The very last thing that Christine Hill expected was the exponential success of Mötley Crüe-the band she loved to hate.
And she never would've surmised that she'd be dragged-kicking and fucking screaming, by the nape of her neck-along for the wilde...
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Warning(s): drug abuse. Again, I'm truly very sorry..
Depraved, sadistic thoughts continually dominated any sense of rationality that Nikki was even capable of mustering up, forcing him to slink back to his debased, bordering on wicked, drug depleted second self. Sikki.
An impressively hefty heroin binge with Robbin in the thirty minutes leading to the pre-ceremony meetup, saw the pair get completely blitzed and disconnected from any perception of sanity. However, despite his less than presentable state, Nikki recognized that he had to make the effort to pull himself away from his beloved indulgence.
Hardly able to hold his body upright without gripping the arm of the couch, Nikki reached for the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels sat atop the glass. He could almost feel the vicious burn of the cheap spirit that was about to sear all the way down his throat, but he drank it up.
"Hey, do you really think that getting more hammered is gonna help--"
"--Fuck you, firstly," he cut Robbin short and began to unscrew the cap, watching as it slipped from between his fingers and bounced across the embossed rug, "and secondly, what I do is none of your God damn business! You just sat there and smoked crack while I loaded myself with heroin, so I don't think you're in any position to dictate to me what I should and shouldn't be putting in my fucking body!"
Silence.
His eyes so wide they were starting to burn under the harsh artificial light of the lounge. A long, agonizing pull of whiskey momentarily snatched his focus from the astounded blonde before him.
"Now," wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Nikki threw the bottle to the couch--Robbin watching as liquor sloshed around and spilled against the leather, "I've got twenty minutes before I'm supposed to be playing best man, so I'm gonna go find--and potentially fuck--my wife. Whatever you do next is your call entirely."
"Don't you fuckin' think about it," Robbin curtly, completely uncharacteristically, scolded, "do you really think that heading out there lookin' like that--" he pointed to his face "--is a good fuckin' idea?"
Nikki froze. Though pinned out and borderline hidden, his dull eyes zoned in on Robbin's features.
"What's it to you?"
"The fuck do you mean?"
"What's it to you?" Nikki repeated himself, "why do you suddenly care so much about if I'm fucked or not? You're always for getting jacked up, Robbin. What's changed?"
You. You have changed.
Robbin stared at him as if he had two fucking heads--not understanding why the man was suddenly so antsy. But then he realized that Sikki had begun to fester away at his friend, depleting him from the inside out until there was nothing left but a shell of the man that he once was. It was heart-wrenching to see, but he knew that there was nothing that could be done.
