Book 1: She's A Little Runaway (Izzy Stradlin)

Twenty-One

● Reyna ●

Silence.

That's all that fills this small apartment. And it feels lonely. It feels like it did before I found my brother.

I hate it.

Izzy left to go practice at the Gardner space. Normally I'd go with him, probably looking like a clingy girlfriend, but today I have to work. It's just a lot easier if I stay at the apartment because of the short walk. The Gardner space is all the way across town.

I sigh as I walk into the bathroom. I need a shower.

At that thought I reached into the shower and turned on the water. My shower is one that's not a shower/tub combo. I begin to undress, stepping into the steamy air. I shut the shower door behind me. I wash my hair and body, letting thoughts run rampant in my head.

"You're still working here? You haven't moved on to something fucking amazing yet? What about singing? You're one hell of a singer! You could beat Vinny any day!"

Tommy's words ring through my mind. I feel like a failure. Five years have passed and I'm still exactly where they left me. It was acceptable when I was eighteen, but now I'm twenty-four and all I did was get a promotion to bartender. I had such a promising life.

I always imagined myself going to some amazing college, making amazing friends, and getting an amazingly high paying job. An amazing life.

I'm sure my younger self would be very disappointed in me.

As soon as I crawled out my bedroom window and left Stevie behind, that girl died. I changed that night. I'm not sure if it was for the better. However, if I stayed at home my creativity would have been crushed just as my spirit had been.

If I had stayed, I would have never met Izzy or Axl or Slash or Duff. Well, I guess I would still have met those four because of Steven, but I would've been a completely different person. They probably wouldn't even like me. I wouldn't be with Izzy. I would never have met Tommy or Mick or Vince. I can live with never meeting Nikki.

So, I guess it's a good thing I ran, in the end. I just have to figure out what my goal in life is.

I don't think I need to figure that out at this very moment, though. I need to focus on getting the boys more gigs around the Sunset Strip. I know that they're working on their album, but they need to promote its release. Los Angeles knows their name for the most part. Now we just need to ensure that they'll buy the album.

I finish my shower, getting out. I grab a towel from the towel rack and wrap my wet hair in it. I walk to Izzy and I's bedroom. I put on a bra and underwear before slipping on the bar uniform. When that's finished, I allow myself to sit on the bed. I rest my head in my hands, letting out a sigh.

This is why I try not to let Izzy leave my side. He keeps my mind at bay. He keeps me focused on him, even if he doesn't know that he does that or not. I have half a mind to go down to the Gardner space right now and hang out with the guys until my shift starts, but I'd only be there for thirty minutes.

I take the towel off of my head and grab the brush that's sitting on the nightstand. I run it through the tangles of my thick hair, wincing every once in a while as the brush finds a knot. I think for a moment before deciding to throw the wet hair up in a bun. I don't have the patience to blow dry it right now.

As I sit in the silence, my eyes roam around the room. I turn around to look at the nightstand on Izzy's side. My eyes almost glide by it, but then something catches my attention. The top of a plastic bag poking out from the bottom drawer.

Against my better judgement, I get off the bed and walk to the nightstand. I get onto my knees. I pull open the drawer, my breath catching in my throat. The baggie that was poking out is full of an all too familiar white powder. Beside the bag are multiple unused syringes, spoons, a piece of cloth, and a lighter. So this is where he was keeping it. I wasn't looking for it, but I almost expected him to accidentally leave it out in the open at some point.

I take the bag out of smack and lean against the bed. I let my legs spread out in front of me, the smack in my hands that rest on my lap. I look down at it. Here comes the internal struggle. Should I or should I not? Another twisted version of 'To be or not to be?'.

I know I shouldn't. I know that this is a bad idea. I would have to be an idiot to let myself get caught up in this again.

However, before I can even register what I'm doing, I pull a spoon, syringe, piece of cloth, and the lighter out of the drawer and lay them beside me.

That longing to feel the head-spinning sensation once again enters my mind. One hit won't hurt, will it? There's that tiny voice in my head that screams not to do it. That it only takes once. But, that voice is overpowered by the louder voice. The more desperate voice.

As if I never stopped, my hands pick up the spoon. I put some of the white powder onto the spoon. Next comes the lighter. I hold the flame underneath the spoon, watching as the powder begins to melt into a dark amber liquid.

The temptation is too strong to resist.

I grab the syringe and fill it with the liquid. I can already feel my regret. I tie the piece of cloth tightly around my bicep so that the vein will be more prominent. I pick up the syringe that I set down and look at it for a few moments.

Here goes nothing.

I inject the needle into my throbbing arm. I push down on the top, the liquid entering my bloodstream. Almost immediately, the feeling of euphoria hits me. Oh, that amazing feeling. I breath out a sigh of relief, untying the cloth with one hand. I let my head go limp and lean against the mattress. I don't have to go in for another two more hours. I should have my head a little more by then.

Izzy's face enters my mind. Then Rob's. Then Steven's.

They're going to be so disappointed in me. What the fuck did I just do?