Categories > Celebrities > Guns n' Roses > Through The Eyes Of...


by MaryJaneSixx 0 reviews

Duff realizes that Slash has a drug problem.

Category: Guns n' Roses - Rating: R - Genres: Romance - Warnings: [V] [X] [R] - Published: 2017-06-23 - 2901 words


Nightmares plague my unconsciousness. I don't even like going to sleep anymore because I knew a bad dream would just come and wake me. In my dreams I'm always bound to something while someone savagely rapes me from behind calling me Blondie. I never see a face but I can feel every rip and every tear in my skin as it happens. I can vividly feel every emotion that toiled around in my broken brain. I wake up in a full on panic attack most nights. It's been a long time since I had these stupid panic attacks. I had thought that maybe I had finally out grown them. But no, stress had brought them out with a vengance. Sometimes booze circumvented the shit but it wasn't working as well as it used to, given the current circumstances.

Eventually I have to tell Slash about my anxiety issues. It's hard to fake being ok in the middle of a panic attack. It starts with this sensation of not being able to breathe. think you can't breathe. Then your brain takes over and pretty much convinces your body that it's telling you the truth. It's strange how powerful the mind can be at times. What starts out as a mental fucking hiccup ends up in real physical manifestations. All the sudden your chest feels like it's going to explode because you've spent the last half hour gulping the biggest breaths of your life and expanded your fucking lungs too far. You take shallow fast breaths and your heart doesn't know if you're exercising or about to tap out.

There's a dozen more things that go on with you but it's the thinking you can't fucking breathe that gets you. Have you ever seen a fish out of water before? It flops and gulps in deep hard breaths? Imagine how that fish must feel and you might get some vague concept of what I'm talking about here. It's like drowning when there is no water; drowning in air your fucking body can't seem to breathe. You just know your death is coming. Heart attack. However the worst thing that can actually happen is that you hyperventilate and pass the fuck out. Then your brain can't fuck with your body and shit returns to normal. When I come to I feel pretty goddamn stupid.

The first time Slash saw me having one he almost took me to a hospital. It took a while to explain. He doesn't really get it. But then no one does until they go through it. But he's supportive. He rubs my back and breathes deeply with me like some about to be father with his woman in labor. He tries to hold me but I can't deal with the confinement in a state like that. I need space. More space than is usually allowed.

As they subside I find myself curled up in a ball nuzzling into to Slash. He works an arm under my head and sleep eventually returns. Sometimes this shit happens more than once a night. But the more they happen the calmer Slash seems to be about it. I know the reason for this is heroin. I started noticing he was hanging out with Izzy more. He always had this tired expression on his face. And he was sleeping a lot more. Then I started to notice track marks popping up.

I guess at first I turned a blind eye to shit. I had so much of my own personal shit going on that I just didn't have the time to address the issue. The week at Nikki's place in San Diego gave me the much needed down time to finally bring it up. Slash and I agreed to work on it, him with the smack and me with the booze, but LA made us eat those fucking words.

I had to drink. It was the only fucking way to try to control the panic attacks. They consumed so much of my time that I couldn't see just how bad my Curly Sue was getting on the shit. Luckily not everyone is like Izzy. If Slash were I may not even know about his using. But how can I say, "Baby you need to lay off", as I gulp down an entire bottle of Vodka by myself? From being around Axl and Izzy I already know nagging is going to do no good. I know threats and shit isn't what he needs. But I can't watch someone else I love die in my fucking arms behind that shit. Especially not my sweet Curly Sue; I fucking need him to live. If he's not here I don't want to live either. I really needed to pull my own head out of my ass and step up to the plate for him. He needed me just as much as I did him.

First I tried to talk to Izzy. I guess I lay a pretty good goddamn guilt trip on him because he quit supplying Slash. He would lie and say he had to score or that the shit was bunk. But Izzy wasn't the only person around with drug connections that Slash knew. Slash knew Nikki fucking Sixx. You couldn't guilt trip Nikki into a goddamn thing. Nikki would always tell me to stop babying him. He would tell me that in his company Slash would be perfectly safe. That he would keep a close eye on him. So little by little Slash started spending more and more time with Nikki. Lucky for me the Crue toured almost constantly so Nikki could never be around long enough to really get Slash strung out. Or so I thought.

With Izzy no longer feeding Slash and Stevie's habits, and with Nikki only occasionally blowing through town, the two of them took it upon themselves to find their own dealer. And in no time at all it seemed like I was always alone. Slash was always coming up with simple excuses to leave like, we need toilet paper, gotta go buy strings, gonna go over to Izzy's and show him this riff, and then I wouldn't see him for hours. He always returned with an Izzy like detachment. Then he would just go to sleep, no matter what time it was. If I said anything it just made him leave again so I quickly learned to just play stupid. But something needed to be done, and fast.

I awoke to another panic attack set off by a dream. It was dark. The clock reads 12:52 am. Slash's side of the bed is empty. I gasp for air and try to figure out where he is. Had he told me and I was drunk and forgot? Or did he sneak out to use while I was asleep? I'm guessing the latter of the two.

So panic attack be damned, I got dressed and went to try and find him. My first stop is naturally Axl and Izzy's girlfriends place. I bang on the door but no one answers. I see a light on and hear the TV so I know one of them is at least in there. I bang louder. Eventually the door almost flies off the hinges to a very irate Izzy standing there sweating and holding a towel over his junk.

"FUCKING WHAT?! We finally get five fucking minutes away from our girls and you come banging like the fucking cops?!"

I just back away silently. Obviously I interrupted a rare moment of intimacy between those two. Its hard to get your freaky on when there's five of you living in a fucking storage unit. It was pretty obvious they hadn't seen Slash. I can only surmise he and Stevie were together since Steven was MIA too.

So I find myself walking up Sunset. During an attack the walking actually seems to help. Eventually the attack ends and I find myself prowling clubs and strip joints trying to find Slash.I'm on a dead trail because not one fucking person claims to have seen him. I end up in the Cathouse. Angela is there and tells me that she had seen Slash leaving with one of the other dancers about an hour ago. Ok, so he's out getting some pussy, I tell myself. No big deal. I'm heading back home when I see a dark lump that appears to be a person lying in the gutter out behind the Cathouse. Fuck me, it's Slash.

I rush over to him and find him without any shoes on. I check his breathing and it seems to be fine. Thankfully he's just passed out. I pull him up and call his name. His eyes part. He looks at me briefly before saying, "Its just a dream babe, go back to sleep."

I shake him violently, "Its not a dream fucker! Wake up! You're in a fucking gutter!"

His eyes slightly crack open again as he shakes his head, "No Im not."

"And I guess your pants are wet because someone else pissed in them?!" I snap as I attempt to get him up on his feet.

"What you doing here?" He mumbles to me. I think he may finally be coming around.

"What the fuck are YOU doing here is a better goddamn question! Where's your shoes? And wallet? Did someone fucking rob you?"

"Mmmmm maybe...dunno," he swaggers on his feet with me holding him.

"We have to get you home," I frown and throw his arm around my shoulder. "Where the fuck is Stevie?"


"This is it Slash. This shit stops tonight. This problem needs to be nipped in the ass before something bad happens to you. I can't fucking lose you. Not like this. Not to fucking heroin."

"Mmmm sorry," is all he utters as I drag him along.

I get him back to the rehearsal space and out of his piss covered clothes. Putting dry shit on him is the best I can fucking do without running water or a fucking shower. He immediately goes to sleep as I just sit there and try to figure out how this shit happened. First Steven overdoses, now Slash is passing out in gutters and getting robbed. What the fuck was happening to us?

By morning Slash is sober and wakes up shaking. I offer him a drink but he is quickly coming up with reasons why he needs to leave. I know the shaking isn't from the booze like it is with me. The heroin had him.

"No Slash, you're not leaving so you can go get high," I shake my head and grab his arm.

He jerks away from me and rolls his eyes, "Fuck you," He starts for the door but I block it. "Fucking move Duff," he says looking at me with hollow eyes, just like Izzy.

"Why? You sleep more soundly in gutters?" I ask.

He thinks a moment and then I guess what he remembers of last night comes back to him. "No, I just gotta get straight...its the only way the shaking stops."

"That's because you've gone and gotten hooked...and probably faster than I have ever fucking seen. I can't let you give in to that shit and be just like Izzy."

"I'm not like Izzy," he huffs.

"Yeah, no shit," I nod, "You think we're ever going to find Izzy robbed and passed out in a fucking gutter? No. Know why? Izzy has been doing this shit for years and can handle it. just don't have what it takes to function the way Izzy does. This shit is not for you baby, please hear me."

"Just one last time," he says trying to move me away from the door.

"No," I stand my ground.

"Fucking move Duff," I hear the fiend in his voice but I refuse to budge.

Then out of nowhere a hand goes across my face and I'm being shoved away from the door. Luckily Slash and I are like David and Goliath. I grab him and pull him back in the door. He flays and kicks and swings and curses. But I refuse to let him go. I start dragging his little ass toward our makeshift loft. Along the way I grab the cord off Izzy's new guitar and knock it over in the process. I grab one of Slash's wrists and wrap the cord around it several times. He struggles, but it's no use, I'm bigger and stronger. Then I find his other wrist and wrap it up with the other. I tie whats left of the cord to a 2x4 and take a step back from him helpless and ranting. I grab my head. I don't know what the fuck to do.

The minutes turn into hours and Slash never once shuts up. I just sit in front of him and cry as he says the cruelest most hurtful things he can in hopes that I will untie him. But I can't. I know what the fuck will happen if I do. Fortunately for me Izzy and Axl pop in around one in the afternoon.

Izzy cocks an eyebrow at Slash then sees me sitting Indian style on the floor just blankly staring at Slash in confusion. "Ya know, it works a lot easier if you get him naked first."

Then Slash starts to plead with Izzy for a hit. I suppose it becomes apparent pretty quickly to him that this is an intervention and not a sex act. Izzy kneels next to Slash. "How long has it been kid?"

"Bout dark yesterday, please help me Izz," he says with tears on his cheeks.

"I found him passed out in a fucking gutter last night. He's all strung out. He started getting the shit on his own somehow. And I'm not fucking untying him until he quits trying to leave so he can go score," I inform them.

Izzy and Axl just stare at one another. Axl fishes into his pocket and produces a hand full of Valium. Izzy nods as they have one of their telepathic conversations. "It'll be easier if you just sleep through this part kid," Izzy sighs. He takes the pills from Axl and places one on Slashs lips. "Just eat them like candy, they're even a little sweet," and he shoves the pill past his lips. Slash chews it and Izzy gives him another and another and another. Six total. Within 20 minutes Slash is starting to seem pretty comfortable and sleepy. We untie him and get him more comfortable and he quickly drifts off.

I look at Axl who looks at me sympathetically like he knows exactly what Im going through. Izzy's shameful eyes refuse to meet mine as he mumbles that this is all his fault. After Axl and I try to ease his blame he collects his thoughts.

"There's a pair of handcuffs under the mattress," he shrugs with a guilty smirk and Axl blushes. "I have a feeling you'll need them again when he wakes up. And I should probably not be here. It's just gonna make him want the shit that much more because he knows I have it. I'm gonna go rent you a hotel room down at the Motor Lodge at the end of the block. He's gonna get sick; probably when we wakes up, you're lucky he hasn't shit his pants or puked yet. We're gonna need a toilet and a shower. How ironic is it that I made the money for that shit selling smack?"

"Thanks Izzy, that's really nice of you. I can't believe I let things get so far gone that we stopped paying rent and ended up in this shit hole."

"Hey it happens. Maybe in two more days we'll have an advance check for a new apartment yeah?" he says and blows out a cloud of smoke.

"Well they had better just like us for our music because I can't hand him over to anyone else; look what it's fucking doing to him!"

"Yeah well, did it's number on you too; you drink like a fish and wake up fucking screaming all the time. I'll do it next time ok? Maybe they won't want anything this time; maybe it's our lucky fucking break," Izzy sighs and grinds his cigarette out under his boot.

"Where the fuck is Steven?" Axl asks. "He's barely out of the fucking hospital."

"I have no fucking clue," I shrug.

"We'll bring you the key and then go find him," Axl nods. "Dont fucking let Slash leave for any fucking reason."

"Not even to piss," Izzy adds.

"We have to get them together before the meeting with Geffen," Axl runs a hand through his hair. "We have to find Steven."

So they left and came back a few minutes later with a big metal key dangling from a bigger plastic keychain tag that had the number 14 on it. Axl drives my truck around the block while I grab Slash's duffel bag and stuff some clothes in it and hand it to Izzy. Then I pick up my passed out little Curly Sue and put him in the truck and we drive him down the street. I hold him close to me in the cab of the truck and steel myself for what I know lies ahead.
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