rock lovers - kirk hammett story 🖤

One (get it?)

luna's pov:

august 3rd, 1984 - new york, united states

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TW!! (self harm, mention of overdose, drugs, eating disorder)

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i woke up this late summer morning at nearly 11 am. my sleep schedules been shit lately and i don't know how to fix it. i stay up all night, listening to music and smoking away.

i'm almost 18 but it doesn't feel so special anymore. it hasn't since rose died.

rose was my little sister, only 2 years younger than me. she died in '82 but it feels like yesterday. i never thought it would happen so soon. it feels like just yesterday me and rose were dancing in the kitchen at midnight playing "i love rock 'n' roll" by joan jett & the blackhearts. we would stay up all night listening to our favorite music and talking about drama in the city.

she was my only sister. the only person who made me feel like i had someone. the only person who told me that everything was going to be okay. i would do anything to have her come back, to hold her until she fell asleep after a long night of dancing like maniacs.

i didn't start drinking and smoking until she died. i used to just have fun and hang out with my friends and live the regular life that a 15 year old would want to live. everything's just been different since then. my whole world has shifted and i don't know if I'll ever get it back. i miss my old world.

i have something to look forward to today. my 3rd concert that ive been to. i'm seeing a band named metallica. i've seen their name all over the record shops downtown and on the billboards in times square. i bought a few records at ben's, the store I work for, and i enjoy their music a lot. i wanted to see what it was like to actually go to a concert of theirs, so i bought front row tickets. kirk in particular has caught my attention.

i work at ben's record shop. i don't make much money from it but it helps me when i need it. dad doesn't make good money anymore. i practically live on my own while he's trying to keep us alive and in one piece. mom gave up on us a few months before rose died. she told us we weren't satisfying her and we weren't being a good family.

all mom cared about was the fucking drugs. it's all she ever wanted, the heroin being injected into her veins and going through her bloodstream. she overdosed so many times and i feel numb thinking about it. i had to see it so many times, too many times to count, to the point i don't even feel hurt anymore when I think about it.

anytime i ever had to watch mom overdose, rose helped me through it. she struggled just as much as i did but she made me feel okay. it hurts because she was only 13 and going through so much. i dealt with a lot that young too but it's different when you watch someone else go through it too.

i lazily got up and went to the empty kitchen. there's barely even food here but me and dad are trying our best. i pull my sleeves up and notice my cuts from the night before. i don't know why i continue to do this, i just end up feeling guilty and regretting it.

cutting is like the only thing that makes me feel something. the adrenaline that i feel is like euphoria. to me, it's equally as good as weed is.

i search through the fridge, scrambling to find something to eat. i haven't ate since wednesday, two days ago. i have a eating disorder I think. dad's not willing to get it clinically proven because he thinks they'll take me away. they might, people are crazy nowadays. guess that makes me one of 'em.