After a drunken one night stand, Eric Carr doesn't remember a thing. He wakes up naked in his apartment but one thing is for sure. The blood he just coughed up isn't a remnant of last night.
This book is in 1991 and will continue to whenever I damn...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
--------------------------- April 21st, 1991 | --------------------------- 3 : 2 4 A M | ------------------
Oh god...I just can't sleep. My mind is running with thoughts only about Bruce...how warm he is when I hug him...how he smells like a freshly baked apple pie...how I just want to tuck myself away in his chest and snuggle him forever...
I just can't stop, he plagues my every thought! How I believe with every fiber of my being that even though his hands are rough and calloused that he would hold me like a fragile china tea cup...
Can't help but wonder what he tastes like...how soft his lips are...and how he could sweep me off my feet easily.
My thoughts run dirty...but I stop them. It feels wrong to jerk it to not only- my bandmate, but also my best friend...
I'm proud to say I've never masturbated to the thought of Bruce...not like I haven't wanted to. Because oh lord Jesus I have. But I have self-control.
I know I'd never be able to face him after that.
I close my eyes tight, in an attempt to go to sleep. Thankfully, I finally do. And at 10 AM my alarm for practice goes off.
I groan, getting out of bed, rubbing my chest since it is still a bit sore. I take an anti-biotic pill that the surgeon prescribed me to stop infections and walk a few steps before looking at myself in the mirror.
The scar is multiple different colours due to healing, and stitches holding the skin taut. I open my dresser drawer to take out a pair of pants, it's just some black jeans so I pair it with a white shirt but a thick black sweater over it since it's still pretty cold here in Brooklyn.
Plus the cold weather is also an excuse to not wear a deep v-neck shirt so my scar isn't showing. I'm not really in the mood for their questioning about why I have it.
I put on the pants, and shirt, and pull the sweater over my head, taking the ends of my hair out from under the collar before I put on my socks and sneakers. Then the sunglasses go on and I look amazing!
Oh shit! I'm gonna be late if I don't head out now! I guess I woke up late! Or maybe I've just spent a lot of time getting ready...either one is possible.
Speedwalking out of my bedroom, I walk past my fruit bowl and grab an apple, taking my keys off my key hook and opening my apartment door, I close and lock it behind me, my neighbor, Janice, is already up and smoking a cigarette in the hallway, as usual.
"Morning Janice." I greet her nicely, smiling, she looks over at me as I wave, she smiles and waves back, coughing a little.
"Mornin' Eric. Are you feelin' better? Did my homemade cookies help ya?" she asks, her voice raspy from long years of smoking. She is in her 60s so she probably has been smoking since she was 10 or younger.
