Pure Massacre // Billie Joe

(8)

Faith

The tears slip out of my eyes, travelling down my face to wet the pillow I was lying on. I try and hide the sobs as much as I could, as I didn't Paul to come back into my room for round 2.

I'm not sure what I preferred. The verbal abuse, or the physical. Both hurt like hell. I had cleaned myself up as much as I could after this beating, but I'm not sure how much of it I could handle. Believe it or not, but it was very physically draining to have your body thrown around your room and beaten. I was already starting to fade away.

I could hear bottles smashing from outside my door. I could hear everything from my room, since the apartment isn't big. Paul lost a shit ton of money while gambling today, and I was the first thing he saw when he came through the door. Of course he would take out his anger on me.

I've notice it becoming more and more frequent. It used to be spread out, but now I would be getting them around 5 times a week.

I didn't know what to do. There was nothing I could do. Where would I go if I told the police? If Paul got locked away, I would be sent to some shitty foster home. And that doesn't seem any better. And why would anyone care? I'm just a lonely, depressed teen who half wishes she was dead, but half wishes she could actually live her life.

I shut my eyes, letting out a long breath of air. I was trying to calm myself for sleep. It was well past midnight, and I had to get up in 6 hours for school.

Unlike most kids, I actually liked school. It was a way for me to escape. I wasn't targeted or anything. I kept to myself, got high-average marks and did the work. I escaped the abuse at home, the neglect, the the coldness I felt from the apartment. It wasn't my home. I slept in it, but no. It wasn't my home. My home was back on the leafy street where I lived with my mom and dad. The home where the only time I felt despair in it was when it was taken away from me.

But Joey. Joey made it so much better to me. A boy actually took notice of me. A boy gave me his number. A boy was nervous to talk to me. It was a dream come true, and to be honest, I don't know how I handled it.

I roll onto my back, pulling the thin blanket over my body. It was always so cold. I could put on fifty layers of wool and I would still be shivering.

It's been so long, that I don't know the difference between shivering from the cold, or in fright.

I peel my eyes open again, my jaw dropping straight away. A dark figure stood at the bottom of my bed, hands shoved casually in pockets. My eyes widen, and I immediately feel my toes curl.

Billie?

"W- What are you doing here?" I whisper, clutching the blanket even tighter.

"I couldn't leave my baby girl to cry herself to sleep" He replies, sending me a soft smile.

Billie lets his jacket fall to the floor, slowly letting his tongue wet his lips. I shudder as he leans forward, beginning to put his weight on the bed. The bed dips, and he gradually begins to crawl up the bed, towards me.

"You're so cold" He finally says, arms standing up on either side of me. I gulp, staring up at him with quivering lips.

"Let me get under the covers" Billie seductively smirks at me. "Let me warm you up"

I slightly nod, every bone in my body telling me this was wrong. I couldn't help but think of Joey. Was this wrong? I think I need it, but I'm sure I'm going to regret it later

Billie climbs in beside me, not trying to hide that he had eyed my body up and down. I suck in a sharp breath as he takes me in his arms, pulling me close to him. I grip onto his shirt, feeling engulfed in his warmness.

"Don't cry anymore, princess" He coos, slowly rubbing up and down my back.

Billies hand pushes a piece of hair behind my ear, and I soon relax. I shut my eyes, wanting this moment to last forever. I felt protected, loved, wanted. Something I don't feel often.
He truly made me feel warm inside.

Billies head dips, and I feel my heart jump when I feel his lips on my neck. He trails small kisses over my jaw line, and soon enough places one on the corner of my lips.

"You're all mine, precious" Billie sincerely says, green eyes flashing.

Soon, he leans in, and presses his rough lips to mine. Another side of me takes over straight away, and I find myself tangling my hands through his black hair. Billie holds my waist, flipping us over. His dominant side breaks through as he trails a hand down my thigh, not once breaking the passionate kiss.

He finally breaks it, leaving me out of breath and craving more. Billie slips his grey t-shirt over his head, throwing it to the side somewhere. I didn't care. I just wanted him. Nothing else was going through my mind.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for daddy?"

I nod again, not able to get the words out. I didn't know what he meant by daddy, but all I knew is that it turned me on so much.

"I wanna hear you say it" Billie says in a raspy tone.

"Yes" I breathlessly reply.

"That's not what I mean, darling"

"I- I'll be a good girl for daddy"

The words sound so foreign coming out of my mouth. The only other time I'd said the word was to my father years ago. But now, this was a different situation and I loved every second of it.

"Good girl" Billie smiles, softly stroking my face with his hand. I close my eyes, leaning my face into the embrace of his hand. I wanted him. I wanted him so bad.

I slowly open my eyes again, my eyebrows furrowing straight away. Where's Billie? Where did he go?

I sit up in my bed, looking around. He was nowhere to be seen.

A pang of sadness hits me in the chest when I realised what had happened.

It was a dream. It was only a dream

I just had a very sexual dream about a 43 year old man.

And I liked it.