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Dear Izzy and Slash,

Please read this all the way through before tearing it up. Because I know you will Izz. I know you're pissed and that's really fucking understandable right now. But PLEASE just read it first.

I feel the need to write to you. As you know, I'm now safely behind bars. It's probably the best place for me right now. At the very least, I'll be able to get the help that I need. I'm ready to admit that I'm a psycho and that what I've been doing is wrong. Fuck, now I've killed Slash's mom.

Izzy - I never ever meant to hurt you. Even from the first day we met I tried my best to control the voices in my head. But when you started fucking around behind my back, they began telling me that I was worthless and a loser and that all you wanted me for was sex. Maybe you did because that's definitely the feeling I got from you some of the time. But the day I found out you'd screwed someone else, I suddenly turned into my father. The voices in my head told me that I had to control you, had to beat you until you gave into me. And I'm sorry that I did that. I'm sorry that I forced you to run to LA just to get away from me. I'm sorry that I fucked around with your family. And now I'm sorry for the death that I've caused. When I came to LA it was to find you and love you again. All I wanted was to hold you in my arms and watch you sleep. But the moment I saw you with Slash, the voices came back and I found myself turning back into my father. I HAD to control you, I HAD to have you and the voices wouldn't leave until I had you drugged and tied to the bed. Izz, I know you'll probably never forgive me for what I've done and I don't blame you. But I want you to know that I'm going to pay for my crimes. I'm going to pay for all the hurt and pain I've given you and I'm going to take it like a man. Actually, I can't take it like a man, because I'm not one. No matter what my father says, beating, drugging, kidnapping and raping the one you supposedly love does not make a man. It just makes a me wimp, someone who can't resolve a problem without resorting to his fists. You'll always be my everything Izz but it's time for me to let you go and move on. Something I should have done the first day I saw that you had changed. You were no longer in love with me. You were in love with Slash. And so you should be. Because he's not going to hit you. He's not going to call you every name under the sun. He's not going to pretend to be something he's not around you. He's just going to love you.

Slash - I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I didn't mean for the gun to go off and I didn't mean for it to kill your mom. But it did and now the state are going to kill me. Which is the only thing I deserve. I'm a fucking maggot, the lowest of the low for what I've put you and Izzy through. You'll never get your mom back and I hope that my death (whenever that is) will somehow avenge hers. You deserve to be happy and now I've probably ripped any chance of that away. Let Izzy take care of you for however long you need. He's good at that, good at making others feel better. I'm just sorry I never really realised that in the time I had with him. He's a beautiful creature with a heart of solid gold and he needs to be loved by someone who'll understand him. Because I never did. I never fully took the time to learn how he worked. Even though I loved him I never really knew him. To me, he was a beautiful toy. A beautiful toy that I repeatedly dropped and broke. Take care of Izzy for me. Please.

I can't apologise enough for what I've done. One day you'll get the vengeance you seek.

Yours,
Bill Bailey/W. Axl Rose

~~~

Sighing I put the letter to one side and look at Slash. He's curled up beside me, his head resting in my lap, a pathetic and broken man. With a weak smile, I gently brush the curls from his face, feeling his warm, shallow breaths against my fingers.

It's three days since the death of his mother, three days since he cradled her in his arms and sobbed as her life force trickled down the drains. Needless to say, it's hit him like a sledgehammer. He fell into shock a few hours after we arrived home, falling to the floor and crying. And my god, they were the most pitiful, haunting cries I've ever heard. They were hollow and shattered, coming in deep sighs and panting gasps. I didn't know what I could do. So I just lay on the floor beside him and held him, letting him get the pain out of his system. We lay there for hours, him crying and me watching as the daylight faded to dusk, taking with it the memories of his mother.

Since then we've been here, in bed. He hasn't eaten and I've had to force water and milk down his throat. I know that he's desperately trying to chase after his mom, desperately wants to be with her in heaven. And I've told him that one day he will be. But first, we have to bring the maniac that did it to justice. Once Bill's locked away for the rest of his days, then Slash can go and do whatever he needs. And if that means throwing himself from the Hollywood sign, then so be it. I just hope he knows that I'll follow him.

Slash stirs a little and I smile as his eyes blink open. But it's only for a brief second and then he's gone again, into the deep and dreamless sleep of the drugs the doctors gave him. They offered me the sleeping pills as well but I refused them. There's more important things to be doing. Like looking after Slash.

I don't know what I'm going to do with this letter. I need to show it to Slash at some point but after that... Maybe I'll burn it, along with anything of Bill's that I still have. A purging of the man who's never going to bother us again. I'm glad that he's gone now. He's caused so much pain and heartbreak. No matter what he says in his letters (and I'm sure they'll be more) it'll never heal what he's done. It'll never heal the scars, neither will it heal the mental trauma. And it most definitely won't bring back Ola. I can't decide though if what he's written is true or not. Bill's always been like that, even as a kid. He'd do something then make some grand gesture to make it up to you. But I appreciate, somewhere deep down, the effect he's made to begin making amends. It's only one letter but at least he's begun acknowledging what a bastard he can be. I'm hoping that they'll be someone in prison who'll be able to help him more. Because you know what? I'd love to see what the real Bill is like. I'd love to see the man he could have become. I'd love to see what he'd be like without the violent mood swings, the lies and the beatings. Because I know that somewhere, in him, is a wonderful and caring person. Sure, I saw it from time to time but I still love to imagine what it would be like to see that Bill a little more often. The kind and caring one who doesn't have to resort to his fists to get his point across. He did approach that in his letter and I'd love to see him do it a little more often.

Sighing, I idly play with Slash's hair, twisting my fingers into the soft, corkscrew-like curls. I suppose Bill and I were both as bad as each other. I'd wind him up to the point where he'd lay his hand to me. And when he'd hit me, I'd wind him up even more, thus creating the vicious cycle we lived in. I honestly don't know why we stayed together as long as we did. Maybe it's because we were scared if we were found out? Maybe, deep down, we enjoyed the viciousness of our relationship? Or maybe we did see the inner beauty in each other? I don't know. All I do know is that we were both pretty much closed books when it came to our emotions. When we got together it was like someone poured boiling wax on us, sealing the cracks and not letting anything out. I never really told Bill I loved him even though I did. And why did I fuck around? I was scared of breaking Bill even more. Scared that if I made love to him, his father would somehow find out and beat us both to death. I didn't want to see Bill with the terror of the forbidden love in his eyes, knowing that his father would see it and interrogate him until he told all. But when we did finally make love, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. And I'm glad of those few years we spent together. Glad that we had some iota of happiness in among the pain.

Maybe I should write to him and tell him exactly why I did fuck around. Maybe I should apologise for being such an asshole to him and treating him like shit. Besides, he's confessed all to me, maybe it's time to confess all to him? Confess that those boys were nothing more than a way for me to get off. A way for me to bypass the sex with him and just give him what I had in my heart.

Chewing on one of my fingers, I look between Slash and the notepad. Should I be doing this? It feels like a betrayal to Slash. Perhaps it is. But I need to get some things off my chest. Because if I don't, I'll never do it. And once Bill is gone, that'll be it. There'll be no turning back and going "I wish I'd done or said that when I had the chance..." I feel bad but I'll risk Slash's wrath when he wakes up.

Moving a little, I pick up the pen and pad that are on the floor. I've spent the past few days, in between looking after Slash and answering the phone, writing notes and stories and lyrics. Now it seems it's time to write a letter.

Dear Bill...