Anything Goes

Why Did I Come Here (Revisited)?

I ran. Up the Strip through the night air. It cut me like a knife, but it was nothing like the pain I was feeling inside. The tears came streaming like waterfalls. This was just like that last time, that time when I--I--no! I don’t even want to think about that...about HIM...it hurts so damn much…

My nose throbbed, but it was the least of my fucking worries at this point. Good one, Axl. You screwed up, and you screwed up BAD. First you hit your guitarist across the fucking face for trying to HELP, and what’s even worse (if that’s fucking possible at this point in time), you pushed away the man you have a FUCKING crush on! That’s great, Axl. Real great. He won’t ever want to come near you now. Not ever.

I stopped. Tears were falling like rain, mixing with the blood that was dripping heavily down my face and staining my clothes. I couldn’t look up; my head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and I felt WORTHLESS. I wanted to fucking disappear from this Earth and never return, ever again. I couldn’t fucking stand myself…

This was all my fault…

I stepped onto the familiar concrete. And I looked up. And here I was again...like my feet knew where to go when the rest of me just wanted to put a bullet through my goddamn skull. Stars were flashing behind my eyes; gold and full of burning fucking pain. My head was starting to pound with the rest of me, and everything had a halo around it that made me feel nauseous. Thanks, Chris. Thanks a lot. Then I felt bad for cursing him...It wasn’t his fault...he didn’t mean it…

I made to knock on the door but I was so dizzy I think I missed. Or maybe I didn’t...I didn’t know and I didn’t fucking care… I hope you’re there...please answer...you’re all I have left…

The door cracked and a very sleepy Spike, with messy hair and plaid pajama pants, stood there in the doorway, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Axl? Dude, it’s--”But he stopped when he saw me. “...oh my God. Holy shit! Get in, get in!” He grabbed me gently by the shoulder and tugged me inside, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He steered me to his couch and sat me down on it. Bowie moved out of my way. His eyes were wide with horror. “Oh my God...what the hell happened?! Are you alright?!”

I nodded shakily. Don’t cry, please don’t cry...not in front of him…

“Who did this to you?” Spike asked, touching my face tenderly, like I was frail little bird that couldn’t fly yet. I shook my head. Ow…

“It was an accident...Chris, he...he hit me with his guitar…”

“Oh Jesus! Let me look at it, ok?” I nodded. But that seemed to make it hurt more. Spike tilted my face up; his touch was warm and soft. No one had ever touched me like that before, with such gentle hands… “Yikes...he really did a number on you. I think you should go to the hospital, it could be broken. Here, I’ll lend you a coat and--”

“No! Please, no! No hospital...please…” I said to his carpet, tears clouding my eyes. Fuck me…

“What do you mean? Axl, I really think you should have this X-rayed. There’s no way for me to tell what the extent of the damage is without one, and I don’t have a machine in my apartment...Please let me drive you to the ER. As a friend, I’m asking you. Please.” He was...pleading? And why did he look so worried?

“But you’re a doctor, can’t you patch me up? Please, Spike, I don’t want to go to the hospital, I hate hospitals, please don’t take me there…” And before I could stop myself, I was hyperventilating and crying like the three year old that got pushed off the swingset. It certainly didn’t help my nose at all; it only made it burn and sting. Spike wrapped his arms around me and pressed my head into his chest, rubbing my back, not seeming to mind that I was crying and bleeding all over his clothes.