Categories > Celebrities > Velvet Revolver
Old Habits
0 ReviewsScot resorts back to old habits when the times get tough.
Scott plunged the needle into his arm. He felt the soothing liquid dive into his bloodstream. He smiled slightly.
Scott had told his bandmates that he had stopped for good. He wanted to believe it too. But being a junkie was his life. He had nothing else but the needles and a few odd pills lying around. He was lying on the cold wooden floor of the hotel kitchen. His vision was blurry and contorted, but he could make out the tall appliances that surrounded him. He was sweating even though it was a freezing night, his head was as moist as a fish.
He clenched at his chest. A terrible pain was gradually building itself up. He moaned quietly, face scrunched up. He didn't know what was causing this.
He turned to his side and threw up. The horrible taste of copper was around his mouth. He opened his eyes and saw a pool of blood in front of him. His eyes widened, he knew what this meant.
"Oh shit..." He said quietly to himself. He knew that this meant he had taken too much. But he put the right amount of smack in the tube, didn't he? He swore that he did.
The searing pain returned to his chest. He screamed this time, trying to wake his bandmates that were in the neighbouring rooms. He knew they would be pissed off at him, they may even kick him out of the band. But he didn't want to die this way. He continued screaming at the top of his lungs. Words weren't forming properly, all he could get out was a muddled cluster of noises.
He pressed at his chest. The pain was almost unbearable. So much that he thought he might pass out. He hoped that he would, just so the pain would stop. But then he thought of dying, leaving his two kids without a father. That was worse than this pain. He couldn't stand to leave his kids like that. They meant everything to him, and he didn't want their last image of him to be himself passed out on a hotel floor, shirtless and sweating with a puddle of blood beside his face.
I'm not going to fail them. Not now, not ever. He thought.
He tried to persevere through the pain. It felt like someone had ripped a hole in his chest. And why the hell wasn't anyone helping him? Couldn't they hear his loud obsessive screams?
He lay there, now shivering violently. He could feel the euphoria of the heroin wearing off, not that it was really there in the first place. His head began to ache, made worse by his constant shivering. He wanted to call out to his bandmates, but he knew that they must be fast asleep. It was 2:30 am after all. But Slash wasn't usually asleep at this time. He was usually up doing something, either making up riffs on his guitar or even just throwing a random ball around. That guy must be nocturnal.
"Slash....." Scott tried to yell, but his words faded into nothing. He gradually made his hand grab the top of the stove. He slowly pulled himself up, feeling even more dizzy and disorientated than before. He nearly fell onto the fridge, barely able to steady himself. He dove for the door, smashing his hand onto the handle. He pushed it down. It seemed like it weighed a ton, he could hardly turn it to open the door.
The door opened, and Scott just collapsed in the hallway. His mouth was open just enough to let air pass through, as his nose was blocked. For some reason he always got a blocked nose when he shot up. Maybe it was his immune system or something.
He tried to speak again "Sla-" Was all he could get out. He hoped to god that he wouldn't die in the hallway. That would give the hotel workers a hell of a fright when they went to pick up the room service trays. Not to mention make a huge scene.
He heard a door open. Maybe Slash had heard him? He tried to look up at the figure gradually leaning down. Probably to put their left over food into the hall so someone could collect it. He called out again. "Slash..." The words yet again died in his throat. It just sounded like air coming out of his mouth.
The person looked at him. "Holy shit!" They screamed. But that wasn't Slash's voice, it was Duff's.
Duff ran over to Scott's mangled body. He pressed his fingers across his neck to check his pulse. There was still a heartbeat.
"Scott! Wake up!" Duff slapped him across the face. Scott's eyes looked up and nearly rolled back into his head. He was overdosing in the hallway of a hotel. Real classy, he thought to himself.
Duff hooked his arms around Scott's torso. He lifted him up, realising that his mouth was covered in blood. Duff looked even more worried. He glanced into the room, the door still open. He saw the blood on the floor.
"Fuck." He grabbed Scott's arm and threw it around his neck. He called out for some help.
"Slash! Dave! Matt! fucking get out here!" He yelled. No response. He dragged Scott to the nearest door, making sure that he didn't stop breathing.
He rampantly knocked on the door, desperate to get help. He was not going to let Scott die in his arms. Dave slowly opened the door, looking half asleep.
"Dude! C'mon we need to get him to a hospital!" Duff shouted.
"Wha? Who-" Dave saw Scott dangling from Duff's shoulder. "Holy Fuck!! How..." Dave started.
"I think he overdosed or something. But it doesn't matter, fuck! How are we gunna get him to a hospital?!" Duff was talking incredibly fast.
"Just get him down to the lobby, and I'll get the other guys." Dave was also talking quickly and breathing heavily. He had never seen anyone overdose in front of him before.
Duff rushed Scott to the elevator. As he waited for it to come, he held Scott's head close to him, and said "What the fuck were you thinking? You should have talked to me about this shit"
Dave ran over to the other guys rooms. He banged on the door, only to be glared at by an incredibly pissed off Slash. "What's the fucking emergency?" He asked, sarcastically.
"Scott's overdosed man! Duff's carrying him down to the lobby to get an ambulance!" As soon as he said that, Slash snapped into action. He grabbed a jacket out of the closet and ran over to the elevator. "Get Matt out here" He said to Dave as he moved towards the elevator.
Duff was cradling Scott's thin framed body. He tilted his head in a position so that he could breathe easily. When the elevator doors opened, he screamed at the first hotel person he saw.
"Can we get a fucking ambulance here! He's about to die man!" The hotel person ran to the front desk and called 911. Another person ran up to him and helped him carry Scott. He told him that luckily the hospital was only a couple of blocks down the road, so the ambulance shouldn't take more than 5 minutes to get here.
Duff sat down on the couch, still cradling Scott with his long, muscular arms. Scott had told him straight to his face that he had stopped this shit. Duff didn't care so much that he was lied to, just that he was looked straight in the eye and promised. But Scott broke that promise. Duff just wanted him to be okay.
The ambulance arrived, and Duff dragged Scott into the back. The paramedics rushed him onto a stretcher and put a breathing mask over his face.
"Do you want to come?" One of them asked Duff. He looked back at the other guys who were standing there, each with a look of shock on their faces. Slash stared at Duff, and quietly said "You should go man. He needs you there."
Duff nodded. He climbed into the back of the ambulance, sitting right beside Scott.
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Scott slowly opened his eyes. Everything was hazy, he couldn't remember what happened. He looked around the room, seeing Duff sitting in a chair in the corner.
"Duff...Where am I?" He asked.
"You're in the hospital. You overdosed last night." He talked in monotone, not using any expression in his words. Scott could tell that he felt lied to.
"Oh shit...." Scott trailed off. His voice was still weak. He knew he had let Duff down. Duff was the one who helped him get clean, he was the one who showed him what life was all about. He didn't want Duff to feel like he made no difference in his life.
"Im so fucking sorry man." Scott started. "I was just freaking out about everything. The divorce has been tough as shit, I can't stop thinking about what's gunna happen to my kids..." He said.
Duff just nodded slightly. "I know. But I thought you were stronger than this." He said.
Scott closed his eyes. He had failed himself and Duff. Why did he have to go back to the junk?
"But it's okay man. I mean, you're still alive, that's all that really matters. Just don't you dare think about touching that stuff again." Duff said.
Scott looked surprised. "So you're not kicking me out of the band?"
"Nope. But you're on your last chance. I cannot deal with another death due to drugs. I've seen to many people die that way." Duff said.
Scott smiled. "Thanks for saving my life." He said.
Duff smiled back at him. "No problem."
Scott had told his bandmates that he had stopped for good. He wanted to believe it too. But being a junkie was his life. He had nothing else but the needles and a few odd pills lying around. He was lying on the cold wooden floor of the hotel kitchen. His vision was blurry and contorted, but he could make out the tall appliances that surrounded him. He was sweating even though it was a freezing night, his head was as moist as a fish.
He clenched at his chest. A terrible pain was gradually building itself up. He moaned quietly, face scrunched up. He didn't know what was causing this.
He turned to his side and threw up. The horrible taste of copper was around his mouth. He opened his eyes and saw a pool of blood in front of him. His eyes widened, he knew what this meant.
"Oh shit..." He said quietly to himself. He knew that this meant he had taken too much. But he put the right amount of smack in the tube, didn't he? He swore that he did.
The searing pain returned to his chest. He screamed this time, trying to wake his bandmates that were in the neighbouring rooms. He knew they would be pissed off at him, they may even kick him out of the band. But he didn't want to die this way. He continued screaming at the top of his lungs. Words weren't forming properly, all he could get out was a muddled cluster of noises.
He pressed at his chest. The pain was almost unbearable. So much that he thought he might pass out. He hoped that he would, just so the pain would stop. But then he thought of dying, leaving his two kids without a father. That was worse than this pain. He couldn't stand to leave his kids like that. They meant everything to him, and he didn't want their last image of him to be himself passed out on a hotel floor, shirtless and sweating with a puddle of blood beside his face.
I'm not going to fail them. Not now, not ever. He thought.
He tried to persevere through the pain. It felt like someone had ripped a hole in his chest. And why the hell wasn't anyone helping him? Couldn't they hear his loud obsessive screams?
He lay there, now shivering violently. He could feel the euphoria of the heroin wearing off, not that it was really there in the first place. His head began to ache, made worse by his constant shivering. He wanted to call out to his bandmates, but he knew that they must be fast asleep. It was 2:30 am after all. But Slash wasn't usually asleep at this time. He was usually up doing something, either making up riffs on his guitar or even just throwing a random ball around. That guy must be nocturnal.
"Slash....." Scott tried to yell, but his words faded into nothing. He gradually made his hand grab the top of the stove. He slowly pulled himself up, feeling even more dizzy and disorientated than before. He nearly fell onto the fridge, barely able to steady himself. He dove for the door, smashing his hand onto the handle. He pushed it down. It seemed like it weighed a ton, he could hardly turn it to open the door.
The door opened, and Scott just collapsed in the hallway. His mouth was open just enough to let air pass through, as his nose was blocked. For some reason he always got a blocked nose when he shot up. Maybe it was his immune system or something.
He tried to speak again "Sla-" Was all he could get out. He hoped to god that he wouldn't die in the hallway. That would give the hotel workers a hell of a fright when they went to pick up the room service trays. Not to mention make a huge scene.
He heard a door open. Maybe Slash had heard him? He tried to look up at the figure gradually leaning down. Probably to put their left over food into the hall so someone could collect it. He called out again. "Slash..." The words yet again died in his throat. It just sounded like air coming out of his mouth.
The person looked at him. "Holy shit!" They screamed. But that wasn't Slash's voice, it was Duff's.
Duff ran over to Scott's mangled body. He pressed his fingers across his neck to check his pulse. There was still a heartbeat.
"Scott! Wake up!" Duff slapped him across the face. Scott's eyes looked up and nearly rolled back into his head. He was overdosing in the hallway of a hotel. Real classy, he thought to himself.
Duff hooked his arms around Scott's torso. He lifted him up, realising that his mouth was covered in blood. Duff looked even more worried. He glanced into the room, the door still open. He saw the blood on the floor.
"Fuck." He grabbed Scott's arm and threw it around his neck. He called out for some help.
"Slash! Dave! Matt! fucking get out here!" He yelled. No response. He dragged Scott to the nearest door, making sure that he didn't stop breathing.
He rampantly knocked on the door, desperate to get help. He was not going to let Scott die in his arms. Dave slowly opened the door, looking half asleep.
"Dude! C'mon we need to get him to a hospital!" Duff shouted.
"Wha? Who-" Dave saw Scott dangling from Duff's shoulder. "Holy Fuck!! How..." Dave started.
"I think he overdosed or something. But it doesn't matter, fuck! How are we gunna get him to a hospital?!" Duff was talking incredibly fast.
"Just get him down to the lobby, and I'll get the other guys." Dave was also talking quickly and breathing heavily. He had never seen anyone overdose in front of him before.
Duff rushed Scott to the elevator. As he waited for it to come, he held Scott's head close to him, and said "What the fuck were you thinking? You should have talked to me about this shit"
Dave ran over to the other guys rooms. He banged on the door, only to be glared at by an incredibly pissed off Slash. "What's the fucking emergency?" He asked, sarcastically.
"Scott's overdosed man! Duff's carrying him down to the lobby to get an ambulance!" As soon as he said that, Slash snapped into action. He grabbed a jacket out of the closet and ran over to the elevator. "Get Matt out here" He said to Dave as he moved towards the elevator.
Duff was cradling Scott's thin framed body. He tilted his head in a position so that he could breathe easily. When the elevator doors opened, he screamed at the first hotel person he saw.
"Can we get a fucking ambulance here! He's about to die man!" The hotel person ran to the front desk and called 911. Another person ran up to him and helped him carry Scott. He told him that luckily the hospital was only a couple of blocks down the road, so the ambulance shouldn't take more than 5 minutes to get here.
Duff sat down on the couch, still cradling Scott with his long, muscular arms. Scott had told him straight to his face that he had stopped this shit. Duff didn't care so much that he was lied to, just that he was looked straight in the eye and promised. But Scott broke that promise. Duff just wanted him to be okay.
The ambulance arrived, and Duff dragged Scott into the back. The paramedics rushed him onto a stretcher and put a breathing mask over his face.
"Do you want to come?" One of them asked Duff. He looked back at the other guys who were standing there, each with a look of shock on their faces. Slash stared at Duff, and quietly said "You should go man. He needs you there."
Duff nodded. He climbed into the back of the ambulance, sitting right beside Scott.
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Scott slowly opened his eyes. Everything was hazy, he couldn't remember what happened. He looked around the room, seeing Duff sitting in a chair in the corner.
"Duff...Where am I?" He asked.
"You're in the hospital. You overdosed last night." He talked in monotone, not using any expression in his words. Scott could tell that he felt lied to.
"Oh shit...." Scott trailed off. His voice was still weak. He knew he had let Duff down. Duff was the one who helped him get clean, he was the one who showed him what life was all about. He didn't want Duff to feel like he made no difference in his life.
"Im so fucking sorry man." Scott started. "I was just freaking out about everything. The divorce has been tough as shit, I can't stop thinking about what's gunna happen to my kids..." He said.
Duff just nodded slightly. "I know. But I thought you were stronger than this." He said.
Scott closed his eyes. He had failed himself and Duff. Why did he have to go back to the junk?
"But it's okay man. I mean, you're still alive, that's all that really matters. Just don't you dare think about touching that stuff again." Duff said.
Scott looked surprised. "So you're not kicking me out of the band?"
"Nope. But you're on your last chance. I cannot deal with another death due to drugs. I've seen to many people die that way." Duff said.
Scott smiled. "Thanks for saving my life." He said.
Duff smiled back at him. "No problem."
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