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

He's Not Mine

by MaryJaneSixx 0 reviews

Axl tells us more of his and Izzys past

Category: Guns n' Roses - Rating: R - Genres: Romance - Warnings: [V] [X] [R] - Published: 2017-06-29 - 2190 words


I just shut my door. I couldn’t comfort Duff. Look what our comforting had done. I didn’t want Izzy to see that, regardless if he’s cheated on me, despite the fact that we aren’t even together, I didn’t want to hurt him like that and I know I have. The pain was just hidden behind a mask of heroin. But I know it hurt. You don’t spend 12 years with someone and suddenly feel nothing at such a sight. But he’ll be fine, he’s got the kid to ‘comfort’ him. He was probably pretty comfortable as we speak. And for me, there will be no comfort for me tonight.

I meld into the door as if it had loving arms to embrace me. My palms flat on it I start to sob and slowly sink down it. Dear God Izzy, don’t you know what you’re doing? You’re killing me. I don’t know that I can cope with seeing him with Slash day in and day out. I didn’t want to see them conveying any form of happiness together. I want them miserable and desperate for Duff and myself. Fuck, I should have never left him. I should have known what would happen. I just hadn’t anticipated things between Slash and Duff to take a 48 hour nose dive. Maybe Slash and Izzy planned it all along so they could be together…who fucking knows?

I sob, whine, and wail, everything Duff was doing out there in the hallway. I didn’t want Slash with Izzy. I didn’t want to see Izzy with anyone but me. I guess it should have occurred to me that his codependent ass would move right along to the next person he could cling to. Inadvertently, if Duff hadn’t fucked up so bad none of this would have happened. But I can’t blame Duff for our failed relationship. The fault lie in heroin and heroin alone. Izzy would have never done the things he’s done if he were sober. The real Izzy wasn’t that kind of guy.

And god how I missed my Izzy. Fuck, I even miss this fucked up one. At least I still got to see flashes of my Izzy in this one. Now I get to see nothing, like he’s dead and gone and I’m left a fucking widow. He’s not mine anymore. I’ve lost him for good this time and I don’t quite know how to deal with it. I don’t know how to let him go so I can expel this ache deep within my heart. I don’t know how to forget him. I don’t think I ever will know how. How the fuck someone you’ve loved over half your life? So I smash every breakable fucking thing in the room. After my tornado of destruction has ended I’m standing in the middle of a destroyed room and I still feel no better. Not one fucking bit. Only one thought brought me comfort, castrating Slash. But where the fuck does one get chloroform at this hour?

I drop to my knees on broken glass and just cry. What the fuck else is left to do now? What do I do without him? He’s always been there, except for the two year head start he had coming out to California. And they were the loneliest two years of my life. I spent most of it in and out of jail. Just fucking lost. And it took me fucking months to find Izzy again in LA. But I somehow did it. When Izzy opened his door he immediately took me in his arms and whispered into my hair, “You found me.”

And that’s when we were at our happiest. Grown and free, no longer hiding in corn fields to love one another. LA accepted us and how we felt. Not even Izzy’s girlfriend Desi was an obstacle. She was always aware of Izzy’s feelings, even before she ever met me. Desi was actually not bad, a junkie, but not a bad person. She seemed happy to see us so happy. My only grievance with her was that she got Izzy started on heroin.

I knew right away the very first day I saw him that he was off somehow. We didn’t have junkies in Lafayette, I didn’t know the signs. But Izzy was offering me the shit within 30 minutes of being there. He did it like he was offering me fucking coffee. He was so blasé about the whole thing. At first I thought it was coke or speed or something. But when I watched Desi sit at the table and start cooking up the dope I figured out fairly quick what it was. I was hesitant and skeptical to say the very least. But Izzy assured me it wasn’t all that bad. He said it wasn’t like I thought, that everything would be fine. And I believed him. Izzy wasn’t hooked right away, it had taken him a good six months of casual using before he started to physically need it. I was right there as it happened. Within a month of finding him I was waking up to him and Desi fighting for turns at the toilet to puke. A few months after that it was all three of us. Some mornings got pretty fucking disgusting.

Money was always something we never had. Izzy and I had job working for some research center where we sat around and chain smoked all day, dream job, right? But every dime we made went up our arms. Desi was the one with the only real source of income. She was a stripper, on any given night she came home with anywhere from 200 to a 500 bucks. She paid the bills and took care of us both. She fed our bellies and our arms. She even took care of a few sexual frustrations we didn’t take out on each other. We very much depended on Desi. For a while things were great, but if there’s a way to fuck something up you can bet either Izzy or I would find a way to do it. We started flaking out at work and got fired. Who the fuck could get fired from a job where you do nothing but smoke cigarettes? Junkies, that’s who. So we became even more dependent on Desi.

Did we love her?...I think maybe so. Not like we loved each other, but she was special to us both. We both slept with her. We both cuddled up to her at night. We all said I love you to one another. It felt like a happy little family. But that ended the night she died. It was my fault. I killed her just the same as if I would have shot her in the head. I didn’t know how long it had been since she shot up. It was just habit to always come home and get high with her. I was later than normal that night so she apparently got tired of waiting for our little ritual. By then Izzy was playing in some band and gone most nights. I myself was just a night owl and roamed the streets, or tailed Izzy. When I came in that night I heard the shower running and knew Izzy was home. She greeted me from the bed with her usual smile, happy to see me. I kissed her hello and immediately started fixing us up a shot each. It never even occurred to me that she had probably gotten high with Izzy already.

So I shot myself up, then her. She fell back on the bed and that was it. I cut on the TV and waited for Izzy to finish his shower. Before I even kicked back good she started to jerk next to me. I looked over at her and her body was contorted and convulsing. Her eyes were rolling back in her head. I called for Izzy. He poked his head out with a smile but lost it and came rushing over when he saw her seizing on the bed.

“What’s wrong with her?” I remember asking him.

Izzy looked up from her side with panicking eyes, “Did you shoot up with her?!”

“Yeah?” I answered.

“Fuck! So did I, right before I got in the shower!”

“Oh shit! Call an ambulance!” I quickly said and reached for the phone.

Izzy grabbed the cord and jerked it from the wall, “We can’t the cops will show up and arrest us!”

“Well…what the fuck do we do?!” I shouted at him.

Izzy quickly stood up and grabbed me by the wrist. “Pack our shit, we have to get the fuck out of here!”

“And just leave her?! She’ll fucking die!!!” I yelled at him. I was completely freaking the fuck out.

Izzy grabbed my face in both hands, “She’s gonna die before help could even make it. We gotta go. Now!”

So while she lay there seizing and turning blue I grabbed our shit and stuffed it in a garbage bag. Izzy took a towel and wiped down every surface we could have possibly touched. By the time we were at the door she was foaming at the mouth. Izzy left first, I turned for one last look at her. She was still now. I knew it was because she was dead. We slept behind a dumpster in some ally that night. We had very little dope on us and no money at all. Izzy knew that by the next morning we would be dry and start getting sick. But I was done. I was terrified and shell shocked from watching Desi overdose. I went cold turkey right there and never looked back.

But Izzy couldn’t. Within a few days he found us a place to stay with his friend Chris. But the dope ran out. Izzy started getting antsy. I was sick as a dog, in and out of consciousness. Izzy slipped out while I was asleep. When I came to I was looking at him sitting by a window crying with a needle over his arm. Naturally I had to get to the bottom of it. Izzy told me he went out and found a place to score. He said that they asked him if he wanted to sell for them since Desi had been such a loyal customer. Well he thought it was a stroke of good fortune, that is until they told him he had to let three guys fuck him. He tried to say never mind, but one of them put a gun to his head. He said he had no choice, so he did it. Now I’m not entirely sure if that’s how it all went down. Duff said Izzy gave them his moms name and address. I think Izzy was willing to do whatever it took to keep from getting sick. He didn’t act raped, not like the other times. But I knew from the guilt in his eyes that he definitely fucked them.

Neither of us were ever the same again after we lost Desi. I went out and got a tattoo of her on my arm to memorialize her I guess. Izzy just progressively did more and more dope. And shit really started going downhill fast. Izzy had always been skinny, even skinnier from drugs, he didn’t own a weapon and it was only a week before he was getting beaten and robbed. But that couldn’t stop him. Now he owed the cartel for the dope he was robbed of. Izzy was dead set to get that money, now I know why.

He did so much shit to come up with that cash. He sold blood and fucking sperm. He had me fucking girls while he snuck in and robbed them. In the end he got the cash and more dope. But a little chunk of his soul had died. I picked up most of my tricks from the master. I found this chick who I could get payed to fuck. I’m not a gigolo pursay, but the money was right. The freaky bitch’s request was for me to piss on her. Well…the money was right so I fucking pissed on her. Then I went out and illegally bought Izzy an untraceable gun.

But not even that gun could protect us all those times we got raped or had to put out not wanting it. I though having a gun meant having control. Now I know there is no such thing as control. Just little illusions we sell ourselves to give us a false sense of comfort. For all the years I had fought to keep Izzy alive and mine, someone else just swoops right in and takes him. Yeah, I really wanted to fucking hurt Slash.
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