FicWad

Fucking Izzy... Fucking Izzy... Fucking Izzy... Fucking Izzy... Fucking Izzy... Fucking Izzy...

I lie here on the bed, my chest pressed into the mattress as I struggle to breath. I can hear the chain from my neck rattling slightly with each breath. It's painful to breathe and I can feel my wounds seeping into the bandages. I don't know how much blood I lost but I'm tired. So tired that I could sleep forever. Just sleep and escape from here. They, the terrible twosome upstairs, have taken me and wrung me out for everything I have.

Do I deserve it?

They probably think I do.

But my hand wasn't on the gun when it went off. I didn't kill Slash's mom. The gun fired when it hit the floor.

And I was only giving Izzy what he wanted. Wasn't I? I'm sure he wanted to be beaten up, drugged and abused. Wanted it because he was feeling like a traitor for being with Slash. Feeling like he was only using him until I came back.

Well, wasn't that what he was thinking? I'm sure it was. I'm sure he wanted me back. But now he's gone crawling back into the curly-haired bastard's lap. Yeah, it turns me on to watch them fucking like animals on heat but I want to be there. I should be the one between Izzy's legs, not him. It should be my name he's screaming, not fuckin' Slash's.

But I'll never win him back now. Slash is what he wants. Slash looks after him. Slash cares for him and loves him in ways that I never could. I took Izzy and I ripped him to pieces. Called him names and fucked him 'til he couldn't walk. Tied him up and beat him. Raped and humiliated. Maybe if I'd fucked him in the street, in front of a crowd on Sunset, then maybe he'd have stayed, knowing that he was claimed by me.

But no. He wanted a "boyfriend" and a "relationship". He wanted someone to hold his hand and kiss him goodnight. He didn't want someone who'd do the most heinous things known to man to him. And that's why he left.

Why couldn't I have been like Slash? Why couldn't I have been the nice one who cared for him and brushed the hair from his eyes.

Because you're pathetic, Bailey. Your stepfather took you and ripped you to shreds. And in turn you did it to the one person who cared for you.

Yeah, but he didn't care, did he? At least not in the beginning. All he wanted was to get laid. All he wanted was to feel me trembling beneath him as I experienced my first ever orgasm. He was planning on tossing me aside like every other guy he'd ever fucked.

But for some reason, he stayed. He stayed and wrapped himself around me. I had the chance to be everything he wanted. And I lost it. I lost it because of my own pig-headedness. Lost it because I was stubborn and wanted to rule everything he did. Lost it because I tried to tell him who to be, who to be friends with and how to fuck. Lost it because I didn't think.

And now I lie here, wallowing in my own blood and tears.

~~~~

I sit on the bed and look down at Slash. He's finally sleeping, the first time in what seems like days. All he's done is shake and tremble and vomit. He doesn't seem to be getting any better, seems to want to remain ill. There's only one solution and I'm refusing to pay for the drugs that'll make him somewhere close to normal.

Standing, I pull my leopard print coat and take one last look at him. I need to get the medications, need to get the methadone. I don't have the money to pay for it. Neither does Slash. And I'm not searching Axl for money.

So there's only one way to do it.

Pulling my hat over my ears, I bend and give Slash a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry," I whisper as I head for the door. "But there's only one way to pay for this."

With a heavy heart, I walk out of the bedroom and down towards the street. Somewhere out there, there's always someone willing to pay.