Song Suggestion : Wiped Out! by The Neighborhood
James P.O.V
"Lovey?" A voice calls out. A sweet voice that only belongs to.. "Mom?" I yell. No answere, just the endless white, motionless and lifeless. I blink and call her again.
"Mom it's me!" I cry out as I see her standing long away from me. I run to her and hug her tight. I feel her warmth, her calming scent, her presence.
"James, I love you." She says as she faces me, her eyes shiny and bright. My tears start to fall down.
"No you don't." I whispere. Her hand reaches mine.
"I do, you're my dearest son." She says but I cut her words and pull my hand away.
"No you don't, you fucking liar. If you loved me, why'd you leave me!?" I shout back. Her beautiful eyes get teary.
"I had no other way." She says. "You could cure yourself! I was 15 Mom. I was 15! I will never forgive you Mom. I knew nothing and you made me face life all alone mom." I yell and cry, broken sobs leaving my mouth.
She starts to burn down, and I fall to my knees. There's nothing but burnt ashes around me. Everything gets dark and it drowns me. My vision goes blurry and black.
A horried gasp brings me back to life as I wake up breathing fast and hard. My ears keep ringing. I look around and find myself in my bunk. I can hear some faded voices but I can't hear them clear. I sigh and bring a hand over my face and I realize my eyes are wet. Fuck. The terrifying dream comes to my mind again.
I feel my chest ache when I remember my mother. Why did I yell at her? I never used to yell at my mother. She came to show me her love and I made her beautiful blue eyes cry. But it's not my fault that she left me right!? She could stay. She could stay and raise his son the way she wanted. She could've...ugh.
I rest my hands on my knees and stare at my fingers shaking. My hands clinch into a fist. Fuck it all. This shity drinking habbit got me so fucked up. When my ears stop ringing I take a deep breath and decide to get out of my own hell. The bus's trembeling as usual, the sound of the engines banging in my head.
I close my eyes and frown as the sunlight blinds me. I stumble over and fall on my knees. Fuck I hate being hungover after a great night of drinking.
"Hey Hetfield, need a hand?" Lars's voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I look up and take his hand.
"You look like shit." Lars greets. I eye him a "fuck off Ulrich" and head to our 5 star high class toilet, succesfully I don't fall down this time. After throwing my guts up and trembeling with weakness, I wash my face.
I hear my mom's words. She always used to tell me that The brightest flame burns the quickest. I give out a bitter laughter, maybe you're right mom. Maybe Im near the end, Im only months away from being 27. I can see the newspapers headline cristal clear : "Alcohol kills Metallica's James Hetfield, the new member of the 27 Club."
Great! I just have to keep myself alive 'till my birthday so I can die in the right time. I shake my head. I get out and see Kirk passed out on a sit, his head sticking to the window, a beer can in his hand. Lars's in his shorts with his sunglasses on, reading some sort of rock magazine.
I massage my temples and sit beside Lars. God my head hurts. Lars snorts as my stomach growls. "There's some shity sandwitch left in my bunk." He says and pushes his hair behind his ear. "Im so fucked man.." I mumble. Lars finally takes his eyes off that stupid magazine and faces me.
"Fucked up? I offer you to take a look at your right." Lars says. I know he's talking about Kirk.
"Is he alive?" I say looking at Kirk's motionless body shaking slightly as the bus trembles.
"I hope so." I hear Lars's voice.
"James, Im worried about him." I look at Lars as he continues "I know you don't do drugs. Newkid's not a fan too. But Kirk, I feel like he's getting a coke issue." Lars explains and sighs.
I huff my breath out. He's right. Kirk's been taking too much drugs lately. Specialy cocaine. Touring only makes it worse, the parties, groupies, dealers everywhere. Kirk didn't even like drugs but it changed after Cliff's death.
We were all too burried down in sorrow that we didn't notice how Kirk slowly sunk down in a fucking coke addiction.
"You should talk to him." I say.
"You think I haven't? He dosen't listen, he just laughs it off." Lars throws the magazine away.
"It's your job." He says looking me dead in eyes. "I will, but it won't work." I sink back in my seat and take a glance on Kirk again. My head hurts so bad and my thoughts only make it worse. How did everything become so fucked up all of a sudden.
I wish I could always stay drunk. Let go, feel no pain. Yes you may not act accurate when you're drunk, but the point is the great numbness you get. Speaking of being drunk, I don't have a single idea how I ended up in my bunk last night. Lars and Kirk were high as kite last night. Maybe the roadies helped my ass and maybe...Jason.
Suddenly a faded dream of Jason kissing me passes my mind. Oh lord, why're you making it harder for me. The last thing I need is having wet dreams about him. There's noway it happened.
Yes I can remember him humming along with some stupid song but..not kissing. The worst thing about being drunk is that you don't know if your drunk memories really happened or not. It feels so real, yet so distant from reality. Why would Jason kiss me. The drunk fucked up abussive me. I can't go ask Jason like "Hey did you kiss ne last night?" No No No.
I can only make sure if he helped me out and maybe thank him. Maybe. My stomach growls again. Fuck. I stand up to get that shity sandwich Lars talked about. It's noon, and I don't have a single idea where we're going, when we'll arrive or anything. I take a big bite from the beef sandwich which isn't really shity, Im too hungry to care.
The urge to talk to Jason dosen't die in me, it keeps poking me untill I give in. He should be lying in his bunk, arms crossed and a walkman in his ears. Listening to music and killing time. An unknown sorce of stress makes my palms sweat.
I take another big bite, the swallow it hard and clear my throat.
"Hey Newkid." No answere. I decide to pull the dirty ugly black curtaine aside and there he is as I imagined; His eyes flutter shut, his fingers interwined around the walkman, his hair tied back. I take a moment or two to look at him. Like a fucking creep, with a half eaten sandwich in my hand and a mustach that has probably some bread stuck in it. But I can't help it.
I hate it but I can't help admiring how he looks like a saint sleeping in peace, so beautiful yet so threatening. I sigh and stop staring at him. I clear my throat again and give out a growl.
"Newkid!" His eyes shot open as he sits up fast and takes out the walkman. Man do I hate waking him up like this.
"J..James hi I was uh" panic starts to rise up in his figure.
"Chill, I was just trying to ask if you got my ass on the bus last night." I say. For some reason, I want him to confirm it.
"Yeah I uh, you were drunk and I yes." He says, still eyeing me with doubt. A smirk appears on my lips. A part of me keeps yelling at me, but the other part of me wants to believe my lucid dreams.
"Cool." I say and sit beside him. Where's this stupid confidence coming from? Jason sits still, not even moving an inch.
"You hungry?" I say. Why did I even sit here? Why am I acting like this. My brain dosen't take orders from me anymore.
"Not really, I had some buiscuit." Jason mumbles as he lowers his head, staring at his fingers.
"So...you got any buiscuit left?" I say as I take the last bite of my sandwich. James Hetfield, first day of school. Yay! Jason moves around, his hands searching in the white dirty sheets, then he hands me a half empty cartoon of strawberry flavour buiscuits.
I take them and throw him a creeped look. Jason breaks into an awkward giggle that makes my stomach churn.
"Don't judge me man, it's not like we have full menu on tour." I take one in my mouth and taste the sweet on my teeth.
"I hope we have enough vodka to wash of the strawberry smell of the Mighty Het's mouth." Jason mumbles laughing to himself. I chuckle but it dies down soon as I remember Kirk.
I've never asked help from anyone , not directly. But this time, my heart wants to break some rules. Maybe it's fear, fear of losing another brother. Im gonna talk to Kirk anyways but it'd be better if someone held an eye on him too. I want to trust him.
"Jason, we need to talk."