Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Dance of Pales
No one moved. No one breathed.
Axl felt warmth trickle down his legs as his bladder let go. It had been so fast, he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dead, too. The man had swung the gun around, placed it in his own mouth, and put a .44 hollow point through his brain. He stood for a moment, swaying, before a cascade of blood and matter began to trickle from his mouth, onto Axl. Then with a soft, wet groan, he collapsed into a heap.
By now Steven was standing up on his drum kit, threatening to tip it over, half of his weight balanced on Slash’s shoulder. The young lead had backed up against his friend’s drum kit when he first saw the gun. Both of them were now frozen completely, staring at the corpse draining pink and grey onto the stage.
Izzy and Duff had been at the man’s back, had seen the top of his head come off like an egg in a microwave. When the man had crumpled, he’d done so backwards, his open skull staring up at them. Izzy could see Duff’s sanity slipping as fast as Axl’s was… he could see it in the blonde's eyes as easily as he could in his best friend’s. Reaching up onto the speaker, he felt for the plushy, hooking his fingers tight into it and shoving it into Duff’s hands before the bassist could start screaming. He started to tell Duff that it would be okay, that they were all okay. First he had to stop crying, though. His face was wet with warm tears he hadn’t felt flowing. His hand brushed over his face and he felt his eyes burn, a red sheen over his vision. He felt a chunk of his skin peel away under his fingers, and his heart lurched.
Bringing nervous fingers down from his face, he stared at the bits of flesh, brain and even hair that stuck to them. Bits of the man’s skull that had rained down on him when the trigger had been pulled. So it wasn’t tears. Not at all. Looking down, he saw the stains on his shirt, the spatters and flecks on the white paint of his guitar.
Warren had never heard anyone scream like that before, and he swore he never wanted to hear its like again.
The suicide note found on the man’s body was simple. He couldn’t live without the love of the fifteen year old boy he’d become obsessed with. It didn’t make sense, but madness didn’t always…
The entire band had to be sedated to one level or another. Therapists were contacted, and the boys sequestered in their mansion. Duff hadn’t spoken a single word in the time since the incident. He behaved normally, but wouldn’t talk, constantly clutching the stuffed dog, ignoring the dots of dried blood sticking to its pelt. Slash began acting out abnormally, almost violently, and Steven set record number of fires. Three lawn chairs were reduced to puddles of smoking plastic. Izzy would seem okay for a few minutes, and then start screaming any time he saw anything that set off the memory. Warren had ordered pizza for them one night, and one look at the swirled red and white of the cheese sent Izzy into hysterics. That’s when the Haldol started. Axl just stopped sleeping period. He didn’t want to eat, sleep, anything. Everything reminded him of the man. He could see it every time he closed his eyes. The river of blood from the grinning lips. The smell of blood and gunpowder never left him, no matter how hard he tried to will it away. The Librium at least chased away the dreams.
Axl felt warmth trickle down his legs as his bladder let go. It had been so fast, he still wasn’t sure he wasn’t dead, too. The man had swung the gun around, placed it in his own mouth, and put a .44 hollow point through his brain. He stood for a moment, swaying, before a cascade of blood and matter began to trickle from his mouth, onto Axl. Then with a soft, wet groan, he collapsed into a heap.
By now Steven was standing up on his drum kit, threatening to tip it over, half of his weight balanced on Slash’s shoulder. The young lead had backed up against his friend’s drum kit when he first saw the gun. Both of them were now frozen completely, staring at the corpse draining pink and grey onto the stage.
Izzy and Duff had been at the man’s back, had seen the top of his head come off like an egg in a microwave. When the man had crumpled, he’d done so backwards, his open skull staring up at them. Izzy could see Duff’s sanity slipping as fast as Axl’s was… he could see it in the blonde's eyes as easily as he could in his best friend’s. Reaching up onto the speaker, he felt for the plushy, hooking his fingers tight into it and shoving it into Duff’s hands before the bassist could start screaming. He started to tell Duff that it would be okay, that they were all okay. First he had to stop crying, though. His face was wet with warm tears he hadn’t felt flowing. His hand brushed over his face and he felt his eyes burn, a red sheen over his vision. He felt a chunk of his skin peel away under his fingers, and his heart lurched.
Bringing nervous fingers down from his face, he stared at the bits of flesh, brain and even hair that stuck to them. Bits of the man’s skull that had rained down on him when the trigger had been pulled. So it wasn’t tears. Not at all. Looking down, he saw the stains on his shirt, the spatters and flecks on the white paint of his guitar.
Warren had never heard anyone scream like that before, and he swore he never wanted to hear its like again.
The suicide note found on the man’s body was simple. He couldn’t live without the love of the fifteen year old boy he’d become obsessed with. It didn’t make sense, but madness didn’t always…
The entire band had to be sedated to one level or another. Therapists were contacted, and the boys sequestered in their mansion. Duff hadn’t spoken a single word in the time since the incident. He behaved normally, but wouldn’t talk, constantly clutching the stuffed dog, ignoring the dots of dried blood sticking to its pelt. Slash began acting out abnormally, almost violently, and Steven set record number of fires. Three lawn chairs were reduced to puddles of smoking plastic. Izzy would seem okay for a few minutes, and then start screaming any time he saw anything that set off the memory. Warren had ordered pizza for them one night, and one look at the swirled red and white of the cheese sent Izzy into hysterics. That’s when the Haldol started. Axl just stopped sleeping period. He didn’t want to eat, sleep, anything. Everything reminded him of the man. He could see it every time he closed his eyes. The river of blood from the grinning lips. The smell of blood and gunpowder never left him, no matter how hard he tried to will it away. The Librium at least chased away the dreams.
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