Wha-if rockstars went to boarding school

Chapter 40: I don't want to die, out here in the valley

A/N: holy fucking fuck. 40 chapters? No wonder my Iphone says I spend 73% of my weekly time here. Lol. But seriously, 73%. I don't spend that much drawing or on instagram. As you can see, I have a lot of fun with these chapter names.

Nikki Sixx

December 23,

I've been edging away at what little I have left of my smack. Tommy has been watching me like a hawk, so has his dick ass dad. Its driving a rift between us. He's been trying to convince me to get help.

But diary, I don't need the help, they do. I'm not the one that needs an evaluation. I've got my savior in my veins.

We found out earlier today that Vince was arrested. He was drunk driving. Ended up killing his roommate. Tommy is a little upset, but yet that doesn't stop him from getting into my business.

I had to hand over some of my smack, claiming that I had consumed most of it when I overdosed. I managed to hide the rest. I won't tell you where diary, in case idiot eyes ever fell upon you.

For now I've continued injecting into my arm, passing off the new marks as old ones. My veins are a strange shade currently, bulging with the tourniquet around them. I've had some scary delusions mixing Cocaine, Heroin, and Whiskey.

I almost broke Tommys window yesterday.

Oh and diary? My mothers out of prison.

I shut the diary, the cover of it has the dark brown stains of heroin. It's something that tends to get messy. I yank the tourniquet tighter, almost yelling out in pain.

I prepare my needle. Surprisingly, despite telling Tommy that I would never do heroin again, I feel no guilt.

It's only pure, absolutely primal cravings. It's whats keeping me alive. And I haven't gotten enough of it lately. Steven has promised he'll be back in stock within 4 days. But I'm dwindling, fast, only injecting enough to keep withdrawals at bay, but not really getting what I fucking need.

DAMN IT ADLER.

My moods are terrible lately, and 90% of the time I traipse back to the air mattress and just try to fall asleep. I've missed out on all the "festivities". But at this point I couldn't care less.

I do feel guilty for intruding on Tommys family. I don't belong with them. After all I've wrecked every family I've been with. Nobody exactly seems to know how to take care of a broken child, hellbent on living his way.

After I finish, I can feel it taking hold, so I climb back in bed. Nobody bothers me for about an hour. Tommy comes in then, shaking me. "Nik?" He asks.

I groan, sitting up slightly. Tommy looks worried. "You slept past breakfast." He mumbles, climbing onto the mattress beside me.

I groan in reply, pushing my body away from his. I make sure my journal is tucked under my pillow. I can barely open my eyes, laying back down.

"Nikki?" He asks, shaking me again. I shove him away this time. "What the fuck?" He asks, hurt lacing his words like the tip of a sword being shoved deep into my chest.

My breathing speeds up as he hugs me. I'm a shitty person.

Just fucking kill yourself Nikki.

You can't love him.

You've never even known love.

You're just some dumb fuck wasting space.

You don't belong here.

Tommy should find a nice girl, not you, you stupid fucking idiot...

I pull away from Tommy, standing up. I need more smack, now.

It's the thing that silences ALL the pain. But for now, just a little hit, and then off to work. I get christmas eve, and christmas day off. At least thats exciting. Right?

I manage to make myself look okay, and not like I'm on the verge of dying, because I am. I'll die if I don't get that heroin.

Work is exhausting, more so with Gary. I'm less willing to obey his commands tonight, and I have a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

"Listen here you little slut. I'm about tired of you." He growls, pulling his gun out of his waistband.

I scream, loudly, jumping as quickly as I can. I can barely hear the gun go off, I drop to the floor, movement rendered useless.

The voices are getting farther away.

I can hear some banging on the door, and then the door splintering.

I can hear a panicked scream, but I don't register it. It's my own but it doesn't feel like it. The black spots are taking over my vision. I make out the shape of long, fluffy hair, eyes the color of the tree bark, skin smooth like an angel.

And chicken legs.