God Save My King (Sid Vicious FanFic)

Ch. 20: Hurt

While I had always been raised to believe that losing my virginity would prove to be quite painful, when I woke up in John's bed the very next morning, my head hurt more than anything else. All the alcohol I had consumed the night before left me with a crippling hang over, and I found myself wincing in pain at the light that came in through the window.

I extended an arm to shake John, who had carried me to bed the night before and had fallen asleep beside me. I wanted to wake him up in the hopes that he would be willing to grab me a glass of water and perhaps some pain killers. But when I grasped nothing but empty space and sheets, I immediately turned over in shock to see that the bed was empty.

John had disappeared, leaving me to wake up the morning after all alone. I hoped that that wasn't a sign that I had just made a terrible mistake. Trying to stay calm, I convinced myself that if I just stood up and walked down the stairs, John would be there cooking breakfast or boiling some tea for the both of us. I told myself that there was nothing to worry about, and I clung to that hope as I gathered my clothes and stepped out of John's bedroom and into the hallway.

As I closed the door, I stood in silence for a moment, trying to listen in on any sounds that might be coming from downstairs. At first, I heard nothing, which alarmed me. Had he left the house completely? Had he really left me all alone here?

But eventually, the soft rhythm of a guitar could be heard, and I recognized The Rolling Stones' song, "Paint It Black" echoing throughout the house. I wondered why John would be playing music all by himself, let alone why he would leave me like that in the first place just to go downstairs and listen to The Stones.

Curiosity urging me to go forward, and disappointment twisting the knife in my chest, I hesitantly began my descent down the stairs. With each step I took, the music grew louder. By the time I had reached the landing, Mick's voice surrounded me in a booming melody, the bass and the drums causing my heart to beat faster to catch up to the rhythm. Or, perhaps, my heart was racing with the anticipation for what I might find in the lower level of the house.

Without giving myself a chance to stop and think, knowing I would more than likely wind up convincing myself to go back upstairs and pretend I'd been sleeping all morning, I stepped towards the sitting room. I continued on until I was in the entryway, not stopping until I had a full view of the room in front of me.

John was there alright, zoning out with his head lolling back against the couch. His eyes were shut so loosely, I could see the flickering of his pupils just under the surface of his eye lids. His face was a blank slate of taut, pale skin threatening to tear over his features, which jutted out like skeletal mountains. But this wasn't what frightened me, as I had long since gotten used to the gaunt look of him. No. What frightened me was the needle protruding from his arm, and the belt that now hung loosely around his bicep.

I had never seen John shoot up before, and this new image of him in my mind only solidified my long standing suspicions. As much as I had ran from the thought, there was no denying it now. Not with the evidence presented right before my eyes. John was a junkie.

It was then that I felt something in me snap. I had to save John. I had to rescue him. This life was proving to be too much for him, and I had to stop it before something horrible happened. Before he was too far gone.

I scrambled to pick up any traces of his heroin fix. I snatched up the nearby spoon and lighter along with the stained aluminum foil, all of which were resting on the coffee table in front of John. I crumpled up the foil, wincing at the scraping metallic sound that it made.

I have no idea how it happened, as John had been sleeping through the Stones' record this entire time, but for whatever reason, the rustling of my cleaning seemed to pull him awake. His eyes fluttered open and immediately landed on me as I struggled to clean up any trace of his stash.

"Kimmy...what the fuck are you doing?" His voice was small and raspy and I almost hadn't heard him over the music. I paused in my cleaning and gaped at him, once again feeling like a child getting caught doing something naughty.

I blushed furiously as I spluttered out a response. "John, I care about you. A lot. I want to help you-"

He cut me off with an aggravated groan. His eyes rolled to the ceiling and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. The spikes on his head took on a new form and, under the influence of drugs, caused him to look even crazier than before.

"Stuff it, Kim. I'm fine. Give me back my smack," he ordered.

I shook my head furiously, refusing to give up on John. I didn't care if he'd hate me for it. I loved him too much to see him like this. I wasn't going to let him kill himself.

"John..."

"My name is Sid!" He bellowed, finally standing from the couch and towering over me menacingly. His nostrils flared as he sneered down at me. "And I don't give a fuck what you say, Kim. That's my shit and I want you to drop it."

I hadn't seen him like this since the time that he had beaten up that poor bloke outside of the pub. Had he been doped up that time too? Was he always like this when he got high? I shrunk away at the volume of his voice, which easily blocked out the music. Still, I felt the obligation to press on.

"Sid," I said carefully, giving him a pointed look. "This stuff is bad for you. It's going to kill you. Please, Sid...I miss you."

For a moment, I thought my words had finally resonated with him. His eyes bulged slightly when I said I missed him, and he looked taken aback. But the expression was fleeting, and he was right back at it again with that sour attitude.

"Give it back, Kim!"

He lunged for me. I let out a shrill squeak and jumped backwards, his hands missing me by inches. Without dropping his drugs, I began to run from him, sprinting for the front door.

Looking over my shoulder, I could see him chasing me. Like a lion after his prey, he was sprinting after me, a ravenous look in his eyes. He was out for blood, and he didn't care that I was his best mate anymore. Because this wasn't John. This was Sid Vicious, and he was determined to live up to the name.

Just as I reached the front door, I tugged it open only for it to be slammed shut as John slammed his entire body against the wooden frame. I screamed in surprise more than genuine fright, but was cut off as John's open palm collided with my cheek.

A silence fell between us and hung heavy like a dark cloud. Our mouths fell open in perfect sync, and I guessed that John was just as surprised as I was that he would do that to me. My trembling hand found its way to my steering hot cheek, and I flinched at the coolness of my own palm.

John fell back against the wall, his mouth still open and his eyes threatening to bulge right out of their sockets.

"John..." I whispered, tears finally finding their way to my eyes as the reality of the situation began to sink in. John hadn't raised a finger to me in my entire life. He had always been my protector, his fist only raising whenever someone had done wrong by me. But now...what had he become?

Almost as if he had read my thoughts, he began to shake his head vigorously.

"No. You don't get it Kim. This is what's wrong with you, Kimmy."

"What's wrong with me?" I scoffed, unable to believe my own ears.

He nodded his head, licking his lips vigorously. "Nancy understands that us lads just get angry sometimes. She lets me hit her, and she forgives me. She understands me."

His voice was shaking as he inched away from me, walking backwards and deeper into the shadows of his empty house. Somehow, this managed to hurt me even more than the slap. To hear him say that some girl he had known less than a year understood him better than I did.

"Well, you two are perfect for one another then," I choked out.

I felt the familiar grip of an invisible hand as it squeezed around my throat. The phantom hand that only seemed to come whenever I was around John. He only brought me pain, it seemed, and I was done. For the first time since I'd known him, I was done with John.

"Good bye, Sid," I murmured, letting his drug paraphernalia clatter to the floor. "Have a good life."