Don't Go Away Mad // Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee - Lexx

Chapter 14 - Sixx is Back

Nikki - 

I just woke up and feel like complete shit. I can’t believe that I went through so much to get myself clean, and I fucked it up. I’m not overly concerned. I know that I can chip and dabble a little bit with the heroin before getting hooked again, but it’s mostly the fact knowing that I even did it. This shit killed me just 8 days ago. How can any sane person, who nearly loses his life, ever go back to it again. Well, I’ve never been sane, so I guess that would be me, this jackass. 

When I felt that sweet liquid enter my veins, I can’t believe that I ever wanted to stop. It’s forefront on my mind how good it feels. So much better than everything else feels right now. I’m being plagued by bad memories from my childhood, thanks to my mom and my clear head. I’ve been backstabbed by my best friend. And I have shit going on with the band. Vince told me that he thinks management is going to cancel the rest of our tour. He caught wind of that notion by overhearing a background conversation while on the phone with management. The hell they are. I’m perfectly fucking fine, and can go out as early as tomorrow to pick up the tour again. These fucking corporate assholes think they know what’s best. It’s our fucking band, and they’re not going to make these types of decisions for us.

My damn phone has been ringing all morning. Since I trashed my answering machine yesterday, I have no fucking clue who’s calling me, but I can guess who. My mom, Tommy, and fucking Doc or Doug. Fuck them all. If they want me, they know where I am. I hear that this new caller identification device is coming out in certain areas of the country. I think that I need that when it’s available here in L.A. It will make my life a hell of a lot easier, so that I can avoid all of the assholes that I know.

I force myself to go out into the living area of my house. I’m still shaken and still feeling hurt, but I’m at least calmer. I’m pretty sure that I can refrain from breaking stuff. I see the answering machine when I get near the foyer. Not in the mood to clean up glass right now. I come into the living room. My guitar is where I left it. I think that I’m going to write some more songs today. On the other side of the room is the chair that Tommy and I used yesterday. I just pick it up with one hand and move it back to the corner. 

I step into my kitchen and see Tommy’s death eggs still on my stove. I pick up the pan, and throw the whole thing out, pan and all. I need a drink to wake me up. It should be coffee or water, but I might scour around for alcohol. I must have some around. I’m not sure if Tommy and Bob rummaged through my cabinets to dump liquor or not. The first cabinet I check, under the sink, bingo! Whiskey of course, my favorite. It’s morning, so I’ll be civil and pour it into a tumbler instead of straight from the bottle. I wonder if this is the one Tommy brought over and hid the other night. Big bottle, I see he wouldn’t have finished it all himself.

I take the glass and go over to my coffee table where my guitar and notebook are. I have a lot of ideas for songs, but I’m just going to pen lyrics for now, no music. I get up, and put my guitar back behind the chair. I’m not sure how my mood is going to hold up as the morning goes by.

I think that a few hours passed by. I’m feeling buzzed by the liquor. I refilled the glass a few times. I guess 8 days of no drinks, sets one’s tolerance level back a few notches. But! I have 4 new songs, plus my gem from yesterday. I feel some accomplishment. Maybe time for a reward. Off to my closet. I grab a spoon from the kitchen. I’ve got to get away from the ringing of the fucking phone anyway. As a matter of fact while I’m walking past the phone on the way to my bedroom, I pickup the ringing phone, and slam it back down on the hook. Fucking asshole on the other end deserves it, I’m sure.

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I unscrew a brass ball from my bed post. Fuck, nothing good there, just some pills that I dont want right now. I try another. It’s a nice amount of cocaine. My pipe is gone though. So much for freebase. I go for a third. There she is, but I’m low on supply. I’m either going to need to stop using again, or call my fucking dealer. I’m dreading that. I do not want to hear any of his commentary about my overdose. He’s fucking pure sleaze. I take the 4th ball off, just to see what I have. Just one more bindle of junk, and some rigs. I’m still pretty burned that Tommy didn’t save any of my stash from the closet. Maybe I should still consider calling Bob to rat Tommy out. I know where he keeps his shit. I loaded up when I got home from the tour, and it’s all gone, and not by way of my veins. Because I have an idiot for a friend.