First Love | James Hetfield

Warrior

1983

"Fucking move, dick!"

"You move!"

Cliff massaged his temples, fed up with their nonstop bickering that had been going on since the crack of dawn.

"I have a box in my hands if you couldn't fuckin' tell!" Annie barked, shaking her head to get her hair out of her face. She glared at the blond guitarist before her.

"Boo fucking hoo! I have two boxes, which are really fuckin' heavy, might I add." James hissed back at her as the boxes slowly slipped out of his hands inch by inch. His sweaty fingers were gripping the sides for dear life.

Annie groaned aloud, darting her eyes up to the ceiling. "You're insufferable." she grumbled before tossing her box right on top of the two he was already holding.

"There, now you have three."

James looked from the box to her with wide, helpless eyes. She walked away with a shrug.

James inevitably collapsed in the doorway with an 'oof', his blond mess of curls covering his face.

Annie glanced at Cliff as she entered the kitchen, having to double take when she noticed he was holding in his laughter.

"What's so funny?" she furrowed her brows, walking around the island to stand in front of him.

"You guys." he spoke through another laugh, shaking his head.

She frowned, letting go of the subject to pour herself a glass of water.

"Oh, by the way, y'know that guy Richie from the party the other night?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

"Yeah..." she responded slowly, turning to face him again.

"I heard he was arrested."

Her head cocked back in surprise and her eyebrows lifted. "Seriously? For the fight?" she asked, referring to two nights ago when James was almost drowned by her attacker.

"Well, that and I guess his place got raided. They found all kinds a' stuff." Cliff nodded.

"Huh." Annie blinked, shaking her head in surprise. "That's crazy that he got arrested.." she muttered.

"Good crazy, though." Cliff added, nudging her arm with his own. She smiled softly then, nodding in agreement.

"Hey, speaking of the other night," he began, "you put up a damn good fight."

She snorted. "I didn't put it up. He and Hetfield did."

"Well, you ended what they started." he shrugged, glancing down at her. "And it was pretty damn badass." he grinned.

She couldn't fight the blush creeping up on her face at the small compliment. "Yeah, I know, I know. Thanks." she brushed her shoulder, a hardened expression taking over her face before Cliff laughed loudly, gently shoving her with his arm.

"Seriously, though. You're the coolest chick I've met since..." he trailed off. "Since my 8th grade English teacher."

She laughed loudly, smacking his arm. "Cliff!"

He shrugged. "Honest to God! Not many girls would jump into the middle of two guys fighting like that— let alone knock one of 'em out."

"Well," she shrugged. "I was just gettin' him back for what he did to me."

"As you should've!" he nodded, nudging her arm once more. She looked away, embarrassed as she began blushing once more. Cliff was one of the two only guys that could make her blush so hard.

"You're a fuckin' warrior, Anneliese Buckley."

1986

WARRIOR

She gazed down at the freshly tattooed letters on her forearm, replaying his voice in her head.

You're a warrior.

The lump in her throat thickened before she stood up, taking a deep breath and glancing at the tattoo artist with a small smile. "Thanks, man. It looks great."

"No worries. Have a good one." the artist responded with a nod, returning her credit card to her.

"You too." she muttered, pushing the glass doors open and leaving the parlor.

She'd received the call at around four p.m.

Just as her shift at the diner ended, and she sat in her car with a tired huff.

The telephone just below the middle console began ringing, disrupting the quiet hum of her car.

She felt tears form in her eyes at Kirk's shaky words from the other end of the call.

Cliff was gone.

Forever.

It didn't even hit her until she woke up the next day.

She'd never see his face again, or hear his boyish laughter.

That day, the house was completely silent. The house she decided to stay at instead of her quiet apartment that she normally shared with James. All three girls stayed in their own rooms the whole day. One of the few times Annie would get up to use the bathroom or get something to eat, she could hear quiet sobs coming from Bea's room.

She leaned her head against the door, closing her eyes and swallowing the growing lump in her throat. She slowly opened the door, finding her friend hunched over a small box of photos.

When she caught a glimpse of the photo taken at Bea's birthday party where she and James were goofing off with birthday hats and Cliff and Bea could be seen in the background, doing what looked to be attacking each other with cake frosting— she broke down right then.

February 6th, 1983 was the date on the photograph.

Dropping to her knees, she pulled Bea into her arms, allowing her to sob into her shoulder. Her eyes darted from photo to photo as she stroked Bea's hair. Each photo held such special memories. Memories that she'd never get to relive. She had to close her eyes to avoid the photos that made tears run down her face.

She broke away from her thoughts, blinking away the tears that filled her eyes as she skimmed her thumb across the tattoo again, glancing at the shop once more before leaving.

"You didn't have to come in today,"

Mick's baritone voice spoke from behind her as she put her bag in the old locker in the back room.

"It's fine." she muttered, unfolding her apron and bringing the strings around her back.

Mick watched her shaky fingers struggle to tie the thin strings, stepping forward to grab ahold of them and tie them swiftly.

"Seriously. It's not busy today." Mick insisted, quieter this time.

"I appreciate it Mick, but I gotta stay busy, y'know?" she argued, although keeping her tone gentle as she turned to face him.

After a moment of examining her features for any sign of hesitation and not finding any, he nodded, taking a step back.

And for three hours she was able to pretend everything was okay. Cliff was still here. James was still speaking to her.

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