End Of Passion Play - {James Hetfield/Metallica}

Chapter 16 | Snap!

(A/N: TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter involves an eating disorder)

Sarah's p.o.v

I wasn't the type of person to get homesick very easily, but that's how I was feeling. I was feeling bad about myself, too, knowing my drinking was getting out of hand. But I wanted to get better.

I tried to hide it, but I wasn't happy.

I was on my third beer in a bathroom stall. This has to be rock bottom. I thought to myself, tears blurring my vision. This has to be rock bottom. How can it get any worse?

I tilted my head back, finishing off my beer. I dropped the bottle to the floor and it smashed, leaving broken shards of glass all over the floor.

I'm never gonna get better, I'm never gonna recover. I thought. I'm stuck; trapped. I'll never be truly happy again because of a fucking drug!

A sob escaped my mouth, and I stumbled into the stall door, placing a hand over my lips. I began crying uncontrollably, wondering if it would be better if I was dead. I wouldn't be stuck in the vicious cycle I was in anymore, and I couldn't fuck up anyone's life.

It would be better. I told myself.

Once I was done having a mental breakdown, I washed the smudged makeup off of my face. I examined myself in the mirror. My eyes were all red and puffy; it was obvious that I had been crying.

I went out of the bathroom and walked down the dark hall into the backstage area.

"Sarah!" Lars yelled, making me flinch as I walked through the door. "Where the hell were you?! We're going on any second!".

"I'm sorry!" I snapped, grabbing my bass.

"We're going on in, like, one minute!".

"Lars," Kirk sighed, him and James walking over to me. "Stop yelling at Sarah!".

"Something wrong, babe?" James asked me, a sympathetic look in his eyes.

I shook my head and looked down. "It's nothing important. I don't wanna talk about it.".

James sighed, his breath smelling like vodka. "You do know you're an awful liar by now, don't you?" he asked me.

I didn't respond and kept my head down. I was so pissed off at James, I could barely look at him. I was pissed off at myself. I was pissed off at life.

"Is there something we can do for you, Sarah?" Kirk asked me.

"No!" I replied.

"Why are you acting like this!" James asked me, obviously frustrated with how closed off I was being.

I looked up at him finally, and at that moment, Ecstasy of Gold -our entrance song- started playing.

"This conversation isn't over." James told me as we started walking on stage.

Maybe I should try and snap my head off tonight by headbanging. I thought to myself.

***

The thing about me is that as kind as I am, I have a breaking point. And if I get pushed to that breaking point, I snap.

For months, I had felt like I was at rock bottom. And I felt let down by James, seeing him drinking like crazy still.

It was the day before we went home, at the New York Airport, when I broke.

Irritated, I wheeled my suitcase along and walked in front of James, Kirk, and Lars. My head was throbbing from the massive headache I had, probably due to stress.