#consider it hugely inspired by what Nikki described when he wrote about his visions in his diary. plus a little of personal experience

[aleximustdr4w]

Terminus - See you in hell

Available on AO3

Fandoms: Mötley Crüe

Characters: Nikki Sixx

Word count: 1141

Rating: M

Warnings: suicide; dealing with trauma; drug abuse (implied); drug-induced psychosis. || Reader discretion is advised. If you're particularly sensitive about this topic(s), please be very careful!! Don't proceed if you know it can cause you any distress. Your safety is more important ❣️

Summary: Nikki's delirious last moments before he gives in.

A/N: This is my first attempt writing ever, so be gentle pls 👉👈

Life is full of "what if"s. Well, my brain likes to torture itself and wonder what if Nikki couldn't take it any longer back in 1987. This fanfic is for sick people like me who like to give their faves a gut-wrenching destiny and be left with their heart heavy and their mind scarred after reading a piece of literature. I would also like to point out that I myself was lowkey having anxiety while writing and re-reading it, just so you know that I didn't take any joy at the thought of the possibility of this actually happening. Having this idea and putting it down to words was an act of twisted cathartic masochism that now I want to share with you because I'm actually proud of myself with how I was able to narrate it. With that being said, I'm grateful every day that Nikki is still with us, and finally, enjoy the car crash.

Special thanks to @allulaiho (who also asked to be tagged once I was finished <3) and @metallicasbian for test-reading this and for the support, it means the whole world to me 🖤

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Nikki feels like a wild animal trapped in a cage. Demons are screaming in the back of his head, getting louder and louder. His mouth is dry, his breath is short, like if he was the one who's been shouting.

For the first time in a long time, he's scared for his life.

"YOU'RE BETTER OFF DEAD!"

"IT'S YOUR FAULT YOUR FATHER LEFT YOU!"

"WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?"

"YOUR WHORE MOTHER WILL NEVER LOVE YOU!"

"YOU'RE WORTHLESS. JUST KILL YOURSELF ALREADY!"

The voices are driving him insane. Or is he hearing voices because he's already gone nuts?

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" Nikki wants to growl back, but when he parts his lips no sound comes out. Breathless, he turns around with a jerky movement of his hand, trying to push the demons away, ending up only moving the air around him.

He could swear they are there though. He is looking at them and he can hear them. They are real. A million little monsters made of shadows, mocking him, with long claws in their hands, sharp knives as their teeth, and eyes like little cigarette embers marching toward him, getting bigger and bigger, and their voices becoming more insistent and distorted. Their laughters are like nails on a chalkboard.

Nikki struggles to get away from them, he trips on something on the floor, losing his balance but managing to catch his own fall with his hands against the wall, in the corner of the dark room, the full moon's reflection from the big window being the only source of cold, white light.

He is facing a creature made of shadows, tall to the ceiling, in a humanoid shape, with big eyes glowing red and a maw filled with needles - and no, it's not an analogy. Its mouth is made of literal syringe needles - curved in a big sadistic smile. It's like the little terrifying monsters collided to make one bigger, even more terrifying monster.

"Where are you running?"

"We'll always be with you."

"You can't escape."

The creature leans closer to his face. Different voices come from the same mouth at the same time. Laughter that becomes screaming. It's not the first time he has visions during a bad trip, but fuck if this doesn't feel more real and vivid than any other time. He can feel the fucking shadow breathe on his face. A cold, dry breeze coming through the gates of hell that is its mouth. He can even vaguely make out its features. Is the thing really looking like a fucked-up version of himself or is he just making shit up now?

The sounds that pour out of that ghostly blob become unbearable. Nikki can hardly distinguish the two voices he is hearing that are arguing in the back of his head. It's his mother and father - wait, no. It's him arguing with his mother. Back when he stabbed himself to the bone in front of her. The two voices become more shrill until they are mixed together to form an untenable roar and a cluster of unintelligible piercing noises, making his ears ring.

In a fit of amok, Nikki tries reaching for something near him and his hands land on an half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's on the floor (so THAT's what he tripped on before then) and throws it to the flickering fiend with all the rage and dread he has in his body. The flask flies across the room and violently smashes into a million pieces, staining the wall with its dark liquid (which, in that spectral light, looks like the blood of someone has sprayed all over). The beast - Nikki doesn't even how to call it anymore - doesn't even flinch, having the bottle going right through it.

What the fuck?

Nikki swallows, despite having the mouth still as dry as the Persian desert.

His heart is beating so fast his chest hurts. He feels his blood pumping through his jugular. His temples are thumping like the drums in a song for a ritual of human sacrifice. And Nikki feels like he's the offering to an unholy eldritch god.

He frantically reaches for the closet's handle and slams the door open to then slip inside as fast as possible and locks himself in.

At least he's safe there.

Nikki is hyperventilating, inhaling sharply, panicking and twitching, eyes wide open. The voices haven't stopped, but they seem quieter now. He catches a glimpse of his own face in the mirror. He looks like what he is: a madman that has seen the devil himself. Eyes bulging with dark circles under them so deep they reach half of his cheeks, pale cadaverous skin, and hair that looks like dead grass in a graveyard. He concentrates on his semi-open mouth that moves regularly along with his short breaths, then he directs his attention to his own eyes.

Nikki sees himself decaying in real time, becoming a corpse with no eyeballs in the sockets and the flesh completely rotten. The reflection reaches for him with its skeletal hand and a muffled, guttural, deafening shriek comes out of its gaping black hole of a mouth. Nikki immediately punches the mirror in a cry of terror, jolting back, breaking down in his spiral to madness and letting the shadows and voices claim his fragile sanity once again.

"You son of a bitch, where do you think you're going?!"

"Don't fucking hide, you fucking coward!"

"Where's your daddy now, Frankie?"

A sudden shiver runs down his spine that grips his whole body.

His heart is palpitating, the blood rushing to his ears makes him feel dizzy and see static, rivers of cold sweat running down his back as his trembling, bloody hands move on their own, searching for the shotgun.

"Do it."

It doesn't take him too long since it's out of its box. Nikki picks it up and looks at it, measuring its weight in the hands. It's already loaded. (Weird, he thinks. But he doesn't have the mind to ask too many questions right now.) If it's possible, his heart is racing even faster.

"Do it!"

He used to despise and make fun of suicidal people. He can't believe how the tables have turned.

After this, it's finally going to be over.

"DO IT!"

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!"

The voices are getting louder. The cold metal tastes like blood on his tongue.

Time to kiss your ass goodbye.

"JUST FUCKING DO IT!!"

Nikki closes his eyes tight shut. His whole body is shivering like he's been electric shocked. His thoughts are a blur of terror. He sees his mother, his father, his band mates. Tommy's laughter from the party they were just a few hours ago echoes in the back of his head.

Nikki takes a deep breath.

See you in hell.

He pulls the trigger.