Lola chews her lip as she sits across from her therapist telling her that her three month stay is almost up. Lola fidgets, and squirms in her seat, and fidgets some more, unable to look the woman across from her in the eye, knowing too well what she's going to have to admit. The band was out almost a month ago, but Lola's in a medical facility, five months pregnant, and being properly looked after for the first time since she was a young child. It feels irresponsible to leave now, knowing herself as well as she does.
It's not cheap to stay, but that's not exactly an issue for her; the issue is that the band visited her two weeks in a row, looking bright-eyed and excited about the future each time, excited to get back to the studio, and Lola felt like crying each time. She knows they'd help her, support her, take care of her, but if even one of them slipped up, busted, her paper-thin resolve would crumble in an instant. She can't trust any of them in this situation, especially not herself.
As much as she hates it here, somehow it's the best option she has.
The therapist asks how her visit went with the band last Sunday, and Lola hums noncommittally. The therapist asks her if she's talked to Nikki about the baby, and Lola just gives another hum in response; not a yes, not a no.
Nikki had gone all starry-eyed when he'd seen her the first time they'd visited, all quiet and mooney and at a loss for words as Lola's guilt burned bright in her veins. The rest of the band had been like that too, coddled her, treated her like she was porcelain, asking with hushed excitement if they could touch her belly after the shock of seeing her alive and well had worn off; the thing inside her had started kicking last month, so at least someone was happy about that development.
They'd hugged her for a full five minutes when they first saw her, wrapping her up the moment they'd spotted her standing, waiting nervously, all of them careful not to squish her, while Mick stood back, giving awkward nods to the other people in the room who were giving them weird looks. Mick was quiet the whole time, clearly he thought their time in rehab was as bullshit as Lola felt hers was, but she's glad he's there at all.
At first, they're all quiet.
"You guys are being weird," Lola says, despite not letting go where she's got an arm around Nikki and Tommy, while Vince had his face pressed against her collar.
"Shut up, you died," Vince mumbled, giving her a faint squeeze, and his voice is heavy.
Oh.
Someone had told her that he was the one that had found her, had called the EMTs, that had refused to leave her side for days before Nikki was able to come and relieve him of his post. For a moment, Lola wonders if they're both thinking about the same thing, about the horrifying reality where he hadn't found her in time, and how grateful they are that he did. She wants to thank him, wants to apologise, but doesn't know the right words to say.
Except that she knows the words she wants to say, but knows they're selfish too.
All she can tell them is that she can't see them all at the same time anymore, that it overwhelms her; when they were younger, they all would have rolled their eyes at that, especially Nikki, but instead, they all nod, and take it in stride, and promise to stagger their visits, to do everything they can to keep her calm and happy, if at the very least for the baby's sake.
So now she's sitting in the therapist's office and telling her she doesn't want to go.
"Can you be addicted to more than, like, the drugs... and the alcohol?" Lola asks, fidgeting in her seat. The therapist is so still, so serene in comparison; she jots down a note, but looks to Lola with intrigue.
YOU ARE READING
Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx | The Dirt}
Fanfiction" the girl is crafty like ice is cold. " Nikki and Lola met before they were Nikki and Lola, before Motley Crue, before they were even eighteen; they were just two shitty teenagers, looking to escape their shitty childhoods. So together they turn in...
