So Close (a James Hetfield story)

Chapter 43

I felt a hollow ache deep in my chest at the words so casually uttered.

...eating and fucking are his two favorite pastimes.

"Hey, are you ok?" It was the fan whose photo I'd been signing moments ago; an innocent exchange that unexpectedly became a bitter insight into James' life while we'd been apart. "Are you ok," Kevin asked again worriedly.

"I...I'm fine," I managed to respond, even as I felt frozen with pain.

"Ok...if you're sure." I could feel him looking at me, but I couldn't make myself meet his gaze. "Well thanks again for the autograph, it means a lot."

I was vaguely aware of him taking the photo out of my hand and walking away.

Wrapping arms around myself didn't do a damn thing to ward off the chill spreading through my body at Kevin's disclosure. Feeling eyes on me, I looked up to see James grinning at me, but I couldn't muster a single emotion back. I felt numb. I felt empty.

His smile froze, his gaze darkening, and he made to move towards me. I turned then and fled, blindly finding the nearest exit as I felt the walls closing in on me. James was shouting my name but I couldn't stop, I couldn't look at him at that moment as image after image of him fucking one faceless woman after another filled my mind. I couldn't stop them, though my heart was crying out at the pain, my mind wouldn't let me ignore the reality that he'd fucked his way through each day we were apart with god knew how many women. 

I stopped short as a sob of anguish got caught in my throat.

"Breathe baby."

James' anxious voice seemed to be coming from far away, though I knew he'd caught up to me and was stroking my back soothingly. I tried to catch my breath, squeezing my eyes shut against the images that taunted me cruelly.

"Leila, what happened baby?" Jamie pulled me into his arms, his hands never stopping as they gently ran up and down my back. "Did someone do something or say something to upset you?"

I nodded my head, still unable to form words.

"Who did it?" he questioned fiercely, "I'll fuckin' kill them!"

The irony of his words broke through the pain. "You!" I choked out. "It was you!"

He pulled back to look at me, his eyes wide with surprise. "What did I do—"

"Eat, fuck!" I practically shouted, having found my voice again.

"Oh shit."

I pulled out of his arms and pushed away from him; I couldn't bear to have him touching me, not with everything swirling in my head.

"'Oh shit' is right," I sneered. "Apparently your appetite for screwing every available female is legendary."

"Leila—"

"You literally just told me the other night that all you had was the band and touring...but that was bullshit! You said you were missing me...but when did you have time when you were too busy fucking!"

I was shaking with hurt and anger. Maybe some of it was irrational, we had been apart, he hadn't been cheating. Plus he was a rock star, and even if I hadn't already heard the rumors, I knew that women were constantly vying for his attention. Hell, he'd even gotten himself engaged; I wasn't so naïve to think that he'd been celibate all this time. But knowing how broken I'd been all those years, and to know now that he'd filled his time with one woman after another, being intimate in ways that should have been for he and I alone...I felt betrayed. I felt sick at the thought of all those hands on his body, their lips on his lips, and absolutely heartbroken that his lips and hands had touched them back. And deep down I had to wonder, now that he'd lived a life of total sexual excess, would he ever be satisfied with just one woman for the rest of his life?