𝗗𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗟𝗲𝘁 𝗚𝗼 𝗢𝗳 𝗠𝘆 𝗛𝗮𝗻𝗱 🤍

•𝗪𝗲 𝗡𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗧𝗼 𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗸, 𝗧𝗼𝗺•

•☁️•

Nikki's POV, July 1987

Hello, welcome back to the shit show which is my life.

We'd been on the road just under a month and I can safely say, I regret ever coming on this tour. I thought it was going to be easy with Tommy ignoring me like the plague and all, but no, it wasn't- it was so fucking difficult. I had to see him everyday and have him look at me with such disappointment and hurt, it made me want to curl up and die.

River from what I'd seen was looked after by Doug while we were on stage seems as Doc is still slightly against her, he needs to get the fuck over it because I swear to god if he doesn't accept her or me I will fire him pretty soon.

But that's not important because at least Doc could see River if he wanted too, not that he does- but still. I hadn't spent a second alone with her since Tommy walked out on me, I'd seen her from across a dressing room a couple of times if Doug was hanging around or if Vince had taken her off Doug's hands but I wasn't allowed to be with her alone in any capacity.

My heart was being torn apart bit by bit each day, it was now unbearable, it was killing me in the slowest and most painful way possible.

So much so, that the concoction of heroin and cocaine had become my regular choice for a hit now, it did exactly what I wanted, it made me emotionless the thing that heroin alone used to do but no longer can.

There is a slight issue though today, this morning wasn't the greatest morning ever, well, last night and this morning shall I say- seems as I hadn't slept almost at all last night, I got an hour at most but then after waking up from the moment of sleep I felt like shit, literally the most depressed I've ever felt and I don't know where it came from.

So, from the second I woke up which was about 8am this morning to now, 5 minutes before a show- I'd drank 3 litre bottles of whiskey aswell as injecting my jacked heroin every 60 minutes. It made me feel fucking great earlier but now combined with my exhaustion I felt so hazy, I was fading in and out of clear and clouded vision and I felt like I was going to throw up at any point.

Self sabotaging? I'm the king of it. Literally.

My make up was shoved on my face the best I could with my current state, I'm surprised Doug, Doc or Tommy haven't forced me into rehab if I'm honest- but hey, I'm not complaining, if I was going to go for help I want to go because I want to be there not because someone said I have to be.

Mick came in seconds before we were going to get called to be by the stage, he asked me if I was well enough to perform, I nodded not really having the energy to talk- Mick asked me a second time and I managed to say am actual word, a simple 'yeah', he didn't believe me but knew better than to argue with me even when I wasn't my best.

We ended up walking to the stage together, Tommy caught my eye and he stared at me quite startled at how ill I looked- his eyes racked over my form with so many emotions, so I took this opportunity to talk to him "T-Bone... can we talk?" I whisper shifting from foot to foot.

The moment I spoke he looked away from me and folded his arms over his chest "What about, Sixx?" He sighed sounding done with me.

"About us... about why you've ignored me for a month" I said sharper than I intended but oh well, fuck it.

"Funny, you ignored me for about 4- so, I don't think you can really complain can you?" He retorted but I can see he instantly regretted his tone, so much so that I saw him backing away from me slightly "Look, talk to me when you're not off your face, cause I can't fucking stand to be around you right now, man."