Lying. One of the worst and most despicable acts which someone could do. why would you lie? honesty is always the way to go. Johnny hated liars. and he came to terms with himself that he lied about not liking Vanity. he lied about hating her. He lied about not loving her.
He loved her. He did like her. He didn't hate her.
He loved her.
and now he was able to move the part of him that lied away from the part that is now comfortable with the truth. He loved her, she didn't love him. He had to get over it and accept it.
So with a cool confidence and without a care Johnny spoke his mind...the only problem was Mickey was reading every single word of it.
"Vanity!" He shouted her. "What?" She shouted back from the other room. Mickey and Tiffany ended up spending a lot of time in Sid and Vanity's hotel room so it wasn't odd to find them there.
"Come here! You'll wanna read this" Mickey kicked his feet up on the coffee table. She huffed and walked into the bedroom, getting ready for Sid's first gig.
She saw the newspaper hanging loosely in his hands as he held it out to her. "Read it" He said. Vanity hesitated before grabbing the paper, looking for the section Mickey was talking about.
He reached over and pointed to the column where he wanted her to read.
As she began to read the words on the page her eyes darted faster across the paragraph.
Former singer of the Sex Pistols John Loydn better known as Johnny Rotten made this statement about his former band-mate Sid Vicious and his girlfriend Vanity Howard.
"I was bored of singing the same chronic set over and over, for two years. And I was bored stiff with Sid's juvenile behaviour. And his girlfriend is completely irrelevant. Just another problem which Sid has on his shoulders.
I have no interest in either of them.
Both of them can go off and kill themselves and no one will care."
Anger was now the only thing which filled Vanity's head. "That bastard" she raised her voice and slammed the paper down on the floor. The statement had reached America.
Vanity's hands trembled with rage as she clenched her fists, the words on the page burning into her mind like a branding iron. She could feel the blood rushing to her face, her vision blurring with fury as she struggled to contain the storm of emotions raging within her.
"That absolute bastard!" she seethed, her voice laced with venom as she paced back and forth across the room. "Who does he think he is, talking about us like that? Talking about Sid like that?"
Mickey watched her with a mixture of concern and apprehension, unsure of how to diffuse the situation. He had seen Vanity angry before, but never like this. There was a fire in her eyes, a fierce determination that made him wary of crossing her.
"Vanity, calm down," he urged, his voice gentle but firm. "You know Johnny, he's always been a bit of a prick. Don't let this get to you" He said but Vanity just huffed and plopped herself down on the bed. "But it's in the paper. not even just the British one. It's reached fucking America!" she exclaimed.
"Yeah well it has to don't it? It's a statement about you and Sid, and where are you and Sid?" Mickey asked. Vanity didn't answer so he answered for her. "America."
She looked up at him "I guess you're right. i just thought we'd moved past this and yet he's still talking about it." she shook her head and Mickey sighed.
"Well-"
*Knock Knock Knock*
their heads turned to the noise. "Who's that?" Mickey asked and Vanity huffed. "God, every time there's a knock at the door even back in England you say 'Who's that?' Vanity mocked in a deep voice. "That's a very annoying habit you've got. i mean how the hell do i know who it is?" She asked rolling her eyes. "Go and answer the door and find out" She said and pointed to the now frequent knocking sound.
Mickey groaned before turning on his heel like a very annoyed child and shuffled lazily to the door. Mickey always did that whenever he was annoyed, he was like a little kid most times even though he was 21, Mickey reached the door, irritation evident in every step he took. With a heavy sigh, he yanked the door open, fully prepared to give whoever was on the other side a piece of his mind.
However, his annoyance quickly turned to confusion as he found himself face to face with a young woman dressed in a black dress and black net gloves. Her striking green eyes pierced through him, and her red lipstick accentuated the intensity of her gaze.
"Are you Michael Allen?" she asked, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. Mickey's defensive stance faltered for a moment as he struggled to process the unexpected question. "Uh, yeah, who's asking?" he replied, his tone cautious.
But before he could get any clarification, Vanity's voice rang out from behind him. "Who is it, Mickey?" she called out, her curiosity piqued by the exchange at the door.
Mickey's gaze flicked back to the woman, his suspicion growing as he realised that he didn't recognise her. Before he could respond, the woman's demeanour shifted, her expression hardening as she caught sight of Vanity.
"Vanity Howard," she stated, her tone icy and accusatory. "I've been looking for you."
Mickey sensed something wasn't right, and not wanting to deal with whatever this woman's problem was, he tried to shut the door, As Mickey's hand reached for the doorknob to shut the door, the woman's sudden movement caught him off guard. With a swift step forward, she wedged her foot between the door and the frame, preventing Mickey from closing it completely.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Mickey exclaimed, his voice tinged with alarm as he tried to push the woman back. But she was surprisingly strong, her determination evident in the way she braced herself against the door.
"Let me in," she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding. "I need to speak to Vanity."
Mickey's brows furrowed in confusion, his instincts telling him that something wasn't right. "I said no," he replied firmly, his hand gripping the door more tightly in an attempt to shut it.
But the woman refused to back down, her eyes narrowing with frustration as she pushed against Mickey's resistance. In a sudden burst of movement, she reached into the folds of her dress, withdrawing a gleaming pocket knife.
In a swift and fluid motion, she thrust the blade into Mickey's upper chest, sending a shock of pain coursing through his body. He stumbled backwards, clutching at the wound as a wave of dizziness washed over him. "Holy shit!" Mickey shouted
"Oh my god Mick!" Vanity shouted "Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you!" He screamed out, Mickey crumpled to the floor, clutching his wounded chest, Vanity rushed to his side, her hands trembling as she assessed the severity of the injury. Blood seeped through Mickey's fingers, staining his shirt a dark crimson as he struggled to catch his breath.
Vanity took a look back at the woman. her green eyes eerily familiar, Vanity got up to move however the woman dropped the knife and instead from her small red handbag she pulled out small type of gun, it looked like a pocket pistol and Vanity now felt fearful. this wasn't something they could just escape now. this was dangerous.
This was Fear
A/N: WHO DO YOU THINK THE WOMAN IS???