Knockin' on Heaven's Door (Axl Rose)

11: Nightmare

A/n: Short update, but the sparks they are a-flyin'!

She's waking up! She's waking up!" Someone started to shout. I was waking up in my room. Above my head were the string lights that Axl had bought for me, turned on. They were too bright though. 

"What happened?" I groaned, sitting up and putting a hand to my head. I remember hearing the loud crash of thunder after I'd dismissed God, but I remember nothing after that.

"You sprouted wings!" Steven exclaimed. "And they turned black!"

I felt my back, seeing that they were right. The once white wings that drug behind me, soft feathers touching the soft ground of Heaven, now were rough, oily, black feathers. It was official, I'd gone too far. But why wasn't I in Hell? Why had God let me stay on Earth? I expressed my confusion aloud. "Why am I still here?" I felt the spots on my back where the wings were planted. They felt overwhelmingly heavy now.

"You're not gonna have to go around lugging those things with you, are you?" Slash asked. "Because I think it would be kind of difficult to explain-"

"Cut them off," I told them. "I'll bleed, but you should cut them off."

The band stood there in silence. "Are you sure that's what you want?" Axl asked me.

No. I wasn't sure, but it had to be done. I can't walk around here with them. "Yes."

Izzy took a switchblade out of his pocket. I sat up and moved fistfulls of curly hair out his way. He started with the right one, digging into edge of it. I felt a very sharp pain as he moved the knife down. He was cutting it so easily. Once it was off, I screamed. I felt a warm liquid running down my back where the wing should've been. "The other one!" I groaned in agony. "Cut off the other one!"

Now I shot out out of my bed, screaming and rubbing my back. There was nothing there at all. "Oh," I sighed, putting a hand to my head. "Oh." 

Axl threw my door open, racing into my room with a kitchen knife in his hand. "If you hurt her I swear I'll-" He stopped shouting when he realized I was fine. "What're you screaming for?" He complained.

"I had a really bad dream," I answered. "I've never had a dream before."

The singer sighed, putting the knife down and sitting on the edge of my mattress. "Wipe those tears away, Angel-face," He told me. "It's only a dream."

I started rubbing my eyes with my hands to get the water out of them. "Why do you call me Angel-face?" I finally asked him. 

"Because you're special." His answer was not an explanation, but he showed no signs of wanting to further elaborate. All I could hear was Izzy's voice in the back of my head. 'He's sweet on you.'