Söbriety • Mötley Crüe •

115. Sad Ending Part Two

A/N: Correction, this is the longest chapter I've ever written! (10.7k!)

Can Heaven fall into my lonely Earth?
'Cause Hell is where I know you won't return
-Dayseeker, Neon Grave

Warnings: Suicide & The Aftermath

PART ONE: A Sample of the Letters

March 4th, 1993

Ryan,

I feel stupid doing this, but the grief counselor I've started seeing suggested that writing to you might help me heal. He thinks writing down the shit circling my fucking mind on a loop and getting it all on paper will help me move on.

As if I'll ever be able to move on from you.

It's been two weeks since you left, and I know I'll never be the same. It's like the pain of losing you goes so deep that it's permanently mutilated my DNA.

Dr. Grief-Master (that's what I like to call him) is alright I guess, but he's pretty shallow. He went into a whole spiel the first time we met on how he lost his brother ten years ago and that's why he got into counseling. Like that's supposed to make him qualified? His fucking brother? Maybe it's wrong of me to say, but that's fucking baby shit compared to what I've lost. Once he has to hold the love of his life's cold corpse in his arms, or has to watch his dead child be born, then he can teach me about grief. Dude has absolutely no idea what it feels like to have your heart ripped right out of your chest and stomped into the dirt.

Why am I going to someone I deem unfit to help me, you ask?

Because I'm an idiot, Ryan, that's why.

You already knew that, but I've hit a new low. Like, the lowest of the fucking lows. I didn't even know I could go any lower than the shit I used to pull in my twenties. But here I am, at the bottom of the fucking hole, wondering if I'll ever find my way back up.

Did you realize you left about ten dollars worth of junk in the black bag under the bathroom sink? Did you leave it there to taunt me? Or were you trying to give me a moments reprieve from the fucking hell you left me in? Did you just not give enough of a fuck to make sure that the house our four year old daughter lives in was clean before you killed yourself? Or were you just so wrapped up in trying to get away from us that it slipped your mind?

Whatever it was, I found it about a week ago and I used it. I mean, how could I not?

Now, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't on the day of your funeral. The day I had to stand in front of a hundred people and give a speech about you and your life and what you fucking meant to me.

Did you know that we even knew a hundred people? I didn't. There were people there we hadn't seen in years, Ry. People that didn't give a damn to check on you after we lost the baby. People that didn't even have the fucking decency to pick up the phone and call after it was plastered across the papers. Layla was there. Fucking Donna was there, for Christ sake! Why she thought she had the privilege of coming after all the shit she pulled with you, I have no fucking idea.

Her nose is still crooked, by the way. It's actually pretty funny looking.

I don't know why we had a real funeral anyway. I guess Sharise and I were just too exhausted and sad to plan something cool like you guys did for Riley.

Maybe after the third or fourth death in your life, you just stop caring to do cool shit for people that aren't even there to see it.

Sorry, I'm getting off on a tangent. I'm supposed to be telling you what happened.