heaven ☆ mick mars

36.

36.

the weeks that followed were bullshit. complete and utter bullshit, to put it lightly.

the band and i continued on their tour around the states, the last stretch of shows were upon us. the shout at the devil tour was almost over.

obviously, the fans still screamed at every performance the boys gave. in fact to them, they probably didn't notice any difference. to me, the energy had changed.

vince wasn't fucking everything in sight. which was...odd. nikki was sober, yet somehow was in a world of his own, distant from the rest of us. tommy was pissed off. at what exactly? i don't know. maybe the shift in atmosphere. he wouldn't stop breaking shit.

mick was...not mick. every party we went to, he became the loud one. the most drunk. the most high. the one starting fights with strangers in booze-filled rages. covering his ass wasn't easy, nothing could calm him down.

when he wasn't drunk, he was even more reserved than usual. out of sight, almost. if there was another room for him to be in besides the one we were in, he would be off like a shot.

i steered clear of his path, terrified of how this could all possibly end. we were in pieces. a negative spiral that could only go so far before snapping.

doc tried his best to heal the broken parts of us, it was no use. i was still numb from what had happened, everyone was finding their own unhealthy way of dealing with it.

mom and john went off the radar once again, which had me on edge.

their threat was a grave one, according to their forged documents, i was too young to not be in their care.

to make a threat like that, then walk away? it made no fucking sense.

i sat and pondered the whole situation as i sat in the booth of some nightclub diner. occasionally, i would look up to see tommy snorting a line at another table, vince had a thousand girls grinding on him yet he held a blank expression, and nikki was nowhere to be seen. probably on the bus, his new hideout.

mick was laughing his ass off in the booth that looked the most alive. he was surrounded by people, all playing some sort of betting game.

the tear between me and mick had separated us all. especially when the pictures of mick and joanna got released by the press. assholes. that's the press AND mick and joanna, by the way.

and yet i still saw his expression change when his eyes met mine. as if he'd sobered up in seconds, remembering everything.

well, it's safe to say i'd just about had it. 8 shows left, and i was fucking over it.

i grabbed my purse and stood up from the booth. i refused to sit on my own, depressed, for any longer.

my eyes whipped towards the sound of a bottle smashing, a male shout following it.

"jesus, tommy.." i walked up to him quickly as everyone watched him. he'd launched a beer bottle at the floor. i grabbed his arm gently and guided him to the door. "come on, let's get out of here."

most of the people at mick's table just laughed, but not him. he was running from the truth and we all knew it. whatever. let him get on with it.

the drummer stumbled out of the doorway as i struggled to keep him upright. "c'mon tommy, work with me here.." he was so fricking tall.

tommy then stood up and walked on his own onto the parking lot.

"lilly...look..." he leant down and picked something up on the floor. a strip of barbed wire, which he proceeded to hold up to his hair, as if he was wearing a headband. "do i look pwetty?"