Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Saving Me
The door slammed and I got up slowly from the couch, making my way to my room. I sank down on the floor next to the CD shelf, semiconsciously beginning to clean off the Aerosmith record. Saul was right. How long could I keep living like this? Moving on to the Stones, I pictured him in my mind. I was worried about him. The drugs had only gotten worse over the past two years. It was amazing how well he was taking it. He was still incredibly handsome, but I knew that his body could only take so much. Suddenly, the door slammed. My stomach dropped, hearing pounding footsteps coming up the hall. Axl appeared in the doorway, and I kept my eyes on my work, moving the cloth methodically. He threw himself into the armchair, glaring at the wall. No explanation as to where he had been, of course. Suddenly, hot words flicked out of his mouth.
“What the hell are you doing?” I froze, cleaning cloth in midair above the Sex Pistols’ vinyl. Not now, please.
“I said, what the hell are you doing? That’s not how I clean those!” He got to his feet, and I to mine. Not taking my eyes off of him, I slowly backed out of the room, holding my breath, stiff with fear. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, however, that breath whooshed out of me as someone caught me up in their arms and clapped their hand over my mouth. Ordinarily, I would have struggled as much as possible, but only one man had this much hair, which I could tell even in the dark hallway. He walked quickly and quietly, with me still in his arms, out of the apartment and out the back fire escape. Only when he set me down in the passenger seat did he uncover my mouth.
“Slash, what-” I was cut off by him slamming the door. When he reappeared in the driver’s seat, I stared at him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his hair was sticking up even more than usual.
“Slash, what was that?”
He said nothing, just started the car and tore out of the complex. I watched as the speedometer arrow steadily went up: fifty, sixty, seventy. We were driving in a forty zone. I fell silent. I glanced at him once or twice; he never took his eyes off the road, and his jaw was locked in an almost frightening way. We lurched into his apartment parking lot in what seemed like no time at all. He got out and slammed the door so hard that the windows rattled. I sat rigid in the seat for a couple of minutes, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. It was all just too much for me to take. When I thought I could hold myself together, I slowly stepped out of the car, expecting him to have gone inside. But he was still where he had been two minutes earlier, leaning against the car door with his head down. I crunched over to him on the gravel, feeling timid; I had never seen him like this before. I tentatively reached out and touched his arm.
“Saul. . .”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slammed his fist onto the roof of the car. I jumped back, feeling the tears springing back into my eyes.
“He’s hitting you.”
I swallowed. He looked up, but it didn’t do much good. His hair was the only visible part of his face.
“Erin. Erin, he’s been hitting you for years. . .” He covered his face with his hands for a moment, then raked his hair back and took a step closer to me.
“Why didn’t you ever do anything?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at the car, the ground, anywhere but his face and those eyes.
I felt his hand under my chin, bringing my face up to his.
“Erin, what the hell. . .” he let his hand fall back to his side. I wanted to cry out as it left, wanted it to stay. Wanted reassurance, human comfort of any kind.
“I figured you must’ve known he didn’t stop, Slash.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” He was breathing heavily, suddenly angry. “This wasn’t fucking supposed to happen, Erin!” He turned away, almost yelling at me.
I couldn’t help it anymore. I felt something break inside me, and hot tears slipped down my face. I felt a sob ripped from somewhere deep inside me, felt like my heart was splitting open. I leaned against the car, closing my eyes. I was cold all over and broken inside.
He turned back quickly.
“Oh god, oh no, Erin, no. . .”
I heard the gravel crunch, and the next moment something warm and strong was wrapped around me, and I knew it was his arms. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think, I just melted into him. He was so warm, and I was so cold. I pulled my arms out and wrapped them around his neck, hanging on for dear life. He kept one arm around my waist, fumbled behind him, and opened the door of the car. He sat down behind the wheel, pulling me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me again. I didn’t let go once, just curled up on top of him and cried.
“No babygirl, don’t cry, don’t cry, please. . .” I was dimly aware of his whisper, the feeling of him stroking my hair. I nestled into the curve of his neck. His hair was so soft. I cried into him for what seemed like hours, afraid to let go, afraid to break his embrace, terrified of losing the feeling that I had in that moment. To me, it felt like his warmth was slowly filling me up, washing over me. With every moment that passed, I swore I could feel my coldness evaporating slowly into the November air.
“What the hell are you doing?” I froze, cleaning cloth in midair above the Sex Pistols’ vinyl. Not now, please.
“I said, what the hell are you doing? That’s not how I clean those!” He got to his feet, and I to mine. Not taking my eyes off of him, I slowly backed out of the room, holding my breath, stiff with fear. As soon as I stepped into the hallway, however, that breath whooshed out of me as someone caught me up in their arms and clapped their hand over my mouth. Ordinarily, I would have struggled as much as possible, but only one man had this much hair, which I could tell even in the dark hallway. He walked quickly and quietly, with me still in his arms, out of the apartment and out the back fire escape. Only when he set me down in the passenger seat did he uncover my mouth.
“Slash, what-” I was cut off by him slamming the door. When he reappeared in the driver’s seat, I stared at him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his hair was sticking up even more than usual.
“Slash, what was that?”
He said nothing, just started the car and tore out of the complex. I watched as the speedometer arrow steadily went up: fifty, sixty, seventy. We were driving in a forty zone. I fell silent. I glanced at him once or twice; he never took his eyes off the road, and his jaw was locked in an almost frightening way. We lurched into his apartment parking lot in what seemed like no time at all. He got out and slammed the door so hard that the windows rattled. I sat rigid in the seat for a couple of minutes, taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. It was all just too much for me to take. When I thought I could hold myself together, I slowly stepped out of the car, expecting him to have gone inside. But he was still where he had been two minutes earlier, leaning against the car door with his head down. I crunched over to him on the gravel, feeling timid; I had never seen him like this before. I tentatively reached out and touched his arm.
“Saul. . .”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and slammed his fist onto the roof of the car. I jumped back, feeling the tears springing back into my eyes.
“He’s hitting you.”
I swallowed. He looked up, but it didn’t do much good. His hair was the only visible part of his face.
“Erin. Erin, he’s been hitting you for years. . .” He covered his face with his hands for a moment, then raked his hair back and took a step closer to me.
“Why didn’t you ever do anything?”
“I don’t know.” I looked at the car, the ground, anywhere but his face and those eyes.
I felt his hand under my chin, bringing my face up to his.
“Erin, what the hell. . .” he let his hand fall back to his side. I wanted to cry out as it left, wanted it to stay. Wanted reassurance, human comfort of any kind.
“I figured you must’ve known he didn’t stop, Slash.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” He was breathing heavily, suddenly angry. “This wasn’t fucking supposed to happen, Erin!” He turned away, almost yelling at me.
I couldn’t help it anymore. I felt something break inside me, and hot tears slipped down my face. I felt a sob ripped from somewhere deep inside me, felt like my heart was splitting open. I leaned against the car, closing my eyes. I was cold all over and broken inside.
He turned back quickly.
“Oh god, oh no, Erin, no. . .”
I heard the gravel crunch, and the next moment something warm and strong was wrapped around me, and I knew it was his arms. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think, I just melted into him. He was so warm, and I was so cold. I pulled my arms out and wrapped them around his neck, hanging on for dear life. He kept one arm around my waist, fumbled behind him, and opened the door of the car. He sat down behind the wheel, pulling me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me again. I didn’t let go once, just curled up on top of him and cried.
“No babygirl, don’t cry, don’t cry, please. . .” I was dimly aware of his whisper, the feeling of him stroking my hair. I nestled into the curve of his neck. His hair was so soft. I cried into him for what seemed like hours, afraid to let go, afraid to break his embrace, terrified of losing the feeling that I had in that moment. To me, it felt like his warmth was slowly filling me up, washing over me. With every moment that passed, I swore I could feel my coldness evaporating slowly into the November air.
Sign up to rate and review this story