My Jesus of Suburbia

Chapter 22: Pills

TRIGGER WARNING. REASON: PILLS AND SELF-HARM

~~~~~Billie's Point of View~~~~~

     I slipped a shirt on and grabbed Stella's hand. We ran out of the bus together. It hurt to, but I didn't care at the moment. We ran to the room. She grabbed her bag and got the pill bottle out. She threw it to me and I caught it.

     "That's what I've been giving you," she said. "Have they helped?"

     "Well, they completely stop the pain. So, I'm gonna go with yes."

     "Good. Keep that bottle," she said. "I've gotta whole stash of 'em at my house. I'll get those when we get there."

     "A whole stash?" I asked. " Like, how many? One? Two?"

     "50 unused bottles, last time I counted."

     "Wha-why?"

     "Let's just say that my parents still fight because of me and I might still cut....Sometimes, I cut too deep. If you take those pills, they...they completely stop the pain. If you take four or five, you pass out. I know from experience...."

     I went up behind her and hugged her, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her tight. "Oh, baby...let me see?"

     She lifted up her shirt and lowered her jeans a little. She wore many horizontal and vertical scars on her waist. She had them on both sides, the inside and tops of her thighs, and on her lower stomach; places where no one could see. I had seen the ones on her arms already, but I didn't know the extent of the problem.

How did I miss those?

     "Oh, my poor, beautiful girl. When was the last time?"

     "The day before the concert; before you found me." She nervously let her pants fall to the floor, leaving her in just simple black underwear and a shirt. There were neat little red lines leading down her arms, all in single file like orderly soldiers in a row. I can't believe that I missed them before during the shower incident. How could I not see them? I led her to sit on the bed kissed down both of her thighs, making sure I didn't miss one little soldier. "Better?"

     "Y-yeah," she stuttered, her face turning red, almost starting to cry.

     "Come on," I said. "Time to go." I grabbed her hand and led to the back entrance. "Close your eyes," I said. She did, no hesitation.

     I guided her out the door and into the back of a car. "Open your eyes, beautiful." Her eyes fluttered open, followed by a gasp. "A-a limo?" she asked.

     "Yeah. And I'll make sure your car gets sent to my house. I kinda stole your keys from your bag." She searched through her bag, then softly punched my arm. I laughed. "Now, why don't you tell the driver where to go?" She opened the driver's window and told him the address. I put a cd in the stereo when she wasn't looking.

     "Guess what?" I said as she sat back down next me. I pressed play and American Idiot started playing. We laughed as we sang through the whole album together. We arrived at her house just as Whatsername ended. We got out of the limo and held each other's hands as we walked to the front door.

     She was about to knock on the door, but drew her hand back in hesitation.

     "What's wrong?" I asked.

     "I don't...what if they kick me out for good this time?"

     I opened the already-unlocked door.

     "Then they'll have to answer to me," I said with a grin.

'I was the most obnoxious little bastard on the planet.'

~Billie Joe Armstrong