Fading to Black // Kirk Hammett

27. Fuckin' Traitor

September 14th, 1984

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After the night I found out that Dave got back into heroin, we never spoke about it. He never said anything to me, and I never confronted him out of fear, of how he'd react.

Nonetheless, me finding out didn't change much. Let's just say we don't exactly sleep in the same bed anymore.

The arguing had gotten worse, and more frequent. He'd get mad over every little thing now, he's pushed me a few times, but nothing major. Even Junior has to step in to get him off my ass sometimes.

I don't even remember the last time we said, 'I love you.' to each-other. Any sliver of hope I once had for this relationship was slithering away.

It's exhausting, but I can't bring myself to walk away. If I walk away from Dave, I feel like I'm just giving up on him. The night when Junior looked at me, practically pleading me not to with his eyes, and asked if I was gonna leave him won't leave my mind.

After the I just can't bring myself to do it, not for this. I feel like I need to help him somehow, I mean he was there for me.

It's just growing harder and harder each day, and I still am at a loss of what to do.

I had gone out drinking with Marty and Nick last night. Dave and Junior were non-stop arguing, so we slipped out while we had the chance, and went to get some drinks.

I don't think I've ever gotten so fucking drunk in my life, and I don't think I've ever seen someone drink as much as Marty and Nick did.

The second you'd think they were done, they just ordered more drinks, and somehow talked you into helping them finish 'em off.

We were all completely fucking shit-faced before we even left the bar. I don't remember going back to the tour bus, or what even happened when we got there for that matter.

I'm assuming Dave and I had ended up drunkenly arguing, like I said I don't remember, and glad I don't at that.

All I know is that I was definitely fucking paying for it now. This has got to be the worst hangover I've had in my entire life, I've puked at-least five times, and my head feels like it's being hammered on.

Unfortunately, the guys go on in about two hours, so I'm gonna have to suck it up soon.

I stumbled to my feet, slowly making my way toward the bathroom. I momentarily shuffled through the cabinet, searching for some pain meds, but shortly gave up once I noticed there weren't any left.

I groaned in frustration, as I heard footsteps approaching.

"This is why we don't drink like a fucking dumbass." Dave smiled sarcastically, looking at me as I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Dave can we please not do this right now? I seriously feel like shit." I mutter, heavily sighing afterward.

"Your fucking fault not mine." He scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning in the doorway.

I blankly looked up at him, then back at the floor. I felt like I was about to collapse.

"Dave please, where are the pain meds?" I questioned weakly, rubbing my forehead.

I saw a glimmer of concern in his eyes for a moment, but it quickly went away.

"Shit outta luck, someone prolly' took 'em all." He shrugged, looking down at me.

I was about to say something, before I quickly threw myself over the toilet puking yet again.

"Gross." Dave muttered from behind me.