Bad Obsession (Guns N' Roses: Izzy Stradlin)

Chapter 39: Rocky Road

A/N: Please don't hate me that it's taken a thousand years for me to update :/

Izzy's P.O.V

When we had enough of bath time, I took Melanie to her doctor to get her checked out to see if she was going to be okay. I sat there awkwardly in the doctor's room while Mel's doctor told her that miscarriages were a mystery and that doctors still hadn't discovered why they happen. Melanie started to cry again as she told her doctor what happened, and I felt useless. I didn't know what to do besides give her a tissue. I didn't know how to deal with it; I felt uncomfortable if I patted Mel on the back while she was blubbering, and even when I tried to pat her, she shrugged my hand off her. I hated to say it, but I was secretly relieved that we had ended up at the doctors for the sad and 'wrong' reason. I couldn't even begin to think of the panic that would be shooting through me if we were sitting in the doctor's hearing about how to be preparing for a baby. When I zoned back into Mel's sobbing, I realised she was making me sound like a dick by telling the doctor I didn't wear condoms most of the time, and I saw her doctor stare at me and give me this disappointed look.

"Hey, lady, don't give me that look," I said holding my hands up.

Mel turned to glare at me.

"Izzy..." She warned.

"No, I'm not going to sit here and be blamed for this thing."

"Sir, this is not a 'thing'. This is a miscarriage, and I hate to say this but I think you should be supporting your partner more."

"Excuse me?"

"You have to realise that if you had been consistent in wearing protection, this wouldn't have happened, and you both- well, Miss Buchanan here wouldn't be experiencing this trauma."

"Oh, Alice, don't even bother," Melanie mumbled as she dabbed her nose with a scrunched up tissue.

"Oh boy, I gotta tell you I'm feeling very attacked here." I laughed, as I ran my hand through my hair.

"You're feeling 'attacked'? For fuck's sake, I just had a thing slip out of me, you're acting like you don't care, and you're behaving like a 5-year-old!"

"You're blaming me for this!" I argued, yelling back at Mel.

"Please, can we not fight here-"

"Shut up for a second," I spoke interrupting the doctor.

"Izzy, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Melanie wailed.

"Okay, you know what? You two can talk about whatever the fuck you want; blame me for everything, plot to kill me- whatever. I'm going to go wait in the car." I stared at Melanie before I slammed the door behind me, and I stormed out of the building and into the car park.

I ripped my car door open and sunk down in the driver's seat which made a squeaking sound when my arse was planted since the seats were made out of leather. I reached into my jean pocket and pulled out my packet of cigarettes, lit it, and sighed with relief as the smoke-filled my lungs. Why is this shit happening to me, I thought selfishly as I rapidly took drags, and I stared out into the barren car park, which was filled with shiny coloured roofs of cars. The sun was beating down onto the bitumen, there should have been trees planted around the lot for less heat, and I started to feel my back and forehead begin to perspire. It took me a while to realise but I then started to feel my hands shaking uncontrollably. I knew what it was and it was calling for me; the little brown paper bag was still in my suitcase which contained a spoon, syringe, cotton balls, and the little clear, plastic container filled with the beautiful white powder.