Happy twelfth birthday, Billy. Getting shoved down the stairs was a great present, thanks dad!" His voice was cynical, and Slash felt very disturbed. "The reason I can't stand small spaces is due to his little 'repentance closet' that he'd stash me in for hours at a time when he was sick of dealing with me. Usually, there wasn't even any light in there."
"Axl-." Slash started, but was cut off.
"No, this is good, Slash." He said, angrily pacing the room now. "You wanted to share, so that's what we're doing.
"Okay, okay." He said. "We don't have to do this, Axl-"
"No, you wanted to hear it. Here it is." Axl said. "Did you know that I used to wear long sleeves, even in the summer, just to cover up the bruises?" Axl looked down at his arms, covered them with his hands. Slash wrapped his arms around him.
"I'm sorry." He said. Axl was physically trembling, and Slash held him tighter. "Axl, I'm sorry. We're done, okay? It's over." Axl was taking shaky breaths, his mouth clenched in a frown. Slash held him for a few minutes while he calmed down.
"Is that what you wanted to hear?" Axl asked. "And even when I was able to escape, and get out of that fucking house for a while, I still wasn't away from being hounded. I'd love to tell you about all the times I was arrested, thrown in prison like a fucking dog for no fucking reason. How about the