Categories > Celebrities > Motley Crue > Broken


by sgSixx 0 reviews

A look into Nikki's mind and an interesting situation he encounters. can he get through it?

Category: Motley Crue - Rating: R - Genres: Drama - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2014-06-24 - 1009 words

My Head

Nikki's POV

If I try hard enough I can remember dreaming about being what it was I saw each time I looked in a mirror. Adorned in Cover Girl, Revlon, and Aquanet. I am the forbidden fruit your kids can't resist. I'm that little glimpse into a world people are afraid to go into. No one believed I could do it, but I did. I made it. I was the Ring Master to the crazy upside down evil circus of my imagination.

It should have been the time of my life...right? This was the part where I look at myself and say, You did it're a fucking Rock Star. I should have been really happy.

But as I stand here looking at the dried stage blood around my lips I realize all I've done is trap myself in a slow game of suicide.

There is no limits to be reached it seems. My life has become a nonstop party. A smorgesborgh of drugs follow our every move, all ripe and begging for the taking. They're there when everyone else has gone home. They're there when people turn their backs. They're there when my fingers are bleeding from playing. They're there when I come down off that stage high. They've become my reason for waking. My reason for doing a show. My reason to fall asleep at night.

I look around and find myself alone. Alone is something I've always been. Even my own parents left me alone. My dad left when I was three and then my mom at six. I don't think I did anything wrong, but in truth I know it's me that's wrong. I am sick, twisted, demented beyond normal dimensions. I am an abomination, a force of nature, the antichrist.

I had a way of corrupting the people who got close to me. I knew just how to crawl into your head and tighten and turn things until you bent to my will. I could turn a nun into a whore. My charm and my smile are only weapons to defeat you on the battle field. My words which sound provocative are laced with the velvety undertones of harmlessness.

I'm anything but harmless. I'm a deadly poison that spreads through you and infects you. I slowly suck the life out of you like a spider until you're just a shell, my puppet. I have no remorse for my actions. Your pain is my pleasure. I feed off your aching.

Tommy laughs when people ask him if I'm the devil. "No," he would always say with a grin, "but he's definately related to the guy." Tommy didn't know how wrong he was. I think, while I may not be the devil in the flesh, that I at least had the devil inside of me.

I didn't have the heart of a human being anymore. It had become one big callous without feeling. The only thing I allowed myself to feel was adrenaline rushes and drugs. But people and their feelings...foreign fucking concept. Happiness? Hard to feel something you haven't got a clue about.

Over my shoulder Tommy bounds into the room, hyperactive as always. The only time he ever shut up was when I talked him into doing smack with me. Obviously he hasn't had any tonight.

"Hey Sixxer, let's go out man."

I draw my breath in slowly, "Nah...I'm just gonna hang around here you know."

"You sure? Vince got us these tickets for a mud wresting contest with chicks dude! It's gonna be fucking rad!" His words are a mine a minute. It hurts my head to even listen to him.

I just shake my head no and force a smile to come to my face. "I've got stuff"

"You sure man?" He insists again.

"Yeah," I nod and begin wiping the fake blood from my mouth.

"But we were gonna bring a few of them back here...see if we couldn't make em fight for the right to fuck us."

My eyes glance at him. This is one of the many monsters of my depraved making. I had taught these sick games to Tommy and Vince. Women held no meaning to me other than the ten seconds of pleasure they could bring me. But they made wonderful pawns to entertain my wild sick fantasies and play cruel degrading games with.

It didn't matter how shitty we were to them, they kept lining up for us. Mothers, daughters, mothers and daughters, all begging for our diseased dicks. And we usually aptly presented them to them. I know I've done so many things that were considered wrong to them. But I just can't find it in me to feel bad for it. Maybe I haven't a heart at all.

"Not tonight," I sigh. I already have a date for tonight. She's a golden eyed dream, warm and inviting. She whispers my name all day long. She's there when nothing is there. I cant't wait to kiss her good night each day. She's my personal nightmare. My addiction. Heroin.

The only feeling I can muster these days seems to be my desire for smack. It is my driving force, my one true love I guess you could say. Heroin never let me down. It never abandoned me in my times of need. It never lied. It had become the only constant thing I could cling to or depend on. Yet, I knew, somewhere in my drug riddled brain, that it would be the death of me. My bittersweet suicide.

"Promise you'll be careful?" Tommy asks me with worry in his tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask playing the fool, but I'm well aware of his meaning. He's worried about the dope I do. Everyone does.

"Come on, you know I've got nine lives," I smirk.

Tommy smiles unsure with a nod. "Ok...well I'm gonna go then."

"Yeah, see ya," I smile and watch as he leaves. I'm alone again. Left to all my vices.
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