𝐐𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𖤐 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐤

(James looks down, then looks back up at Lars)

Lars: What?

James: Where’s your shoes man?

Kirk Hammett guitar solo, Live in Mexico City 1993

ᴏɴᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ 𖤐 1991 ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴛꜰɪᴇʟᴅ

★ Summary: When she walks into the studio just doing her job, James is forced to confront the one-night mistake he never stopped thinking about—and this time, he doesn’t let her walk away.

warnings ⚠︎︎: SMUT (finally…), unprotected p in v, creampie, a little dirty talk 🤭

James sat hunched over his guitar in the isolation booth, fingers frozen on the fretboard. The song was there, burning in the back of his mind, but his hands wouldn’t move. His thoughts were too loud, his skin itched with frustration, and he hadn’t slept right in days.

The booth was dim, lit only by a bulb buzzing overhead. Outside, the control room was empty - Lars had bailed mid-take, pissed about something stupid, again. Bob Rock had followed him out, muttering something about “cooling off.” James didn’t even bother to argue, he was tired of yelling.

He rested the guitar against the wall, his jaw clenched as he rubbed a hand down his face. Nothing Else Matters had been too much - too close. Recording it felt like someone had cracked his chest open and started digging.

The thoughts in his head were too loud that he didn’t even hear the door open behind him. It was the quiet shuffle of someone trying not to be noticed that caught his attention. He turned his head sharply, and there she was - halfway through the door, freezing the moment she realized he was still in the booth. She hadn’t expected anyone to be in the studio, not at this hour, and especially after the yelling she heard earlier.

She just needed her clipboard - she left it by the couch on accident after the last chaotic round of note passing between producers and engineers, that was it, in and out.

But the second she stepped inside and saw him, everything in her body froze.

His eyes met hers, his brows furrowed.

“The fuck do you want?” His voice was low, he definitely remembered her.

She cleared her throat, “I left something.” she said as she grabbed the clipboard and held it by her chest. “You work here now?” he asked, “Been working here,” she replied, “You just didn’t notice.” He turned fully, facing her with his arms crossed. He looked her up and down; he noticed the shoes she was wearing, the jeans she had on, and the black shirt with ‘Studio Crew’ written in bold white words across the top.

She looked him up and down too; she remembered the dim bar lights, his hand gripping her hip, the whiskey on his breath, and her mouth crashing onto his in the dark. One night, one kiss, one near-mistake neither of them talked about to anyone, or each other, until now.

He had noticed that she worked there, he’d just chosen to ignore it. Their eyes locked - like two guns cocked and loaded, waiting to see who’d pull first.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.” he muttered. She gave a quick, humorless smile, “Didn’t think you remembered.” James stepped forward once, slow and deliberate. “I remember everything.”

She swallowed hard, fingers tightening on the clipboard. This wasn’t how she wanted to see him again. But that part of her, the reckless part - the one that had kissed him first in the bar she never should’ve been in, didn’t care.

She tried to move, “I’ll go-” but he stepped towards her again, “Don’t.” One word, sharp, clipped, but not angry. It sounded like a plea - so she stopped. He moved another step closer, he wasn’t touching her, but she could feel him - heat, tension, all of it pressing in like the room was too damn small. “You walked out before,” he said, his voice rasped. “You gonna do that again?” She looked up at him, heart pounding. “That night wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

“Bullshit.”

And then he took the clipboard from her hands and let it drop, and this time she didn’t stop him. Suddenly his hands were on her. Big, calloused palms sliding around her sides, gripping her hips like he needed the contact to stay grounded. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, “You think I haven’t been thinking about you since that night?” She sucked in a breath at his words, her hands hovered at his chest, like she couldn’t decide whether to shove him away or pull him closer. “Don’t do that.” she whispered.

“Do what?” he asked, eyes boring into hers.

“Say shit you don’t mean.” she replied quietly. James laughed - quiet and bitter. “You think I’m lyin?” His grip tightened, dragging her flush against him. “I’ve tried like hell not to think about you.”

She didn’t pull away. Not this time. Her fingers finally settled against his chest, curled into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve tried not to either.”

The rough breath he exhaled sounded almost like relief, their foreheads nearly touched now, and when he spoke again, it was softer, honest. “Every time I see you walking down that hall like you don’t even remember, like that night didn’t happen, I want to loose my fucking mind.” She shook her head slowly, “I remembered, I just didn’t think you wanted me too.”

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. “I wanted everything.”

She didn’t even think, she just kissed him first.

Deeply, passionately, the same way she kissed him at that bar months ago. His hands slid down her back, cupping the bottom of her ass, one of his hands tapped the side of her thigh. She understood what he meant, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his torso. He carried her to the couch, turning so he sat and she straddled him.

Her knees pressed into the worn leather of the couch, her lips were becoming swollen from kissing him like it was the only thing keeping her sane. His fingers hooked beneath the fabric of her shirt, pushing it up, dragging it over her skin inch by inch. Her stomach, her ribs, the soft dip right before her bra - he took in all of it like he was mesmerized by her in real time. When the shirt finally cleared her head he tossed it to the ground without a second thought.

She didn’t give him time to admire. Her hands were already sliding under his shirt with urgency she hadn’t let show before. She gripped the hem, tugging it up and over, leaving him bare beneath her. “You haven’t changed,” he said quietly, gaze locked on hers. “Still don’t play fair.”

She smirked, breath catching. “Neither do you.” His hands were back on her, his fingertips traced over the skin just above her waistband like he couldn’t decide where to touch first. His mouth followed, leaving her lips and trailing a slow, open kiss down her throat to the top of her chest, tongue dragging and teeth grazing.

She gasped when he reached behind her, unclasping her bra with one practiced flick of his finger. It slid from her shoulder like silk. “Fuck,” he muttered, sliding his hands up her ribs to cup her breasts. She moaned at the contact, hips instinctively grinding against his lap. And she felt it beneath her, thick and hot through the denim of his jeans, and very real.

James groaned, thrusting up enough to meet her movement. “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna last.” he growled against her neck. His hands slid down, undoing the button on her jeans with quick, rough fingers. She bit her lip, watching him with blown pupils and flushed cheeks, lifting herself up just enough to help him drag the denim down her hips, then off completely. She was in nothing but her underwear now, straddling him in the middle of the studio couch.

“You’re still dressed.” she whispered, her hands moving down his chest. James smirked, “Fix that.” and she did. Her hands were on his belt in seconds, undoing the buckle, dragging the zipper down until she could finally push the denim past his hips. He kicked them off with a grunt, breath stuttering as she palmed him through his jeans.

He hissed through his teeth, grabbing her by the waist, and in one rough motion he pulled her down against him - skin to skin now, barely anything between them. “You want this?” he asked, she nodded, breath catching. “Yes.”

That was all he needed. He hooked a finger under the waistband of her underwear and slid them off in one fluid motion, tossing them aside. Then he freed himself, cock hard and flushed. His hand stroked himself - once - twice - before finally guiding her down onto him, inch by inch.

They both moaned at the contact.

She sank onto him fully, thighs trembling, hands digging into his shoulders, head falling back as he filled her completely. “Fuck,” he groaned, gripping her hips tight. “You feel so good - so tight–”

She rolled her hips, setting a rhythm, and he met her every movement with rough, hungry thrusts. Their bodies moved together hard and fast, all tension and heat, the couch creaked under them as she studio walls held their moans like a secret. Every thrust, every grind, every breathless kiss was months of tension unraveling all at once. And neither of them held back.

“Look at you,” he growled, watching her ride him like she was made for it. He slid his hands up her back, fingers digging in, keeping her close. “Such a fuckin’ slut.” He thrusted up harder, “Yes. God, yes.” she moaned, her head tipping forward, lips brushing his jaw. Her nails scraped down his chest, “You’re mine right now,” he growled, “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped. “All yours.”

“Fuck yeah you are.”

He slammed into her harder now, one hand gripping the back of her neck, the other one splayed across her ass, guiding her movement, pushing her down onto him with every thrust like he couldn’t get deep enough. “You gonna come for me?” he whispered, she broke at that - legs trembling, body arching, and moan spilling from her lips so loud it echoed off the studio walls. “Fuck - yes, fuck.” he growled, slamming into her one more time as he spilled inside of her, jaw clenched, eyes locked on hers like he needed to see her fall apart.

They stayed like that; tangled, sweaty, and breathless.

The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. He didn’t move right away, and neither did she. Her head rested on James’ shoulder, his hand lazily stroked up and down her spine, their clothes were scattered across the floor in a trail of impulse decisions. She let out a soft laugh, “What?” he murmured. She shrugged, cheeks still flushed. “You’re different when you’re not yelling at everyone.” James snorted, “Don’t get used to it.”

Just then, a voice - unmistakably Lars filtered in from the hallway just outside the studio door. “Dude… are they still in there?” A second voice - clearly Bob’s answered, “I told you to give him space, not have-sex-on-the-couch-we-all-sit-on space.” his voice was clearly annoyed.

Her eyes widened, James just grinned. “Shit.” she whispered, laughing into her hand. He didn’t even flinch, just pulled her closer and tossed his arm around her shoulder. “They’ll live.”

𖤐 Hello everyone! 𖤐

My name is Elise and I’m new to Tumblr!!

A lot of my friends recommended this app as a way to put myself out there and get better at writing — so that’s exactly what I’m here for!

I mainly write for my favorite band of all time:

Metallica 🤘

Expect a mix of angst, fluff, and probably smut.

That being said:

This blog is 18+ only — MDNI!! ⚠︎︎

Feel free to send in story ideas or requests — I’ll write them if I can ❤︎

Hi everyone! I just finished reading Daisy Jones and the Six and i’m OBSESSED!! I’m planning on making a story that’s kind of like that, so expect that to be out sometime this week!

Omg!?😵‍💫🥴🤒😍

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ: “ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ”

Summary: Told through interviews with her, James, and the rest of the band - this is the untold story of James Hetfield and his first love, and the wreckage it left behind.

Warnings ⚠︎︎: This is NOT an actual interview with the band, this completely made up!

[Interviewer] You stayed with him? Even after all of that?

[Her] I did. I know that probably sounds crazy. I think if it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have. But I still loved James.

[Her] We met up a few days after I caught him. I wanted to look him in the eye and see if he’d lie to me again. I just needed honesty I guess… even if it hurt.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - 1990

He looked rough. Unshaven, wrinkled t-shirt, his hands were shaking slightly.

She stirred her coffee and said nothing for a while. Finally, she spoke, her voice was calm but detached.

“Did you sleep with her?”

James didn’t look away. “Yeah. But… I was drunk, and it was stupid. I didn’t even know her name.”

She looked at him. Her eyes slowly filling with tears.

“You promised you wouldn’t James?”

“I know. But, I swear to god–”

“Don’t,” she cut in. “Don’t say that, you swore before.”

James leaned forward, “I know, and I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just asking you to not leave, please. Let me fix this, let me be better.”

She wiped the tear that slowly fell down her cheek. “I don’t trust you.” her voice trembled. “I’ll earn it back.” he said, gently placing his hand over hers.

She took a deep breath, “Okay. One more chance.”

James nodded.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Interviewer] How was it after that?

[Her] Hard. Weirdly beautiful too. He was recording the Black Album, and I’d be at the studio most nights, just sitting on the couch listening to them play.

[James] She kept me grounded.

[Jason] It was a weird time. The album blew up after it was released, and the tour was massive. And in the middle of it all, he was trying to be a better man.

[Her] He’d leave notes on the nightstand before he went to the studio, from what I heard he was always talking about me… bragging about me. He was trying.

[Interviewer] Did he tell you what he was gonna do that night?

[Lars] Nope.

[Kirk] No, he didn’t.

[Jason] Nah.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - Last day of the Black Album tour, 1992

The venue was huge. People everywhere - press, radio, execs, friends, managers, for some reason Van Halen was there.

She was standing near the bar in a black dress, sipping on a soda since she had decided to give up drinking.

Then someone tapped the mic.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a familiar voice echoed through the room. She turned around to see James on the stage holding the microphone, looking at her.

“I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life. But this is the only thing I’ll ever mean without second guessing it.”

He pulled out a small, velvet box from his jacket and opened it. A simple, elegant ring. You could see it shine from across the room.

“Baby,” he said, his mouth forming a big smile. “Will you marry me?”

The whole room fell silent.

She was in shock - total, buzzing, heart thudding shock.

And then she smiled, walked right up on that stage, and said, “Yes.”

He picked her up in his arms, kissed her in front of everyone, placed her back down, and slid the ring on her finger.

She smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, smiling for the cameras as they flashed. The crowd lost it.

She looked up and smiled, it was perfect.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Her] It was the most romantic thing he’d ever done. I think I still have the newspaper with the picture of him kissing me somewhere in the house.

[James] She said yes, and I thought that meant everything would fall into place.

[Her] But, a ring doesn’t mean you’re ready.

[Interviewer] So things went downhill after that?

[Her] Yeah. Slowly, then all at once.

[Interviewer] What about leading up to the wedding.

[Her] Well… the wedding (Laughs) Uhm, things were good… until about ‘94.

[James] Wow, thinking about all of that is a little uh… it’s painful.

[Interviewer] So you didn’t get married?

[Her] No. I couldn’t. Not to the version of him that showed up.

[Kirk] They were at each others throats. We all felt it. The vibe during the break was just… tense.

[Jason] They both started to drink more. James would be out camping or shooting stuff. She went out partying. It was like they were avoiding being alone together.

[Her] We were fighting constantly. About stupid things. Eventually, I kicked him out one night. He went to the studio, didn’t call, didn’t come home. I think thats when I knew.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - 1994

She walked in wearing jeans and a faded Metallica hoodie she hadn’t worn in months, but it was finally cold outside and she needed something warm to wear. The studio was quiet except for the faint hum of a guitar. She walked into the room, everyone was there.

“Can you guys give me and James a minute?” she asked, her voice steady but low.

They nodded and left, no one asked any questions.

James looked up from the mixing board. His eyes were bloodshot, tired, defensive.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms.

She closed the door behind her, and took a deep breath. “I can’t do this anymore James.”

He scoffed, like it was a joke. “What, another fight? Come on. Say what you need to say so we can get it over with.”

“I don’t want to get married.” she said as she slid the ring off her finger.

James was silent.

“I’m serious,” she added. “I’m leaving.”

James stood slowly, “No you’re not.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking. “I am.”

He walked towards her, arms out like he could reason it away. “We’ve been through worse baby, it’s just a rough patch–’’

“I can’t marry a man who disappears into a bottle whenever life gets hard.”

His jaw clenched at her words. “You think you’re perfect? You think you haven’t changed?”

“I have changed. I grew up, you didn’t.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, “You’ve been unbearable lately.”

That did it.

“I won’t raise a kid with a man like you,” she whispered. “I won’t bring a child into this mess.” James blinked. He couldn’t handle the sting, he threw the only thing he had left:

“Maybe it’s for the best. You’d be a shitty mom anyway.”

The slap came instantly. Loud and sharp and deserved.

His cheek stung, and slowly became red.

She stepped back, opened the door, and left.

This time, he didn’t chase her.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Her] I left L.A. and moved to Seattle to live with my sister the next day. I think I cried the whole plane ride.

[James] I still can’t believe I said that to her. I can’t take it back, I deserved the slap.

[Kirk] I remember seeing her hand print on his cheek when we walked back in.

[Lars] After that, he didn’t talk.

[Her] The engagement was over. For the first time in over a decade, we were really done.

[Interviewer] But you two are married now, how did that happen?

[Her] Well…

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ : “ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴘ ɢɪʀʟ”

Summary: Told through interviews with her, James, and the rest of the band - this is the untold story of James Hetfield and his first love, and the wreckage it left behind.

Warnings ⚠︎︎: this is NOT an actual interview with the band, this is completely made up!

INTERVIEW - 2003

[Interviewer] So… how’d you and James meet?

[Her] God. That was in ‘82. I wasn’t really planning on being there that night, I was just helping out a friend who was running sound that night. He needed someone to help lift gear before the show, and I’d never lifted a damn amp in my life. But I said yes, cause the crew got free drinks.

[James] (Laughs) I remember it like it was yesterday. This girl walks in, wearing jean shorts and a Motörhead shirt, and she’s dragging this amp across the floor like it had personally insulted her.

[Her] It had insulted me. It was way heavier than he said it’d be.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FLASBACK - 1982

“You good with that?” a voice called from the side of the stage.

She glanced up. A tall guy with blond hair was standing a few feet away, beer in hand, watching her. “I’m fine.” she snapped, giving the amp one final tug. It didn’t budge.

He walked over slowly, his sneakers loud against the floor, and crouched beside her.

“You know that thing’s like ninety pounds, right?” he asked. “Yeah I figured that out five minutes ago.” He grinned at her reply, and it hit her all at once how annoyingly handsome he was - sharp cheekbones, warm eyes, a little too cocky.

“I’m James.” he said, reaching out a hand. She looked at it, then at him. “I didn’t ask.” she said, but shook his hand anyways. He laughed, “Okay. And you are…?”

She told him her name, and for a second he just kind of stood there like he was trying to memorize it.

“You gonna stare at me, or help me move this thing?” she said, raising an eyebrow. He grabbed the other side of the amp without saying anything, and with one good lift they got it into place.

“You come with the gear?” he asked, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Nope. Just helping a friend.” she said after she let out a breath. “Cool. You should stay for the show.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

But she already knew she would. And he already knew he was going to be watching the crowd the whole time - just to see if she was still there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Interviewer] When did things actually… start between you two?“

[Lars] Oh, I remember the exact night. She came with us on the tour. We were somewhere in the midwest. Iowa? Indiana? One of those.

[Kirk] It was definitely Indiana. I remember because the air conditioner broke, and we were all miserable and arguing. I thought they were already together by then? They weren’t?

[Her] Of course Kirk thought we were already together. But, no. That night was… kind of the beginning.

[James] It was late, like two or three in the morning. Everyone else was asleep, or wandered off somewhere. And she was just… there. Sitting on the little couch we had in the tour bus, legs up, eating a bag of potato chips.

[Her] It was the only food on the bus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FLASHBACK - 1986

She sat cross-legged on the couch in the front of the bus, her hair was damp from a rushed post-show shower at the venue, wearing a baggy Metallica shirt James had tossed her a few nights earlier. She was cradling a family sized bag of potato chips, every few seconds she’d fish one out with two fingers and crunch dramatically.

James flopped down next to her, “You guarding those chips with your life, or can I get one?” She arched her brow and slid the bag an inch in his direction, then snatched it back the second he reached for one.

“You guys already wiped out the beef jerky, the trail mix, and MY cookies. This is all I have left. Let me have this.” she said. He let out a dramatic sigh. She popped another chip into her mouth and chewed slowly, purposefully loud. James snatched a chip when she wasn’t looking, but she quickly smacked it out of his hand so hard it flew and hit the window.

They both burst out laughing. She snorted, which made him laugh harder. At one point she had to cover her face with a pillow to keep from waking up the rest of the bus.

It was stupid, and loud, and perfect.

Then – quiet.

When she leaned back, breathless and flushed, James just watched her.

“You’ve got crumbs.” he said, tapping his bottom lip. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, “Better?” she asked. “Nope. Still there.” He leaned it, slow this time. She didn’t move.

Then he kissed her.

It was clumsy and quick, noses bumped, her leg knocked into the table, someone definitely elbowed someone else, but it didn’t matter. They were both smiling too much to care. He tasted like beer, she tasted like chips. It was ridiculous and perfect.

When they pulled apart, she kept her hand on his chest. “That was terrible.” she whispered, grinning. “I know,” he said “Wanna do it again?”

She nodded.

And they did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

INTERVIEW - 2003

[Interviewer] Was there ever a point where everything felt stable? Like it was really working out?

[Her] Yeah, before everything felt apart.

[Kirk] They were solid during the Justice tour. Like, really solid. She was with us for almost every show in the states, but she had to go back to California for something important. James was different when she was there, and when she wasn’t.

[Jason] He wasn’t drinking as hard when she was there. I only really saw him drink when she was drinking too. He smiled more too…I don’t know, he was lighter.

[James] It felt real, ya know. We’d been together for a couple of years by then. She knew all of my shit and still stayed. I thought that mean’t that I could get away with more than I could’ve.

[Her] I thought I knew him. I thought I had all of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FLASHBACK - 1989

She was curled up at the end of the hotel bed, her legs tangled in James’s. She flipped through a magazine she’d swiped from the lobby.

James why lying in a worn band tee, arms folded under his head, watching her like she was the best part of the room. “You know this thing says pineapple is like some magic anti-inflammatory?” she said, tilting the page toward him. “Interesting.” he said. She smiled and tossed the magazine aside and crawled up to James. He pulled her down beside him and wrapped his arms around her.

They talked about places they wanted to go, like Rome, Japan, Yosemite. She joked about getting married on a tour bus in Nevada. James had laughed, but then go quiet and touched her face gently.

She didn’t see it coming.

Not for a second.

It was two weeks later. Another show, another city. She’d flown out to surprise him - Jason had helped her plan it. She was going to sneak into the venue and be waiting in the dressing room when the band came offstage.

But the door was already opened when she got there.

The first thing she saw was a bra on the couch.

Then the girl.

Then James.

And she froze.

He was laying there in nothing but his underwear, and she was cuddled up next to him with her hand on his chest. He was in the middle of laughing at something, but his smile faded quickly when he saw her.

She didn’t say anything. She just turned and walked, fast. She didn’t even know where she was going, just away. James chased after her, calling her name, swearing it wasn’t what it looked like, but it was exactly what it looked like. And they both knew it.

That night, she stayed in a motel three miles from the venue, alone.

She didn’t cry until the morning.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

INTERVIEW - 2003

[Her] I still don’t remember walking out of the room. Like… I know I did obviously, but it’s all blank. I just remember the color of the walls, and the girls lipstick, bright red, like clown red.

[Lars] We stayed back on stage to interact with the crowd, James left because he said he had “Business to attend too.” and so as we were coming off the stage we saw her, she walked right past us. She didn’t even look at any of us, just down at the floor.

[Kirk] She looked…broken, I think is a good way to describe it. Not screaming, not crying, she just looked like the wind had been knocked out of her. I tried to call her name, but she didn’t stop.

[Jason] And James, man. He came running out two seconds letter in his boxers. He looked completely wrecked.

[Lars] He shoved past us, and said “Where did she go?” and I was like, “What the fuck did you do?”

[Her] I think what hurt the most is that he promised me he wouldn’t do anything like that. I knew he wasn’t perfect, I expected the drinking and stuff, but not that. I thought this, whatever we had was different.

[James] The second I saw her face…everything just collapsed. That look, like she didn’t even see me anymore, just some guy. I deserved that. I deserved worse than that.

[Kirk] We heard him screaming at the girl to get out. I mean screaming. She left crying, and then James just started throwing shit.

[Jason] He trashed the whole dressing room. Mirrors, bottles, the couch - everything. I’d never seen him like this before. Not even drunk.

[James] I wanted to hurt something. I remember looking around the room and thinking, “How the fuck could I do this to her?” I knew I was gonna lose her. And I knew it was my fault.

[Her] I stayed in some run down motel that night. I didn’t even bring a change of clothes, I just curled up in the same hoodie I’d worn on the plane. And I kept thinking, “He’s gonna call. He’s gonna fix this.”

He didn’t.

[Lars] She called the hotel that night, I think she called Jason.

[Jason] She told me what happened, she told me to tell James where she was, but not to say anything else to him.

[Lars] He didn’t talk to anyone for like, three days. Just locked himself in his hotel room after the shows and drank.

[James] I couldn’t call her. Even though Jason told me where she was, I just didn’t know what the hell I’d say. “Sorry” felt like a joke. I’d promised her, swore to her. And I still did it. I hurt the one person who saw through all my bullshit.

[Her] It didn’t feel like the end right away. It felt like dying in slow motion.