everybody needs a little time away, i heard her say, from each other. even lovers need a holiday, far away, from each other…
peter cetera’s voice pours from the speakers and fills the sweet-smelling interior of the red jeep wrangler with a hint of nostalgia, but the driver doesn’t seem to notice. her sightless eyes remain fixated on the winding road ahead, looking but not really seeing. a fresh wave of tears blurring her vision, and still her foot continues to steadily apply more and more pressure to the gas pedal. she could care less she’s a long way from home, on decker canyon road; the road famous for two things — an impressive pile of rust-covered chassis of cars adorning its hills, and its uncanny ability to give even the calmest drivers gray hair and forehead wrinkles. she should pay attention to her surroundings as one wrong turn, one slip of a wheel and it’ll all be over, but… that thought no longer scares her. in fact, she embraces it. she’s been driving aimlessly for almost two hours now, trying to muster enough courage and looking for the perfect spot to put an end to all this pain. she doesn’t remember when exactly she lost all will to live but it must have been a gradual process, and now her mind’s made up — she needs a way out…
she catches a glimpse of her face in the rearview mirror and quickly looks away, appalled by what’s looking back at her. she resembles something straight out of a nightmare. her lip is busted and swollen, dry blood clinging to the corner of her mouth. her cheeks are puffy and red, tears mixed with mascara racing across the irritated skin. a purple bruise is beginning to bloom beneath her left eye. she makes a mental note to herself to cancel that trip to new york tomorrow morning, no fashion week or photoshoot for her, not anytime soon, her husband sorted that out. it was a particularly nasty fight, even as for their standards. the most violent one yet, she thinks, feeling helpless. it all started when the singer came back home later than expected, smelling like cheap beer and another woman’s perfume, and she decided to confront him right there and then. where’d he been? with whom? she threw all kinds of accusations at him before he even managed to take off his jacket. she told him she knew he’d been tempering with her birth control — did he really think she was an idiot and wouldn’t see a difference? then she told him, or rather half-screamed half-cried, that she was tired of the constant lack of attention from him. he was never there for her, not unless he wanted something from her, all while expecting her to be available at any given time. and so it went from there, neither needing more than a spark to ignite their fury. at some point, she ended up throwing an ashtray at him, aimed at his face but it hit him in the shoulder. glass scattered everywhere. she also delivered the first slap. though, when he finally retaliated, she didn’t really stand a chance.
and so here she is, all alone, with nowhere to go and a head full of terrifying ideas. she can’t go back home now, doesn’t want to go back home now. or really ever again. she’s finally had enough. she can’t keep going on like this. she’s decided that she won’t take him back no matter what he does or says. and who knows, maybe he won’t come crawling back this time ‘round? maybe he’ll keep his word and stay away from her. wouldn’t that be something? the only thing that she’ll miss is his dog, but other than that, she figures she’ll finally feel free, find happiness again. it will take time, but she’ll get through it. unfortunately, as she’s dwelling over the fateful events of tonight, the low-fuel warning light illuminates on the dashboard and captures her attention. even in the state that she’s in, she figures she can’t let her car die in the middle of nowhere in almost complete darkness. she might have a death wish, but she wouldn’t want the sentence to be carried out by some hobos with switchblade knives and rotting teeth. besides, she’s growing more and more tired, and who is she kidding? she could spend the next ten hours in this car and still she wouldn’t have the guts to drive it off a cliff.
she has to find a place to stay, but her options are limited to say the least. she thinks about going to the only place where she’ll always be safe and loved — her mother’s house. she wants nothing more than for her mom to take her into her arms and hold her, tell her that she did the right thing by finally leaving that man. however, one more glance at her reflection has her coming back to her senses. she simply can’t let her own mother see her like this. it would break venetia’s heart. she could go to meegan, but meegan’s seen too much already and it wouldn’t be fair to put her through this all over again. she could go to taryn’s, but she’s too embarrassed. her childhood friend’s never been particularly supportive of her relationship with the singer, and erin doubts she could handle a single didn’t i tell you so? she figures she could go to mandy’s, but it’s been almost two months since the last time they spoke. she and duff finalized their divorce at the beginning of april, and although the two women had tried to stay in touch at first, their bond deteriorated. if erin showed up at her doorstep now, she’d be putting both of them in an uncomfortable position. she could always go to a motel, but even though she’s toying with the idea of ending her life, she doesn’t want to go down quietly. what she really wants is attention. and to make the redhead pay for her suffering. and who else knows just how awful her husband can be? who would take her side in a heartbeat in any situation? who wouldn’t pity her or look away from her bruised face in disgust? who could help her get rid of this pain? there’s only one person, she decides and heads for laurel terrace where an old friend of hers currently resides.
steven. she’s never felt any sort of romantic attraction towards the drummer, even though neither can deny the strange tension that blooms between them when their eyes meet or hands brush against one another by accident. they’re good friends, that’s all there is to it, erin insists and her heart agrees — she’s only ever truly loved one man and never felt attracted to any of his brothers. how weird would that be? but she’d have to be blind and stupid to think steven feels the same way about her. he must have had a crush on her at some point (and maybe still does), or maybe he only found her interesting because of the strange rivalry between him and axl that’d been going on for months back when they first started hanging out. either way and whatever the reason, he’s always in her corner. he greets her with a smile, cracks jokes and makes her laugh even when she doesn’t feel like laughing… and unlike the other guys, who would much rather swallow a pile of shattered glass than openly take a side in the war of the roses, he never hesitates to choose her and call axl out on his behavior. she thinks their bond goes back to that time when the singer slept with adriana. erin had no one to confide in and steven was the one that she came to, the one who surely understood her pain to a certain degree and could sympathize with her, let her cry on his shoulder. she’s heard rumors that he’s no longer the same person now, that his addiction’s spiraled out of control, but she, naively, refuses to believe that. they all do drugs and drink. they’re only ganging up on him because he keeps getting under axl’s skin, and everyone always does as axl pleases… somehow, at this particular moment, that fact only makes steven’s house a more attractive destination in erin’s eyes. she won’t have to lie to him about what’s happened to her and he’ll surely have something for her pain. something stronger than valium. and so she makes up her mind.
it’s an hour long drive, but she makes it in almost half that time. driving recklessly just because at this point she’s got nothing to lose, wondering if she’ll eventually run out of gas or crash into some truck. her thoughts keep coming back to the fight, replaying all the horrible things that she said to axl, all the horrible things he said to her, causing more tears to well up in her tired eyes. her mind’s clearly trying to guilt her, make it seem like maybe she’s deserved all this. she reminds herself that she has to be strong, that she can’t go back now. every time her heart pangs and she begins to feel bad, she lifts her gaze and finds her reflection in the rearview mirror. a good enough reminder as to why she can never go back home. it’s no longer her home. she can’t live with that man, but she also can’t live without him… the irony, she thinks, shifting the car into park and shutting off the engine in the driveway of her friend’s house.
it takes steven a long moment to come to the door and another to actually unlock it. she can hear him fumbling with the chain, struggling to get it off the hook. but when he finally succeeds and invites her in, erin finds herself frozen in place and nearly gasps. he looks worse than ever. his clothes have sweat-stains on them and smell absolutely foul, a combination of booze and smoke and piss. his hair hasn’t been brushed in days, and when he opens his mouth to mumble a surprised hello, erin, she realizes that neither have his teeth. they’re yellowish, with remnants of whatever it was that he’d had for dinner stuck in between. one look into his eyes and she knows he’s both drunk and high, knows all the rumors are in fact true, and for a second feels sick to her stomach, contemplates abandoning her plan altogether and coming up with some silly excuse for her unexpected visit. but where would she go then? she tells herself that she’s feeling so uneasy solely because she hasn’t eaten much today, hasn’t slept either. her stomach feels like it’s been scraped from the inside, but she ignores it and forces herself to step inside, closes the door behind herself. the man in front of her is no longer the person that she used to know and love in the platonic way, he’s just a shell now, but she ignores that, too. the hollow look in his eyes, the odor. he needs help and all his friends have turned their backs on him, that’s why he’s changed so much, she tells herself, feeling sorry for him.
he leads her to a darkened, sunken living room, where heavy, black curtains have been closed for the night, blocking any light from the street. the place is a mess, much like its owner, but erin pushes a few empty cans and used syringe off the couch and sits down all the same, pretending she doesn’t see how what used to be a nice, cozy home is now a mix between a drug den and garbage dump. he offers her a drink and she takes it, out of politeness but also because she really needs to forget about what happened between her and axl. she feels like she’s wasted her life — who is she without him? no one. besides, she tells herself, she can’t be such a priss. she’s never been much of a drinker and so it takes all of her willpower not to just spit that first sip of her beer out. she holds on, forces herself to swallow and then opens up almost immediately, feeling the need to get it all off her chest.
she sniffles and wipes at her cheeks while retelling the story of how she got to where she is, leaving out a few details that could make her look bad. she can’t tell if steven’s really listening to her or just nodding his head and dozing off, his eyes are barely open, but she keeps talking to him all the same. when he finally regains control over his mind and body, at least to a certain degree, he tells her that she deserves better, that he knows the singer just as well as she does and he’s simply not going to change his ways, trades a secret for a secret even and fills her head with the kind of stories that axl kept hidden from her — whether they’re true or not is a whole different thing, of course, but she absorbs them either way. they leave her feeling even more horrible, even more unloved, worthless, and that’s when the drummer offers to help her out. she doesn’t even have to ask, he comes up with the idea to give her something for the pain, claims to have the perfect remedy, one he’s been waiting to share it with her.
they go upstairs. she follows him to his bedroom like a lost puppy, not really thinking much of it because they’re good friends and he’s just trying to help her in a way that no one else would or could. everybody else is too scared of axl to even consider sharing their drugs with her, or maybe too sane to even think about introducing a friend to heroin. most people would take one look at her and know that she’s having a mental breakdown and needs a therapist, not an addiction. but steven’s past the point of caring, all he can think of is another high and the fact that he’s waited for this woman to come to him for years. here she is, finally seeing that he’s a better man than the one who broke her heart, that he’d never lay a hand on her. he helps her out because she’s trembling, her hands shaking as she tells him she’s too scared of needles to do it herself. an anxious laugh rolling off her tongue, pale blue eyes scanning the place for an escape route. she contemplates backing out, but he talks her out of it, assures her this is exactly what she needs. this will make all her problems disappear. and so she extends her skinny arm, hoping he really will end her suffering.
it stings only for a second, but then an impossible warmth begins to spread throughout her entire body. she licks her swollen lips, tasting her own blood but no longer wincing. she closes her eyes, fireworks exploding behind her eyelids, ringing in her ears. but something’s wrong and deep down she can sense it. something’s wrong with her body, with steven, too, with this whole situation. it hits her like a freight train — she doesn’t want to be here, she wants to go home to axl. her chest feels heavy, so heavy that she can barely hold herself up, let alone take a deep breath. her back collides with the soft mattress below and it’s like a carousel, the world around is spinning so fast. for a split second, she’s feeling nauseous and even tries to signal that to her friend, but… is she making sounds or just moving her lips? she knows steven’s saying something back to her, but it seems that his voice is coming from miles away. are they underwater? would explain why it’s so hard to breathe. are her ribs made of lead? she can feel steven’s breath on her cheek, his hand touching her stomach, but her skin’s burning up at that point, and she couldn’t protest or panic even if she wanted to. the darkness and that impossible warmth begin to engulf her whole. gosh, there really must be something heavy sitting on her chest because she can’t breathe, her lungs refuse to expand. she parts her bruised lips but they’ve already begun to turn purple. the last thing she remembers is the sound of knocking coming from downstairs — what she doesn’t know is the man waiting outside, andy, will save her life tonight. she’s losing consciousness but she swears she can see her husband’s face. her mind, deprived of oxygen, must be playing tricks on her but she sees him and runs to him, wraps her arms around his neck and… the heavy, comforting warmth of his embrace feels far too good to not fade into as everything around her turns into dark nothingness.
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