Axl Rose slid across the cracked seats of the bus and stared at the relatively flat, unknown land of Indiana. It had been years since he dared to come back to this place, but duty had called. His mother was dead, and his step-father, of all people, had asked him to come. L. Stephen Bailey and his step-son, W. Axl Rose, had not seen each other in nearly thirty years, and now the former wanted the latter back.
Wonderful, Axl thought, shaking back his long, thick, strawberry mane. He hated this place, and here he was, being dragged back. He had fought so hard as a teenager to get away from this place and his mother's sadistic husband.
He walked along the streets of Lafayette, flinching visibly every time he saw a place he'd been forced to go as a child. Church, the store, everything brought horrible memories of what his step-father had done to him. He remembered crying every time his mom had to leave because it meant another night of pain and torture. When he was younger, he didn't understand what was going on. Hell, his step-father had tried to convince him that it was okay to be touched the way he was being touched, that it was okay if it hurt a little at first, but that it would get better with time. Axl knew the fucker was lying, but he couldn't do anything about it. Every night, he was subjected to more and more twisted shit until he would shudder at every touch of another person's bare flesh against his own. It was his step-father that had pushed him into homophobia, and only weeks ago had Axl been able to willingly admit that he was gay and damn proud of it.
Then his breath hitched when he saw it, the house where he had grown up under the constant threat of rape and beatings. Sure, his step-father would pick him up and whisper how beautiful he was when his mother was away, but when she was there, he was the worst child a father could have been cursed with.
Nothing about Indiana could be attractive to the normal person. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no one Axl knew would be caugh dead in the area. He really couldn't blame them. He'd lived here, for God's sakes, and he'd been running his entire life. Well, one thing had been attractive. An older friend of Axl's, six years older exactly, who had turned Axl onto the music he'd listened to. Supposedly he'd moved to Lafayette from Bloomington to stay with his aunt because he'd gotten into a fight with his parents over his long hair. His name had been David Roth, and Axl had been drawn to his charisma from the get-go.
David Lee Roth, now, the frontman of Van Halen and solo artist. Extraordinary. And he never even spoke to Axl anymore.
Axl found himself biting his lower lip as he approached his old house, fighting back the rage in his heart and the part of his mind that had tried to convince him what his step-father did to him was good. He knocked on the door and waited.
L. Stephen Bailey answered after a couple of minutes, and Axl felt his hands ball into fists at the sight of the man that had raped him when he was a child.
"Bill. It's been a long time," L. Stephen said, folding his arms across his chest.
"It's Axl. You and the rest of this hick town should know that by now," Axl sneered, keeping a good distance between him and his step-father. He wasn't stupid, and he wasn't going to risk anything.
"You know," L. Stephen said, letting his arms fall to his side, "I did a lot of bad things to you when you were younger. And I'm sorry. I was wrong to hurt you, and I want you to know that."
"Oh what the fuck ever," Axl snarled, turning on heel. "The only reason I came here was to see how close you were to dropping dead. I hated you then and I hate you now. I'm staying at a hotel until Mom's funeral, and then I'm out of here. For all I care, you can die in this stupid fucking house."
"Your Mom left you a lot," L. Stephen called, making Axl stop in his tracks and turn around. "She left you a lof of money and a lot of her things. Despite the fact you were out there in the sinner's land, singing the music of Satan, she was proud of you."
Axl sighed and turned. "Just tell me when the damn will-reading is. Then after that, I'm outta this place. For good."