Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > 15-12-5.
His eyes broke from the ceiling, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he was right. Cautiously pulling himself up on his elbows he watched in amazement as the curtin began to move, as the blood red colored material flowed freely in the air. Amusement filled his eyes as he continued to watch, the moonlight now blaring in covering him in a snow white glow.
The moonlight glistened within his eyes like a flame in the wind, it seemed the moon that stuck out so greatly in the misty sky had drawn him in. Still a muscle never moved an eyelid never twitched, all that moved was his heartbeat that continued to pound harder with every small breath he took.
Like a deer caught in a trucks headlights he didn't look away, tho he knew it would hurt him.
A faint creak of the wooden floors drawed his attention away from the moonlight and within a second the white glow of the moonlight disappeared behind the sheets of the blood red curtins once again. He gasped as the darkness covered the kitchen room and himself, but still that thin line of moonlight that made a small circle on the kitchen tiles still shone through. He wasn't sure what to think or if he could understand what had just happened, but with a nearly empty bottle of vodka still hanging from his fingers he thought nothing more of it but a drunken mistake and left it at that. Weakly pulling his alcohol induced body from the kitchen floor his hand tightly gripped the kitchen bench, a grunt and groan escaped his lips when he struggled to walk himself over to the once moon lit window. With the bottle still within his grasp he pulled his free hand up and slowly went to place it onto the glass window.
It was closed.
Removing his hand a hint of fear ran through his veins, a window that was never open and with the curtins that had blown so freely in the air less than a minute ago, how was it possible?
But in a world full of unthinkable questions, how can we even begin to understand the answers.
Again a creak emerged from behind him. Turning away from the window and starring behind him, he didn't need to adjust his eyes or squint blankly into the rooms darkness, he saw what had made the noise, and saw it very very clearly.
The clear bottle slipped from his fingers grasp making a loud noise as it shattered along the kitchen tiles, sending broken glass and liquor to fall around his feet. Yet the impact didn't cause him to look away from what he had been so ashamed to come to face with again, he simply continued starring ahead unbelieving of what he was seeing. A scared look masked his face, and guilt glazed his eyes, he felt sorry and sick as his stomach twisted into knots and fear took over. He wouldn't allow himself to believe what was happening, he couldn't. He knew it wasn't real, he wasn't stupid but the guilt of feeling like he had felt something wrong had covered his heart for so long that what he tried to avoid had somehow became a figure of his imagination knowing that, that was what he really wanted.
And wither he knew it or not, it was what he needed.
Reaching a hand forward he tried to step closer, his eyes never leaving the black figure in front of him but when his foot pressed against the broken glass and liquor on the kitchen floor he couldn't help but wince as pain shot through his foot. Breaking concentration he looked down at his wounded foot, gripping his ankle to avoid the same mistake again. Blood dripped from undearneath staining the tiles below, he cursed himself quietly before realizing what had made him bleed in the first place and his eyes soon shot up and gazed hard into the black covered room, but nothing stood there besides the old kitchen table.
Am i crazy?, No of course not, I'm just Fine.
The moonlight glistened within his eyes like a flame in the wind, it seemed the moon that stuck out so greatly in the misty sky had drawn him in. Still a muscle never moved an eyelid never twitched, all that moved was his heartbeat that continued to pound harder with every small breath he took.
Like a deer caught in a trucks headlights he didn't look away, tho he knew it would hurt him.
A faint creak of the wooden floors drawed his attention away from the moonlight and within a second the white glow of the moonlight disappeared behind the sheets of the blood red curtins once again. He gasped as the darkness covered the kitchen room and himself, but still that thin line of moonlight that made a small circle on the kitchen tiles still shone through. He wasn't sure what to think or if he could understand what had just happened, but with a nearly empty bottle of vodka still hanging from his fingers he thought nothing more of it but a drunken mistake and left it at that. Weakly pulling his alcohol induced body from the kitchen floor his hand tightly gripped the kitchen bench, a grunt and groan escaped his lips when he struggled to walk himself over to the once moon lit window. With the bottle still within his grasp he pulled his free hand up and slowly went to place it onto the glass window.
It was closed.
Removing his hand a hint of fear ran through his veins, a window that was never open and with the curtins that had blown so freely in the air less than a minute ago, how was it possible?
But in a world full of unthinkable questions, how can we even begin to understand the answers.
Again a creak emerged from behind him. Turning away from the window and starring behind him, he didn't need to adjust his eyes or squint blankly into the rooms darkness, he saw what had made the noise, and saw it very very clearly.
The clear bottle slipped from his fingers grasp making a loud noise as it shattered along the kitchen tiles, sending broken glass and liquor to fall around his feet. Yet the impact didn't cause him to look away from what he had been so ashamed to come to face with again, he simply continued starring ahead unbelieving of what he was seeing. A scared look masked his face, and guilt glazed his eyes, he felt sorry and sick as his stomach twisted into knots and fear took over. He wouldn't allow himself to believe what was happening, he couldn't. He knew it wasn't real, he wasn't stupid but the guilt of feeling like he had felt something wrong had covered his heart for so long that what he tried to avoid had somehow became a figure of his imagination knowing that, that was what he really wanted.
And wither he knew it or not, it was what he needed.
Reaching a hand forward he tried to step closer, his eyes never leaving the black figure in front of him but when his foot pressed against the broken glass and liquor on the kitchen floor he couldn't help but wince as pain shot through his foot. Breaking concentration he looked down at his wounded foot, gripping his ankle to avoid the same mistake again. Blood dripped from undearneath staining the tiles below, he cursed himself quietly before realizing what had made him bleed in the first place and his eyes soon shot up and gazed hard into the black covered room, but nothing stood there besides the old kitchen table.
Am i crazy?, No of course not, I'm just Fine.
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