Hell On High Heels | Mötley Crüe

Chapter 12: My Everything

October 23, 1985

I heard the harrowing screams before I realized that they were my own. They howled into the night as I sunk down to my knees. Blood streamed freely down the dark wet pavement, swirling as it joined the water that coated the street. It joined the reflection of the billboards and nightclub advertisements in puddles, creating an image I didn't think I would ever be able to forget. The world felt as though it were simultaneously shrinking and hopelessly expanding at the same time, and I couldn't figure out which was worse. I reached a trembling hand out to Tommys and grasped it, not caring if my hands were crimson because of it. At first I couldn't see it through the tears in my eyes, but Tommy's body was weakly rising and falling. He was alive. For now.

I could feel my eyes widen. "Tommy," I reached out to touch his scratched up face. "Tommy, please wake up." I begged. A hand found its way to my shoulder.

"Ma'am, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to move." A glimpse in the direction behind me relieved a paramedic. He gently pushed me aside and went to Tommy's side. With the help of his partner, they lifted him into the ambulance. I barely had time to climb into the back before we took off, the blaring sirens washing out the noise of the city.

...

I couldn't remember how I got there, but I found myself in the hospital waiting room. It was so starkly white it was practically blinding. The floors were kept as squeaky clean as the walls, so if your eyes went out of focus, they blended together into a desolate white.

Occasionally a nurse or two passed carried clipboards and mumbling amongst themselves, but I barely noticed. I was too lost in thought. I sank further into the stiff plastic chair, trying my best to clear my mind, only to find that it was impossible. How could I find peace of mind when Tommy's life was in danger? He might be slipping away at this very moment, and I wasn't allowed to be with him. I had always thought that fear was an emotion inflicted by the things you're unsure of. And to some extent, I suppose that is true. Considering I wasn't sure that he would make it. But even when I dug in the back of my mind, I couldn't find a single memory of feeling so afraid as I did in this moment. I wasn't afraid of the unknown, I was afraid of reality. The realistic ending that these types of stories always seem to end with. The cold and unbearably harsh possibility of death.

The thought was enough breakdown right there in the waiting room.

Then, for the second time that day, a hand found its way to my shoulder. I looked up, meeting eyes with Angela. She had found time to change out of her party clothes and into jeans and a sweatshirt. I looked down, realizing just how ridiculous I looked in my leather skirt and fringe jacket in the hospital. I didn't even want to think about the amount of makeup smeared down my cheeks.

"Hey," She spoke gently to me, as if I were a small child. "I came as soon as I could. How long have you been here?"

I looked out the window and realized with a start that the sun was starting to peek through the blinds.

"I-I don't know."

She looked at me with a pained expression held in her warm brown eyes. "Rebecca, you can't stay here alone." I think she could tell I wasn't moving though, because a mutual understanding seemed to pass between us. So instead of leaving she did something I didn't expect. She sat down next to me.

I filled her in on what I knew, which wasn't much. Tommy had been rushed down to surgery immediately, but I hadn't been able to get much out of the doctors. Angela sat with me for what must have been hours. She didn't try to make small talk, which I appreciated. I think she could tell that just being here was what I needed. She was flipping through a dull magazine titled How you can lose five pounds today! When a doctor finally approached us.