A Note Don't Come Easy, chapter 31
"Come on Stef... You're going to make it... I promise you. I know you will. I can feel it."
Billie Joe stroked my hand again as he cried down on me, drawing tears from my own eyes too. I closed my eyes for a second in drowsiness and exhaustion.
"Come on, hang in there. Not much longer now. Not much longer."
I re-opened my eyes a little, staring endlessly up at the man I loved. The ONLY man I loved.
"Billie! Billie!" I heard a voice cry from behind the door, growing louder and louder with the plunder of footsteps. "Billie!"
Billie Joe looked at me for a few more seconds, taking in the voice before turning his head in the direction of the noise.
"Tre!" Billie Joe screamed back, returning to look down on me incase I deteriorated suddenly. "Tre!"
He screamed like a madman, the tears still streaming down his face, his eyes a mess and glazed over.
There was another clatter of running footsteps as Tre threw himself against the stairwell door, his face appearing on the other side of the window. He entered the stairwell, panic stricken as he looked down on the both of us. He looked at me lying across his lap at the bottom of the steps, and then slowly at Billie Joe.
"She's going to be ok Tre. She's going to make it." Billie Joe smiled up at him, stroking my hand still but not being able to stop the tears yet. "She squeezed my hand. She squeezed my hand Tre!"
Billie Joe let out a sudden light laugh, becoming excited over the fact that I had been able to communicate with him in some way.
For a few seconds, Tre seemed to stop panicking, and he smiled down on his friend at the news. But he soon remembered to as why he had come suddenly running back.
"Mike's got a car Billie." He told him, as Billie turned back to smile at me. "Mike's got a car. He's waiting outside for us."
Billie Joe continued to look down on me still, before suddenly looking up at Tre and taking in a deep breath.
"Ok," he took in another haul of air. "Ok. Let's get her out of here."
And for the first time in ages, Billie Joe and Tre forgot about their differences and all the nasty words that had been exchanged the previous evening.
Tre walked into the stairwell fully, instead from leaning in through the doorway to help Billie Joe lift me up in his arms. Billie Joe grabbed hold of my sleeves to my hoody that he had rolled up and pulled them down over my arms to hide the cuts and slashes from passers by.
Tre walked towards me, turning white once again. He hadn't seen me up close, and he felt sickened. He hated seeing me like this.
It broke his heart.
"Shit Billie," Tre gawped, looking down on the two of us as he rolled down the sleeve to my left arm. "She got your name done."
He pointed at the tattoo on my arm amongst the blood, slightly taken back as Billie Joe paused, looking into my eyes.
"Yeah." He whispered. "I know."
He bowed his head down as there was a moment's silence between the three of us. Billie Joe proceeded to carry on, grabbing hold of my other sleeve and covering up the tattoo, as well as my deep cuts that were dug into my wrist.
Tre helped to support me as Billie Joe stood up with all the strength he had left, using the wall as a guide. Struggling to stand, as he was so weak, Tre held onto me until he had full support of me in his arms.
"Come on, let's get her to the hospital." Billie Joe grunted, hoisting me up so I was folded up over his arms, heading towards the door.
Tre immediately ran ahead to the door and opened it for Billie to walk through, carrying me. He let us past through before following, standing next to Billie as he stared around the lobby, anxious.
"They're gonna see Tre." He panicked. "They're going to see her, and they're going to think things about her. It's not fair. She's not a bad person. She didn't deserve this. They're gonna look at her like she's a piece of shit. I know she didn't mean to do this Tre, but they're not going to see that. They're gonna look at her as if she's nothing."
I felt him tremble against my tired aching body, as he let out another little cry to himself.
"No they won't Billie. It's ok. She'll be fine. We just need to get her to the hospital." Tre assured him, putting his hand on his shoulder. "The only reason that they will stare will be because of you. Because everyone knows you."
Billie Joe sniffled, looking down on me one final time.
"Oh Tre," he sobbed. "I'm such an arsehole. More than an arsehole. I should have looked after her, kept my promise, loved her like I always said I would and protect her."
"Billie... " Tre started, thinking a little. "You're not stupid. We're all in this together. None of this is your fault. It takes two for love to work. But we've got to get her to the hospital now. Before... Before it's too... Too late."
Billie bit his lip before letting another tear fall. He sounded so much like me now. He nodded slowly, still looking down at me, making me feel a little guilty.
Without saying another word or even he'sitating, he started to walk forward towards the entrance clutching me tightly through the lobby. Tre followed behind, eyeing him carefully as if he was about to snap and crumble to the floor any minute now with me. He strode ahead and led us the way to the car where Mike would be waiting inside of. As we went through the lobby, Billie started to pick up the pace, almost running to the hotel entrance. Tre opened the door for him, looking around to see if there was a great deal of people behind us watching.
A felt a sudden rush of cold air hit my lungs, making me catch my breath quickly and choke. Billie Joe looked down on me, scared at my sudden reaction. He looked about for a vehicle, his eyes darting like fireworks across the parking lot. He just stood there at the top of the steps, holding onto me desperately and powerless to get me to the hospital any quicker. Tre appeared behind us, bounding down the steps and heading off in a direction. Billie watched him head into the parking lot, Tre waving his arm in the air as a signal.
A vehicle appeared around the corner with Mike at the wheel, screeching to a halt at the bottom of the concrete steps. Billie Joe watched as Mike came to a stop in front of him at the bottom of the steps before proceeding to glide down them. Tre ran towards the car and opened up the back door, letting Billie Joe slide in with me sprawled out across his lap. The door shut as the drummer headed around to the passengers seat, hopping in.
"I think she might be able to hold on until we get her to the hospital." Tre puffed from running, looking at Mike and swallowing hard, also ignoring the fact that there was a seat beat.
Billie Joe carefully laid me out across his lap, looking up at Mike and Tre from the back seat worriedly. Mike took into account what Tre had just said, and without even looking back to see how things were coping out with me, drove out of the parking lot.
Billie Joe leaned over my face and stroked my hair, pushing it away from off of my face.
"Shhhhh," he hushed me as I tried to open my mouth to say something. "It's ok. Don't say anything. Don't say anything Stef. It'll all be fine soon. I promise."
He leaned forward and kissed my lips softly again, before looking up to see how far the vehicle was near the hospital.
His words were so comforting to me, but he couldn't feel what was happening to me inside. I could feel myself slowly deteriorating and falling deeper and deeper into nothing. I wanted to tell him that I loved him before it was too late and I couldn't. It hurt so much. I was desperate. If it was the one thing I wanted to do before I died it was that. Nothing else. He had to know how I felt. I would regret everything that had ever happened between us if he didn't get to hear me say those three words to him.
I opened my mouth again, only a quiet grunt of a strain appearing though.
"It'll be ok soon." He told me, clasping hold of my hand again. "Shhh. Don't make yourself worse. It'll be ok, the doctors will take care of you. And they won't judge you. Nobody will. They'll understand. They won't pull faces or say that you were stupid or anything. And then you'll get better, and I'll take care of you forever. Even if it costs me my own life, I won't let you suffer again. Not now, not ever."
He wiped away another tear, eyeliner now fully smudged down his cheeks and the sides of his face. He sniffled, looking at of the window quickly again.
"Come on Mike hurry up!" Tre whined, becoming edgy again as we stood still in a queue of cars and vehicles that had stopped at a red light.
"Tre! I can't!" Mike yelled, hitting the steering wheel. "There's a fucking red light! Don't rush me ok? I'm finding this hard enough already. I'm doing my best."
Tre turned to look out of the front window at the stream of vehicles in front, behind and either side of him. He started to drum against the top of the glove compartment in anticipation, the only other noise from the vehicle being Billie Joe quietly whispering and comforting me. Tre looked back a bit, looking down on me and then at Billie Joe, who was hysterical.
He had never seen the guitarist like this before. He had never been in this situation before. He had never seen someone cut before. It was all something knew for him to grasp. He turned back to find that we still hadn't moved in the line of cars.
"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Tre screamed, putting his hands to his head before leaning over to the other side of the car and Mike to grab hold of the steering wheel.
"Tre! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Mike hollered, his eyes widening and grasping hold of the steering wheel too - causing Billie Joe to look up at them.
Tre desperately tried to steer the car off of the road and past another vehicle, but the strength of Mike seemed too much for him as he clenched his teeth tight. He madly hit the horn in the middle of the wheel, realising that he was loosing battle.
"Tre - No... Stop it... Urrr... Let go... Tre... "
Billie Joe looked away in disbelief, worried that they would forget about why they were on their way to hospital and instead waste time fighting.
"Tre -... " Mike grunted, grabbing hold of the drummers fingers and pulling them off. "Tre... Let go - get off... You're... Mak- making things... Err... Worse... Urrr... "
Billie Joe looked down on me once again, his eyes suddenly filled with terror and anxiety again.
"It'll be ok," he kept telling me, trying to block out the struggle going on between the other two at the wheel so I wouldn't become scared. "It's ok babe. It'll be fine. We're almost there."
He had never called my babe before, but right at this moment it made me feel a little special. But it also made me think that he was saying it because he knew something that I didn't, like I wasn't going to make it and he was trying to make things as painless as he could.
I rolled my eyes to the tops, looking out the window and catching the sight of a highway sign that said 'Highway 186, turn left. Hospital. 1 and a half miles. '
I knew I wasn't going to get there in time. I caught Billie Joe's eyes slowly move over my cuts and slashes and the blood that was still refusing to stop seeping through. He placed his hand over one of my arms, the other still tightly holding onto mine. He pulled back to find his hand smeared in fresh blood. He couldn't stop the bleeding.
Mike managed to pull Tre's grasp off of around the wheel, pushing him slightly back in to his seat at a force. Tre snivelled as he turned away quickly, looking out the window, not wanting to look at Mike and slightly ashamed at himself.
Mike stared down as he gripped a hold of the wheel still, before slowly looking up to look at his friend. Small tears trickled down the drummers face as they glistened in the sunlight that was shining through the window. He put his hand to his forehead to hide his face, closing his eyes and wiping away the tears across his wrist. Mike looked at him, sighing deeply in sadness before leaning forward and putting his hand sympathetically on Tre's shoulder.
"It'll be alright. I'm sorry, ok?" He said softly. "But we've got to keep strong for Stef."
Tre nodded impotently, his eyes still staring down at the floor as the tears fell silently.
Billie Joe squeezed my hand tight, his eyes carefully watching the blood stain the back seats. It was everywhere. All over me, the back of the car and Billie Joe. It looked like we had been in a war zone.
"Stef," he whispered. "I know I've a bastard lately, I know I have. And don't think I won't forget it. I can never forgive myself for what I've done. Never. But I can change. I will. I promise. I'll do it for you. No more lies, or running away. I've done enough to last me a lifetime. But I've realised,... I can't runaway, because it comes back sooner or later. And I never want you to go through this again."
I wanted to tell him that none of it was his fault, and that it was me who had been the bastard in attempting to kill myself and wanting him to suffer. I wanted to tell him that I had been so stupid, and that I never meant to cause any harm, or want it to turn out like this. But somehow I couldn't, not because I was feeling weak, but because I could feel a sudden binding around my chest. I started to gasp for air, my eyes fixating on Billie Joe as he stared at me in sudden terror. This was it I thought.
"Oh shit - No!" He whispered to himself, as I started to heave. "No! No, no, no!"
He leaned forward and cupped his hand around the side of my face, watching me as I looked up at him desperately.
"I - I -... " I gasped, knowing that this would my only chance to try and say that I loved him. "I - I - lo - I... Lo- I... I... Huh... Huh... "
My attempts turned to rasping gasps, nothing coming into my lungs.
"Shit!" Billie screamed, starting to shake madly in horror. "Stef! No! Shit! Stef? Stef! Please... No... No not now... You were doing so well... Stef... Shit... Stef... Stef, STEF!"
He tapped the side of my face lightly to get a response from me, but all I did was slowly close my eyes.
"Stef!" He screamed madly, grasping hold of me, waiting for me to wake up. "Stef! No! She's gone! She's gone, she's gone, she's gone! Oh my god... No! No. Not now... Stef! Stef, babe, please... Come on now... Please... Squeeze my hand for me, squeeze my hand! Don't close your eyes!"
He clenched hold of my hand, hoping I would squeeze it but I didn't. I couldn't. He looked at me, his eyes widening and his heart stopping along the way with mine. Mike looked around to see what Billie was screaming at, suddenly staring at him.
"Oh shit!" He yelled, turning back round and gripping hold of the steering wheel, trying to find a way of how to skip the queue. "No! Not now! Not that we're this close!"
Tre looked about the back seat to see me sprawled across the lap of Billie Joe, more of my blood resting on him then there was on me. The tears started to stream down his face again, not being able to look away from me even if it was too horrible for him to handle. He knew I wasn't going to make it.
"Mike!" He yelled suddenly, the whole boulevard being able to hear him. "Move! Now!"
"I can't!" Mike yelled back, starting to panic because he couldn't move the vehicle at all.
"MIKE! NOW!" Tre screamed, his voice ringing through everyone's ears as he lost all control.
"For fuck's sake!" Mike yelled, yelling at the vehicle in front of him. "MOVE YOU ASSHOLE!"
"Stef! No!" Billie Joe cried, holding onto me and sobbing, as I looked at him dazed one more time, wanting to cry and hold him more than anything in the world. "Not now! Stef, you can't... Please... Stef... I - I... "
"Oh shit, oh shit." Tre gasped, panicking in a hysteric, continuously throwing his fists in the air in front of him, his eyes as wide as saucers as he went on to grip hold of the inside of the door. "Oh shit... "
"Stef, you can't... I won't let... You... Please wake up - please wake up... Please... Please... Do anything... Give me a sign... Please - come on now Stef... Don't leave me - please... Please... Come on babe... Stef... Stef... "
Billie Joe's pleads turned into horrifying sobs, which scared Mike, Tre not being to stand the sound of his best friend watch me die.
"She's not going to make it... " Tre whispered ghostly, panicking still.
"She will." Mike assured him, both of their voices growing fainter and fainter to me as I slipped into nothing.
"She's not going to make it... "
"She will."
"She's not going to make it... "
"She will."
As everything came to a blur around me, the only thing that I could still visualise was the draining face of Billie Joe as he sobbed and cried over me in hysterics like I had never seen him before.
"No," he snivelled. "No, Stef... Please... "
He bowed his head down before looking at me one last time.
"I love you."
And then I blacked out.
* * * * * * *
"Be back here by 2." Tom growled at me, halting the car to a stop.
I gave him an evil look as I heaved out of the passengers seat, dragging my guitar in its case with me. I slammed the door shut and headed off across the car park, not looking back at him or the car I had just hoped out of.
I heard it screech behind me, making me tense up inside as it drove off. I looked down at my wrist at my watch. It was 10 past 1. That gave my 50 minutes to go and get my guitar fixed, buy some credit for my mobile, grab something to eat and pick up my sister's stupid photos from the developing store. I walked over the grit that was covering the floor along with the aftermath of a rain shower.
With my guitar slumped over one shoulder I turned around the corner out of the car park and onto a side road.
Right now I felt like I was the Jesus of Suburbia, or at least living his lifestyle. At the moment I was depending on myself a lot to get things done, but it wasn't as easy as that.
Last night I had stayed up and gone into my sisters room, where me and my 12 year old sister had mucked about, giggling and joking with each other. My half-sister, Katie, daughter to Tom had been lying peacefully in the bed on the other side of the room, oblivious that I was in there and we were making a bit of noise. We had gotten away with it until my mum had been woken up by us mistakenly, getting us into deep shit.
"Come on!" She screeched at me with a cooling patch on her head used to help cure headaches. "Get into your room now!"
She glared at me as I had rolled my eyes.
"It's half past 11!" She added as I walked past.
"No it's not. It's 11."
"In my room it says 11:30, all right?"
"Your clock's fast mum."
"Don't you dare answer me back young lady!" She had yelled at me, pointing at me at a force. "Have some respect for other people! You might not want to sleep but the rest of us want to! Why did you have to go and wake your sister up for?"
I had to hold my tongue as much as I could. "She was already awake mum."
"But Katie was still trying to sleep!"
She always seemed to care about Katie more these days. It was like she ruled the house. She would snap her fingers and mum and Tom would go running to her.
"Just think for once before you decide to go and wake everyone else up near midnight again!"
I had slammed my door behind me before I could hear anymore and explode. I couldn't do anything these days. One minute she was complaining that me and my sisters weren't getting on, the next she's splitting us up because we were being too stupid.
So that's how come I had just been dropped off by Tom to get my guitar fixed. Mum had refused to take me up because of how I had 'answered her back' last night, and she wouldn't let me walk either.
"You're not walking up there. It's too far." She had yelled at me, as I had pleaded with her.
She didn't know how important it was that I got the guitar fixed today. I had been waiting for 4 weeks for it to be mended, and now they could finally make the time to do it for me in the shop.
"Mum, I've walked up there before!"
"Are you arguing with me?!" She snapped, turning around from washing the dishes and glaring me out.
I sheepishly looked down at my feet. I couldn't stand her glare - it always made me feel guilty and in the end admit that I was the one who was in the wrong. When half the time I wasn't.
"I said No." She added, turning back to the soapy sink full of kitchen utensils. "Why should I take you up there after the way you treated me last night? You treat me like a piece of shit you do!"
She had really started to wind me up by this point.
"I'm not going to be your taxi service when - "
I butted in, not being able to stand it anymore. "I didn't say you were my taxi service!"
She ignored me.
"When I tell you to get off the phone you make out to your friends that I'm the wicked mother again! When all I wanted to do was sleep! You never think about other people. It's always you, you, you, you, you! The world does not rotate around you Stephanie! You never put aside yourself to help others! I don't know what's gotten into you but whatever it is, it better stop now!"
She barked madly at me as I shifted my feet against the tiled kitchen floor. My fist tightened as I clenched my teeth as tight as they would go, squeaking slightly under the pressure and force I was putting upon them. I thought that my knuckles my just disconnect from one another.
"I'm not going to put up with this anymore! I'm not going to be your slave when - "
"I didn't say you was my slave alright!" I had screamed at her, finally not being able to restrain myself anymore and running upstairs into my room to cry.
For the rest of that morning I hadn't appeared from outside of my room. I had been lying on my bed staring up at my Green Day poster when Tom had knocked on my door.
"I'm going out. I'll being passing the town on the way though."
In other words mum had told him to take me and my guitar into town before I pulled another stunt like I just had. I knew the routine.
"Hmmm." I mumbled at him, still staring up at Billie Joe, Mike and Tre.
I rolled off of my bed and put my guitar away in its case, slipping on some shoes before sitting at the bottom of the stairs cradling my guitar like it was the only thing left for me in this world.
So that's how come Tom had reluctantly dropped me off, much to his disgust. Now I was heading through the town on my own, towards the only music shop that was around for miles. I walked through the tiny red door, heading into the warmth. I approached the counter, an old aged looking man appearing around the corner and smiling at me.
"Hello." He cheered, walking to behind the counter.
"It's ready." I said bleakly, indicating towards my guitar.
"I was starting to think that you weren't going to come."
I gulped a little, not wanting to think about last night or this morning.
"Yeah, I'm... Erm... Sorry about that." I replied, trying to think of something up on the spot.
"Oh no, it's ok." He told me smiling.
I smiled a little back, watching as he walked around to the front of the counter to stand next to me.
"Let's have a look at it then." He implied, crouching down to take my guitar from its case.
I immediately crouched down to his level and un-zipped the case as far as it would go as the zip was broken and jammed. I stretched my arms out and pulled out my instrument, standing up before handing it over to him.
He smiled again, taking it from me and placing it flat down across the desk. He was always smiling.
"You cut?" He simply said, as if he had just asked me about the weather.
"Um - What?" I queried, not understanding.
"You're arm." He said again, unwinding the strings a little. "It's cut up. Did you do that?"
I he'sitated, not knowing whether to answer or to pretend that I didn't hear him.
"Umm, yeah."
"Umm, yeah what? You DID do it?"
"Yeah." I whispered, not looking him in the eye after there was a slight pause.
"You shouldn't."
He pulled a string out, before tightening it up again to be tested as I rolled my sleeve over my arm.
"I know." I replied.
"Then why do you?"
"Do what?"
"Do it? Cut yourself?"
I really didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't a big deal really. It wasn't even a proper cut. Just a groove that I had made in my arm earlier today with a pair of blunt scissors.
"It was my first time." I told him. "I don't sit and cut myself every time I get upset. It's not even a proper cut. I just put the blunt scissors to my skin. Didn't do much."
He sighed, his shoulders rising in the process as he continued to fiddle with the strings.
"Well, once you've done it, that's the thing. You can't stop. Even if you didn't cut yourself properly. You still tried to hurt yourself didn't you?"
"Sometimes it's better that way." I said quietly, staring at the floor still.
There was another long pause between us, and all that could be heard was someone trying out a bass in the show room next door.
"I don't understand why you would do it." He wondered, by now having pulled off 3 strings.
"Just... Stuff getting the better of me."
"People?"
"Yeah... People." I grumbled, not wanting to admit anything but getting the feeling that I would end up doing just that.
"Friends is it?" He suggested.
"Nah," I sighed heavily. "Don't have many."
"Oh." He stopped, looking up at me. "I'm sure you do."
"Nobody wants to be friends with a Green Day freak."
"You're not a freak." He told me, before I quickly said something else.
"That's what they seem to think anyway."
I shifted my feet as I looked around the tiny shop that was about twice the size of my bedroom.
"They don't know what they're saying." He told me once again, sighing. "People these days just don't understand. Nobody can seem to get along. It's a shame really. It's nice that you like a band."
"Hmmm." I grumbled to myself, thinking.
Nice. It was nice. At least someone thought something positive about it.
"You know," he said, looking up to face me again, leaning on the counter. "You shouldn't cut anymore. It'll just remind you of the terrible time you went through to get that. You'll always have the scar to tell you. A mind can be mended, but a scar can't."
And now thinking back I wish I had listened to him, because now I was lying gone for dead in Billie Joe's arms.
And I never got to tell him that I loved him.
Billie Joe stroked my hand again as he cried down on me, drawing tears from my own eyes too. I closed my eyes for a second in drowsiness and exhaustion.
"Come on, hang in there. Not much longer now. Not much longer."
I re-opened my eyes a little, staring endlessly up at the man I loved. The ONLY man I loved.
"Billie! Billie!" I heard a voice cry from behind the door, growing louder and louder with the plunder of footsteps. "Billie!"
Billie Joe looked at me for a few more seconds, taking in the voice before turning his head in the direction of the noise.
"Tre!" Billie Joe screamed back, returning to look down on me incase I deteriorated suddenly. "Tre!"
He screamed like a madman, the tears still streaming down his face, his eyes a mess and glazed over.
There was another clatter of running footsteps as Tre threw himself against the stairwell door, his face appearing on the other side of the window. He entered the stairwell, panic stricken as he looked down on the both of us. He looked at me lying across his lap at the bottom of the steps, and then slowly at Billie Joe.
"She's going to be ok Tre. She's going to make it." Billie Joe smiled up at him, stroking my hand still but not being able to stop the tears yet. "She squeezed my hand. She squeezed my hand Tre!"
Billie Joe let out a sudden light laugh, becoming excited over the fact that I had been able to communicate with him in some way.
For a few seconds, Tre seemed to stop panicking, and he smiled down on his friend at the news. But he soon remembered to as why he had come suddenly running back.
"Mike's got a car Billie." He told him, as Billie turned back to smile at me. "Mike's got a car. He's waiting outside for us."
Billie Joe continued to look down on me still, before suddenly looking up at Tre and taking in a deep breath.
"Ok," he took in another haul of air. "Ok. Let's get her out of here."
And for the first time in ages, Billie Joe and Tre forgot about their differences and all the nasty words that had been exchanged the previous evening.
Tre walked into the stairwell fully, instead from leaning in through the doorway to help Billie Joe lift me up in his arms. Billie Joe grabbed hold of my sleeves to my hoody that he had rolled up and pulled them down over my arms to hide the cuts and slashes from passers by.
Tre walked towards me, turning white once again. He hadn't seen me up close, and he felt sickened. He hated seeing me like this.
It broke his heart.
"Shit Billie," Tre gawped, looking down on the two of us as he rolled down the sleeve to my left arm. "She got your name done."
He pointed at the tattoo on my arm amongst the blood, slightly taken back as Billie Joe paused, looking into my eyes.
"Yeah." He whispered. "I know."
He bowed his head down as there was a moment's silence between the three of us. Billie Joe proceeded to carry on, grabbing hold of my other sleeve and covering up the tattoo, as well as my deep cuts that were dug into my wrist.
Tre helped to support me as Billie Joe stood up with all the strength he had left, using the wall as a guide. Struggling to stand, as he was so weak, Tre held onto me until he had full support of me in his arms.
"Come on, let's get her to the hospital." Billie Joe grunted, hoisting me up so I was folded up over his arms, heading towards the door.
Tre immediately ran ahead to the door and opened it for Billie to walk through, carrying me. He let us past through before following, standing next to Billie as he stared around the lobby, anxious.
"They're gonna see Tre." He panicked. "They're going to see her, and they're going to think things about her. It's not fair. She's not a bad person. She didn't deserve this. They're gonna look at her like she's a piece of shit. I know she didn't mean to do this Tre, but they're not going to see that. They're gonna look at her as if she's nothing."
I felt him tremble against my tired aching body, as he let out another little cry to himself.
"No they won't Billie. It's ok. She'll be fine. We just need to get her to the hospital." Tre assured him, putting his hand on his shoulder. "The only reason that they will stare will be because of you. Because everyone knows you."
Billie Joe sniffled, looking down on me one final time.
"Oh Tre," he sobbed. "I'm such an arsehole. More than an arsehole. I should have looked after her, kept my promise, loved her like I always said I would and protect her."
"Billie... " Tre started, thinking a little. "You're not stupid. We're all in this together. None of this is your fault. It takes two for love to work. But we've got to get her to the hospital now. Before... Before it's too... Too late."
Billie bit his lip before letting another tear fall. He sounded so much like me now. He nodded slowly, still looking down at me, making me feel a little guilty.
Without saying another word or even he'sitating, he started to walk forward towards the entrance clutching me tightly through the lobby. Tre followed behind, eyeing him carefully as if he was about to snap and crumble to the floor any minute now with me. He strode ahead and led us the way to the car where Mike would be waiting inside of. As we went through the lobby, Billie started to pick up the pace, almost running to the hotel entrance. Tre opened the door for him, looking around to see if there was a great deal of people behind us watching.
A felt a sudden rush of cold air hit my lungs, making me catch my breath quickly and choke. Billie Joe looked down on me, scared at my sudden reaction. He looked about for a vehicle, his eyes darting like fireworks across the parking lot. He just stood there at the top of the steps, holding onto me desperately and powerless to get me to the hospital any quicker. Tre appeared behind us, bounding down the steps and heading off in a direction. Billie watched him head into the parking lot, Tre waving his arm in the air as a signal.
A vehicle appeared around the corner with Mike at the wheel, screeching to a halt at the bottom of the concrete steps. Billie Joe watched as Mike came to a stop in front of him at the bottom of the steps before proceeding to glide down them. Tre ran towards the car and opened up the back door, letting Billie Joe slide in with me sprawled out across his lap. The door shut as the drummer headed around to the passengers seat, hopping in.
"I think she might be able to hold on until we get her to the hospital." Tre puffed from running, looking at Mike and swallowing hard, also ignoring the fact that there was a seat beat.
Billie Joe carefully laid me out across his lap, looking up at Mike and Tre from the back seat worriedly. Mike took into account what Tre had just said, and without even looking back to see how things were coping out with me, drove out of the parking lot.
Billie Joe leaned over my face and stroked my hair, pushing it away from off of my face.
"Shhhhh," he hushed me as I tried to open my mouth to say something. "It's ok. Don't say anything. Don't say anything Stef. It'll all be fine soon. I promise."
He leaned forward and kissed my lips softly again, before looking up to see how far the vehicle was near the hospital.
His words were so comforting to me, but he couldn't feel what was happening to me inside. I could feel myself slowly deteriorating and falling deeper and deeper into nothing. I wanted to tell him that I loved him before it was too late and I couldn't. It hurt so much. I was desperate. If it was the one thing I wanted to do before I died it was that. Nothing else. He had to know how I felt. I would regret everything that had ever happened between us if he didn't get to hear me say those three words to him.
I opened my mouth again, only a quiet grunt of a strain appearing though.
"It'll be ok soon." He told me, clasping hold of my hand again. "Shhh. Don't make yourself worse. It'll be ok, the doctors will take care of you. And they won't judge you. Nobody will. They'll understand. They won't pull faces or say that you were stupid or anything. And then you'll get better, and I'll take care of you forever. Even if it costs me my own life, I won't let you suffer again. Not now, not ever."
He wiped away another tear, eyeliner now fully smudged down his cheeks and the sides of his face. He sniffled, looking at of the window quickly again.
"Come on Mike hurry up!" Tre whined, becoming edgy again as we stood still in a queue of cars and vehicles that had stopped at a red light.
"Tre! I can't!" Mike yelled, hitting the steering wheel. "There's a fucking red light! Don't rush me ok? I'm finding this hard enough already. I'm doing my best."
Tre turned to look out of the front window at the stream of vehicles in front, behind and either side of him. He started to drum against the top of the glove compartment in anticipation, the only other noise from the vehicle being Billie Joe quietly whispering and comforting me. Tre looked back a bit, looking down on me and then at Billie Joe, who was hysterical.
He had never seen the guitarist like this before. He had never been in this situation before. He had never seen someone cut before. It was all something knew for him to grasp. He turned back to find that we still hadn't moved in the line of cars.
"Oh, this is ridiculous!" Tre screamed, putting his hands to his head before leaning over to the other side of the car and Mike to grab hold of the steering wheel.
"Tre! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Mike hollered, his eyes widening and grasping hold of the steering wheel too - causing Billie Joe to look up at them.
Tre desperately tried to steer the car off of the road and past another vehicle, but the strength of Mike seemed too much for him as he clenched his teeth tight. He madly hit the horn in the middle of the wheel, realising that he was loosing battle.
"Tre - No... Stop it... Urrr... Let go... Tre... "
Billie Joe looked away in disbelief, worried that they would forget about why they were on their way to hospital and instead waste time fighting.
"Tre -... " Mike grunted, grabbing hold of the drummers fingers and pulling them off. "Tre... Let go - get off... You're... Mak- making things... Err... Worse... Urrr... "
Billie Joe looked down on me once again, his eyes suddenly filled with terror and anxiety again.
"It'll be ok," he kept telling me, trying to block out the struggle going on between the other two at the wheel so I wouldn't become scared. "It's ok babe. It'll be fine. We're almost there."
He had never called my babe before, but right at this moment it made me feel a little special. But it also made me think that he was saying it because he knew something that I didn't, like I wasn't going to make it and he was trying to make things as painless as he could.
I rolled my eyes to the tops, looking out the window and catching the sight of a highway sign that said 'Highway 186, turn left. Hospital. 1 and a half miles. '
I knew I wasn't going to get there in time. I caught Billie Joe's eyes slowly move over my cuts and slashes and the blood that was still refusing to stop seeping through. He placed his hand over one of my arms, the other still tightly holding onto mine. He pulled back to find his hand smeared in fresh blood. He couldn't stop the bleeding.
Mike managed to pull Tre's grasp off of around the wheel, pushing him slightly back in to his seat at a force. Tre snivelled as he turned away quickly, looking out the window, not wanting to look at Mike and slightly ashamed at himself.
Mike stared down as he gripped a hold of the wheel still, before slowly looking up to look at his friend. Small tears trickled down the drummers face as they glistened in the sunlight that was shining through the window. He put his hand to his forehead to hide his face, closing his eyes and wiping away the tears across his wrist. Mike looked at him, sighing deeply in sadness before leaning forward and putting his hand sympathetically on Tre's shoulder.
"It'll be alright. I'm sorry, ok?" He said softly. "But we've got to keep strong for Stef."
Tre nodded impotently, his eyes still staring down at the floor as the tears fell silently.
Billie Joe squeezed my hand tight, his eyes carefully watching the blood stain the back seats. It was everywhere. All over me, the back of the car and Billie Joe. It looked like we had been in a war zone.
"Stef," he whispered. "I know I've a bastard lately, I know I have. And don't think I won't forget it. I can never forgive myself for what I've done. Never. But I can change. I will. I promise. I'll do it for you. No more lies, or running away. I've done enough to last me a lifetime. But I've realised,... I can't runaway, because it comes back sooner or later. And I never want you to go through this again."
I wanted to tell him that none of it was his fault, and that it was me who had been the bastard in attempting to kill myself and wanting him to suffer. I wanted to tell him that I had been so stupid, and that I never meant to cause any harm, or want it to turn out like this. But somehow I couldn't, not because I was feeling weak, but because I could feel a sudden binding around my chest. I started to gasp for air, my eyes fixating on Billie Joe as he stared at me in sudden terror. This was it I thought.
"Oh shit - No!" He whispered to himself, as I started to heave. "No! No, no, no!"
He leaned forward and cupped his hand around the side of my face, watching me as I looked up at him desperately.
"I - I -... " I gasped, knowing that this would my only chance to try and say that I loved him. "I - I - lo - I... Lo- I... I... Huh... Huh... "
My attempts turned to rasping gasps, nothing coming into my lungs.
"Shit!" Billie screamed, starting to shake madly in horror. "Stef! No! Shit! Stef? Stef! Please... No... No not now... You were doing so well... Stef... Shit... Stef... Stef, STEF!"
He tapped the side of my face lightly to get a response from me, but all I did was slowly close my eyes.
"Stef!" He screamed madly, grasping hold of me, waiting for me to wake up. "Stef! No! She's gone! She's gone, she's gone, she's gone! Oh my god... No! No. Not now... Stef! Stef, babe, please... Come on now... Please... Squeeze my hand for me, squeeze my hand! Don't close your eyes!"
He clenched hold of my hand, hoping I would squeeze it but I didn't. I couldn't. He looked at me, his eyes widening and his heart stopping along the way with mine. Mike looked around to see what Billie was screaming at, suddenly staring at him.
"Oh shit!" He yelled, turning back round and gripping hold of the steering wheel, trying to find a way of how to skip the queue. "No! Not now! Not that we're this close!"
Tre looked about the back seat to see me sprawled across the lap of Billie Joe, more of my blood resting on him then there was on me. The tears started to stream down his face again, not being able to look away from me even if it was too horrible for him to handle. He knew I wasn't going to make it.
"Mike!" He yelled suddenly, the whole boulevard being able to hear him. "Move! Now!"
"I can't!" Mike yelled back, starting to panic because he couldn't move the vehicle at all.
"MIKE! NOW!" Tre screamed, his voice ringing through everyone's ears as he lost all control.
"For fuck's sake!" Mike yelled, yelling at the vehicle in front of him. "MOVE YOU ASSHOLE!"
"Stef! No!" Billie Joe cried, holding onto me and sobbing, as I looked at him dazed one more time, wanting to cry and hold him more than anything in the world. "Not now! Stef, you can't... Please... Stef... I - I... "
"Oh shit, oh shit." Tre gasped, panicking in a hysteric, continuously throwing his fists in the air in front of him, his eyes as wide as saucers as he went on to grip hold of the inside of the door. "Oh shit... "
"Stef, you can't... I won't let... You... Please wake up - please wake up... Please... Please... Do anything... Give me a sign... Please - come on now Stef... Don't leave me - please... Please... Come on babe... Stef... Stef... "
Billie Joe's pleads turned into horrifying sobs, which scared Mike, Tre not being to stand the sound of his best friend watch me die.
"She's not going to make it... " Tre whispered ghostly, panicking still.
"She will." Mike assured him, both of their voices growing fainter and fainter to me as I slipped into nothing.
"She's not going to make it... "
"She will."
"She's not going to make it... "
"She will."
As everything came to a blur around me, the only thing that I could still visualise was the draining face of Billie Joe as he sobbed and cried over me in hysterics like I had never seen him before.
"No," he snivelled. "No, Stef... Please... "
He bowed his head down before looking at me one last time.
"I love you."
And then I blacked out.
* * * * * * *
"Be back here by 2." Tom growled at me, halting the car to a stop.
I gave him an evil look as I heaved out of the passengers seat, dragging my guitar in its case with me. I slammed the door shut and headed off across the car park, not looking back at him or the car I had just hoped out of.
I heard it screech behind me, making me tense up inside as it drove off. I looked down at my wrist at my watch. It was 10 past 1. That gave my 50 minutes to go and get my guitar fixed, buy some credit for my mobile, grab something to eat and pick up my sister's stupid photos from the developing store. I walked over the grit that was covering the floor along with the aftermath of a rain shower.
With my guitar slumped over one shoulder I turned around the corner out of the car park and onto a side road.
Right now I felt like I was the Jesus of Suburbia, or at least living his lifestyle. At the moment I was depending on myself a lot to get things done, but it wasn't as easy as that.
Last night I had stayed up and gone into my sisters room, where me and my 12 year old sister had mucked about, giggling and joking with each other. My half-sister, Katie, daughter to Tom had been lying peacefully in the bed on the other side of the room, oblivious that I was in there and we were making a bit of noise. We had gotten away with it until my mum had been woken up by us mistakenly, getting us into deep shit.
"Come on!" She screeched at me with a cooling patch on her head used to help cure headaches. "Get into your room now!"
She glared at me as I had rolled my eyes.
"It's half past 11!" She added as I walked past.
"No it's not. It's 11."
"In my room it says 11:30, all right?"
"Your clock's fast mum."
"Don't you dare answer me back young lady!" She had yelled at me, pointing at me at a force. "Have some respect for other people! You might not want to sleep but the rest of us want to! Why did you have to go and wake your sister up for?"
I had to hold my tongue as much as I could. "She was already awake mum."
"But Katie was still trying to sleep!"
She always seemed to care about Katie more these days. It was like she ruled the house. She would snap her fingers and mum and Tom would go running to her.
"Just think for once before you decide to go and wake everyone else up near midnight again!"
I had slammed my door behind me before I could hear anymore and explode. I couldn't do anything these days. One minute she was complaining that me and my sisters weren't getting on, the next she's splitting us up because we were being too stupid.
So that's how come I had just been dropped off by Tom to get my guitar fixed. Mum had refused to take me up because of how I had 'answered her back' last night, and she wouldn't let me walk either.
"You're not walking up there. It's too far." She had yelled at me, as I had pleaded with her.
She didn't know how important it was that I got the guitar fixed today. I had been waiting for 4 weeks for it to be mended, and now they could finally make the time to do it for me in the shop.
"Mum, I've walked up there before!"
"Are you arguing with me?!" She snapped, turning around from washing the dishes and glaring me out.
I sheepishly looked down at my feet. I couldn't stand her glare - it always made me feel guilty and in the end admit that I was the one who was in the wrong. When half the time I wasn't.
"I said No." She added, turning back to the soapy sink full of kitchen utensils. "Why should I take you up there after the way you treated me last night? You treat me like a piece of shit you do!"
She had really started to wind me up by this point.
"I'm not going to be your taxi service when - "
I butted in, not being able to stand it anymore. "I didn't say you were my taxi service!"
She ignored me.
"When I tell you to get off the phone you make out to your friends that I'm the wicked mother again! When all I wanted to do was sleep! You never think about other people. It's always you, you, you, you, you! The world does not rotate around you Stephanie! You never put aside yourself to help others! I don't know what's gotten into you but whatever it is, it better stop now!"
She barked madly at me as I shifted my feet against the tiled kitchen floor. My fist tightened as I clenched my teeth as tight as they would go, squeaking slightly under the pressure and force I was putting upon them. I thought that my knuckles my just disconnect from one another.
"I'm not going to put up with this anymore! I'm not going to be your slave when - "
"I didn't say you was my slave alright!" I had screamed at her, finally not being able to restrain myself anymore and running upstairs into my room to cry.
For the rest of that morning I hadn't appeared from outside of my room. I had been lying on my bed staring up at my Green Day poster when Tom had knocked on my door.
"I'm going out. I'll being passing the town on the way though."
In other words mum had told him to take me and my guitar into town before I pulled another stunt like I just had. I knew the routine.
"Hmmm." I mumbled at him, still staring up at Billie Joe, Mike and Tre.
I rolled off of my bed and put my guitar away in its case, slipping on some shoes before sitting at the bottom of the stairs cradling my guitar like it was the only thing left for me in this world.
So that's how come Tom had reluctantly dropped me off, much to his disgust. Now I was heading through the town on my own, towards the only music shop that was around for miles. I walked through the tiny red door, heading into the warmth. I approached the counter, an old aged looking man appearing around the corner and smiling at me.
"Hello." He cheered, walking to behind the counter.
"It's ready." I said bleakly, indicating towards my guitar.
"I was starting to think that you weren't going to come."
I gulped a little, not wanting to think about last night or this morning.
"Yeah, I'm... Erm... Sorry about that." I replied, trying to think of something up on the spot.
"Oh no, it's ok." He told me smiling.
I smiled a little back, watching as he walked around to the front of the counter to stand next to me.
"Let's have a look at it then." He implied, crouching down to take my guitar from its case.
I immediately crouched down to his level and un-zipped the case as far as it would go as the zip was broken and jammed. I stretched my arms out and pulled out my instrument, standing up before handing it over to him.
He smiled again, taking it from me and placing it flat down across the desk. He was always smiling.
"You cut?" He simply said, as if he had just asked me about the weather.
"Um - What?" I queried, not understanding.
"You're arm." He said again, unwinding the strings a little. "It's cut up. Did you do that?"
I he'sitated, not knowing whether to answer or to pretend that I didn't hear him.
"Umm, yeah."
"Umm, yeah what? You DID do it?"
"Yeah." I whispered, not looking him in the eye after there was a slight pause.
"You shouldn't."
He pulled a string out, before tightening it up again to be tested as I rolled my sleeve over my arm.
"I know." I replied.
"Then why do you?"
"Do what?"
"Do it? Cut yourself?"
I really didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't a big deal really. It wasn't even a proper cut. Just a groove that I had made in my arm earlier today with a pair of blunt scissors.
"It was my first time." I told him. "I don't sit and cut myself every time I get upset. It's not even a proper cut. I just put the blunt scissors to my skin. Didn't do much."
He sighed, his shoulders rising in the process as he continued to fiddle with the strings.
"Well, once you've done it, that's the thing. You can't stop. Even if you didn't cut yourself properly. You still tried to hurt yourself didn't you?"
"Sometimes it's better that way." I said quietly, staring at the floor still.
There was another long pause between us, and all that could be heard was someone trying out a bass in the show room next door.
"I don't understand why you would do it." He wondered, by now having pulled off 3 strings.
"Just... Stuff getting the better of me."
"People?"
"Yeah... People." I grumbled, not wanting to admit anything but getting the feeling that I would end up doing just that.
"Friends is it?" He suggested.
"Nah," I sighed heavily. "Don't have many."
"Oh." He stopped, looking up at me. "I'm sure you do."
"Nobody wants to be friends with a Green Day freak."
"You're not a freak." He told me, before I quickly said something else.
"That's what they seem to think anyway."
I shifted my feet as I looked around the tiny shop that was about twice the size of my bedroom.
"They don't know what they're saying." He told me once again, sighing. "People these days just don't understand. Nobody can seem to get along. It's a shame really. It's nice that you like a band."
"Hmmm." I grumbled to myself, thinking.
Nice. It was nice. At least someone thought something positive about it.
"You know," he said, looking up to face me again, leaning on the counter. "You shouldn't cut anymore. It'll just remind you of the terrible time you went through to get that. You'll always have the scar to tell you. A mind can be mended, but a scar can't."
And now thinking back I wish I had listened to him, because now I was lying gone for dead in Billie Joe's arms.
And I never got to tell him that I loved him.
