Karma's Happenstance

Un-House Broken

Un-house Broken

Izzy POV 

Like every other day in my existance, I wake up to that old familiar and unwelcomed feeling. It starts first in my stomach then soon spreads to my bones, joints, and muscles. Life has come calling again for that morning fix. It's a vicious never ending cycle. No matter how magical last night had been with church girl, I still awake to my own personal hell.

My beautiful angel was lying across my chest. The red hair rippled in waves across me. I could feel her warm breath as she exhaled. God she felt so fucking good in my arms. How she had fully given herself to me. Begged me to take her. A smile crosses my lips remembering how wonderful last night had been. I was so fucking nervous, but I stll managed to get her to cum for the first time. No way would she ever forget me. Yeah, I felt pretty damn good about myself today.

But a little cringe under my skin reminds me of the truth. I'm a strung out junkie in need of a fucking fix. I need it more than my vanity. I need more than naked church girl in my arms. Need it more than the very air I breath. It is my one and only desire in this feindish moment I find myself locked in. I need it. Period.

I slowly slide out from under my girl. She of course stirs and asks where I'm going.

"Gotta do my thing," I say as I kiss her forehead.

She relinquishes me from her arms. I sit at the edge of the bed in search of where my clothes might have ended up. Or even my bags. Seriously, where's my shit?

"Mmmmm," by beautiful red head stretches with a smile. "Try looking in the closet."

"Nikki's fucking closet?" I smirk.

She nods. "He bought you a few things in Vegas. Said he didn't want people to think he was a squatter in his house."

I smirk and shake my head and cross naked to the closet. Church girl eyes me in delight as she blushes. "No need for shyness now darlin'."

I open the closet and see bags of clothes hanging with a note. 

Stradlin,
Look the part with style.
Sixx

And Ironically enough, they were just my style only labels I could never afford. The pants were genuine leather. Jesus this shit with Sixx is getting creepy. But I get dressed. I give the naked beauty in the bed one hel of a kiss and promise to be back soon. She tells me to be careful.

Yeah, I fucking know what you're thinking, that I just OD’d a couple of days ago. But that’s how this shit works. Withdrawals are showing and it won’t be getting any prettier in the next hours. So a junkie’s got to do what a junkie’s got to do, right? Go fucking score. The Ferriswheel of my fucking life. The bane of my existance.

But when the junkie shuffle is through, I'll score. Then all will be great and I'll go back here to Nikki's. And tonight I'm not going home to nothing. Tonight, I've got church girl and now she's mine and mine alone.

I make my way downstairs, looking for the guys. I need a fucking fix and I have to find out where Slash left the number of that guy Nikki hooked us up with. As I reach the base of the stairs I see a fucking pile of puke. I jump over it. The banisters of the stairs have cut rope tied to them. Music is blaring from somewhere.

I walk further and glance into the living room. It looks as if everyone has depleted the liquor supply in Sixx's house. Empty bottles and beer cans are every fucking where. There's a grey stain on the white carpet that I assume is where an ashtray fell over. There's chick's clothes draped over the furniture. Pizza boxes litter the floor. Traces of white powdery residue are on the glass coffee table. The TV projector is playing a porno. What the hell? Where is everybody?