...throbbing and stabbing me at the same time. On my sides...and, you know..." Lita said. Axl raised his brows not understanding: "Huh?" Lita sighed, over it. "In my fucking pussy, Axl. And it's getting worse, but I'm not due for three more weeks; it's scaring me," she said, starting to cry again. Suddenly, Axl exited the kitchen, going down the hall into various rooms and hastily grabbing things.

He came back with a large duffle bag, placed it on the counter as Lita watched, and went into the living room to grab more things. "What are you doing?" Lita asked, waddling to the kitchen entryway. "If you're feeling like shit, obviously, and it's getting worse and worse, as you're saying, then I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No...you don't need to. I'm not in labor, Axl, it's normal." Lita watched Axl pick up the food from the counter that Lita had been trying to cut, put it into a plastic bag, and carry it outside, along with the other things he'd taken from the house. "I don't care, we're going."

Lita rolled her eyes, following him outside to the car. "I don't think it's necessary, but don't," she said. Axl opened the door for her and she got in. Axl put everything in the backseat, getting in on the driver's side. The time on the car read 11:42 when Axl and Lita left the house, heading into Los Angeles. On the way there, while the car coasted down the highway, the cool air hitting Lita through the open window, as she felt sick, another sensation hit her.