coke

Nixy's Origin

Name: Nixy Liberty

Real Name: Nicole Kate Rosenfels - Stanley

Sex: Female

Gender: Bisexual

Age: 18

Birth date: April 19, 1964

Instrument preference/s: Drums

Time of Glory: 1986 - so on

Hair color, length and style: Bubblegum pink, short-cut, Marilyn Monroe's curls

Skin color: Caramel skinned

Eye color: Light brown

Height: 5'3

Addicted to: Jack Daniels and bubblegums

Pet/s: Spiders

Love Interest/s: Slash from Guns n' Roses, Nikki Sixx from Motley Crue...and counting.

❣️

I graduated from a religious highschool and I was so proud that I did because I had been through a lot of shit. I didn't even know how I survived, but I could assure you that it wasn't easy for a rocker like me. Everyone judged me of how I dress, my likings and my music preference. Everyone in my school even thought that I had succumbed into a cult life, but in truth I was just being like everybody else in the Golden Age of Rock n'Roll - gettin' high, wasted, and doin' a lot of teenage shit...that's me baby.

As I moved to California to study college afterwards, temptation instantly struck me. It's not my fault. Why would it be when its the famous jungle of rockstars, delinquents, and crackheads? It's like the forbidden city of awesome outlaws and hell I was quick to adapt like a virus infecting someone else's wound. The only problem was...I completely forgot to be an A+ student and finish my course of Psychology. I was so caught up with Rock n' Roll that I failed to submit my needed requirements. Hence, I was dropped out of college in the second semester.

Afraid to tell my parents that I did not make it, I stayed in California, pretending like I was still in college when in reality I was now living on the streets and making money out of drumming recycled materials on the sidewalk. Yup. I was technically a homeless person. But there was this one time when I got a job in a low-key strip club. Not as a stripper though as one might think, but a janitress. By the way, it's so disgusting cleaning every trash cans in the VIP rooms since they were full of used condoms and other splattered orgasmic juices.

At Saturday nights, I would book dog fights and earn 17 dollars out of it. But it's not so good anymore when I got stabbed in the guts by a boy named Lewis in a brwal caused by a misunderstanding about the money. Wounded and 50/50 alive, I endeavored myself to go to the well-known doctor of delinquents and outlaws in some shady bar down the alley called 'Heal and Kill'.

I immediately went to the bar counter and asked for reservations. "I'm here to see the doctor." I demanded to the dude who was making a cocktail.

He stopped and placed the glass aside. "What ailment?"

"Stabbed." I bluntly answered.