Like a Throbbing Toothache of the Mind., chapter 1

***Main P.O.V***
'I don't care anymore. I deserve to die, and when I do, no one will miss me.'
'So why don't I kill myself already.' A young teenager with brownish red hair sat quietly in his room. His bright green eyes were focused on the cuts on his wrists, which had bled, healed, bled and healed for many months. The house was silent, apart from the occasional movement in the room next door to his. That's where his mum, Ollie, and Brad slept. Brad. Brad was nothing more than a stupid prick, who decided he could hurt Billie, abuse him. With anything he could find. This usually consisted of a knife, his own fists or anything in his reach. The boy's name was Billie Joe Armstrong, age seventeen, deeply depressed and had a nick name of 'Two Dollar Bill.' His best friend was Mike Dirnt and they had a band called 'Sweet Children' which consisted of the crazy drummer, Tre Cool. And for now, Billie's pain was draining through his wrists. Silently he stood up and walked quietly towards his door. He opened it and left it open as he made his way down the stairs. The open door revealed many pieces of paper which where letters to his dad. But his dad never read them, because his dad was dead, and nothing could ever change that. He opened the front door and closed it behind him and began to walk up the street. As he neared his destination, Mike's house, he opened his fist to reveal a sharp blade. He clenched his fist again and crouched down to find a stone to throw at Mike's window. He did so and a few moments later the curtains opened to reveal a half-naked, sleepy Mike who was scratching his head and squinting his eyes. He yawned and moved away from the window and went downstairs to his door. He had an angry look on his face and didn't realise Billie's distress.

"Dude! It's fucking 3am in the morning! What do you want?"
Billie clenched the blade in his fist and shifted a little uncomfortably before it cut into his skin. New tears sprang to his eyes and slipped down his cheeks to the ground.

"Oh."Mike said quietly and carefully took the blade from Billie's hands. He put his arm around his best friend and looked at him.

"I can't go on anymore, Mike."
Billie managed to squeak through a choked voice as he looked at his shoes.

"Don't be like that, Billie. You'll be fine in a few weeks. You always are it's just a tough time, that's all."

"Three weeks might be too long. I could do it, Mike, I really could, and not even you could stop me."
Mike had a hurt expression. He couldn't imagine a day without Billie being there by his side. They had been best friends, since, like, ever. Mike blinked and wiped Billie's tears away and decided not to go back to there old conversation.

"You want to crash here tonight?"
Billie nodded but didn't follow Mike inside.

"I need to go for a walk, ease the pain. Can I have my blade back, please?"
Sighing Mike handed the blade back to him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Billie Joe Armstrong."

"I won't, yet."
Mike smiled and patted Billie on the shoulder before he made his way back down the street. Billie had, had a bad life; this was the only way Billie could take the pain away without killing himself. That's the short way of explaining why he gave the blade back to him. Watching as Billie walked up the street to the park; Mike scratched his head then let his arm drop before retreating back into his house.

***Billie's P.O.V***
I could feel Mike watching me as I walked towards the park. I don't understand why Mike is still friends with me; he always seems to be looking after my sorry butt when he could be out having fun. Sighing I made my way back into the park and felt myself fighting the urge to cry again. The park seemed to be deserted as I made my way towards the bench in front of the lake. I sat down slowly and sat back into it, fingering the razorblade in my hand; I sat up and brushed it along my skin. Blood rose to the surface but the skin didn't break, so I pushed a little harder and a small slit appeared on my wrist, blood filled the gap and spilled over, running down my arm and dripping onto the ground. Sighing, I dug a little deeper and followed the blade around my wrist until I had a ring around it. I did it again around a centimetre away from the other one and sat staring at the lake. I didn't realise the blood which dripped onto my black pants. Looking back at my arm I made a few smaller slits up my arm and smiled satisfied. It was a weird feeling, it didn't hurt, it was just something to do, I suppose, but no one knew how much pain there was inside. Some people might just think I'm weak, but I've had a harder life then most know. I stood up slowly and began to make my way back to Mike's, as I did so I ran into some drunken idiots, who wanted to make my life harder. If that's possible. I stumbled and tripped as a large man pushed me into a tree. Another screamed something in my ear but I couldn't really understand what he was saying and I wasn't really listening, so the guy punched me in the jaw. A sharp pain ran through my head as I hit the tree again. Blood trickled down my slit lip and I slumped to the floor. One of them kicked me in the ribs before they walked off laughing. I moaned pushing myself up into a standing position. I pulled up my top and saw myself staring at my bruised ribs. I couldn't take it anymore; things were going from bad to worse, without me even doing anything. New tears spilled down my face and anger welled up inside me, also a pathetic feeling of giving up. I began to trudge slowly towards Mike's, I didn't bother throwing a stone at his window, I couldn't be bothered. I knocked on the door, leaning on it until Mike opened it and then I just fell forward. My mind felt like shutting down completely and I could feel Mike panicking. I had fallen flat on my face and that just added to my problems. I moaned loudly and pushed myself up into a sitting position, more tears spilling down my face. I made a choking noise, I could really give up now and I wanted to give up. Mike crouched down next to me and frowned; he could see my slit lip but knew I didn't do it.

"What happened?"
I moaned again and leant back against the wall, I didn't want to listen, or talk at the moment. Mike raised an eyebrow and shook me. I moaned and looked at him.

"Drunks."
I muttered and coughed again, there were sharp pains running through my ribs. I coughed and ran outside and puked, to anyone nearby they would have thought I was drunk. I fell to my knees and Mike passed me a towel, I wiped my mouth and stood up.

"What is wrong with you, Billie?"
I heard Mike say but I felt like sleeping, badly. I shrugged and my eyes fluttered closed before I forced myself awake.

"Can we sleep now?"
I said in a squeaky voice. Mike laughing slightly and closed the door, helping me up the stairs to his room. He lay down on the makeshift bed on the floor; he must've made it when I was in the park. I dropped down onto his bed and leant back. I almost drifted off to sleep before Mike started talking.

"Does it help, doing that?"
I shrugged, I knew the answer. It didn't, but the mental pain was worse than the physical, so I covered the mental with a physical one, but it didn't hurt anymore so I needed something new. I opened my eyes, which were usually so bright but now were dull from the events. Mike could see the answer in my eyes so he just sighed and closed his eyes, going to sleep. I shifted and went sleep, expecting a nice, warm feeling and dream filled sleep. Could I be more wrong? I tossed and turned like hell and when Mike began to try and wake me up it felt like I had been asleep for around a minute. He shook my shoulder, but I didn't move. Instead I moaned and rolled over and landed flat on my face on the floor. Ouch. I moaned louder and began to sleep on the floor where I had landed, hugging an imaginary pillow. Mike shook me harder and I opened my eyes.

"Come on! Wake up, sleepyhead."
He thought calling me this was funny and started laughing. I ignored him and began to sleep until he chucked water all over my head.

"Ughhh. Mnnmmm, what are you fuckin' doin'?"
I yelled and sat up.

"Trying to wake you up, it seems this works."
I stood up; I couldn't be bothered to do anything.

"Are you staying for breakfast? Or are you goin' home?"
Mike asked me as we headed down stairs, my dripping hair going down my back. I hit Mike round the back of the head for doing it to me, a bit late but I wasn't really thinking earlier.

"What was that for?"

"Chucking water over me."
I said triumphantly and then realised his question.

"Why are you asking me that? You already know the answer."

"Right, well, I'll go make summin'. Whaddaya want?"

"Anything."
I said as my stomach rumbled, I sat myself on the couch and stared at my wrists. "

"How am I gonna explain that one to Brad?"
I said as I realised the rings, I'd never thought of that before, and Brad usually hit me when I cut myself. I moaned and leant back against the sofa as I thought about what would happen today. They weren't good. I heard a knock at the door and went to answer it, I didn't even think if it would be Brad. Too late. I opened it and Brad saw me, he shouted something and grabbed my arm. I yelped and Mike ran into the hallway to see me being pulled down the street by Brad.

"What the fuck are you doin, man!?"
I screamed at Brad, he hit me round the head so I'd shut up, but I struggled even more, but to no use. When we finally got home brad punched me round, my already injured jaw and kicked my in the ribs so I fell to my knees. I cried out and held my wounded ribs, why was he so mad? I don't even know why I even thought that question. Brad went upstairs, I would've tried to get away, but the pain in my ribs were unbearable. He came back with some knuckle dusters. My eyes widened.

"What the fuck-"
I was about to say until Brad hit me round the face with them. I yelped and began to cry. 'Why is he doing this to me?' I was about to call for my mum, but I knew she wasn't here. Brad held me up and punched me in the chest and the ribs.

"That'll teach you for running at the house in the middle of the night! Now get fuckin' upstairs!"
He was about to let go of me when he saw my wrists. He grabbed hold of arm and twisted it painfully. It felt like it was going to snap. I clenched my teeth together and had to move closer to him so it didn't break in two.

"You ungrateful little bitch! Your mum and I do so much for you! This is how you repay us?!"
I think he sprained my wrist. Whatever he did he twisted a little further and I felt the muscle in my arm sort of ping. I cried out and Brad let go pushing me up the stairs. He kicked me into my room and slammed the door shut, I heard him storm downstairs. I looked at my bed to see all my letters gone.

"Where the fuck are they?!"
I screamed down to Brad. I began to pack my backpack, Brad had gone too far, and I could hardly move my arm. I chucked the little money I had in it, some food I'd hidden away and then I looked in the mirror. My lip was bleeding again and I had two cuts on my forehead. My eye was bruised and it was starting to swell up. I sighed and lifted my top up, my ribs were bleeding and were a deep purple colour. I moaned and then realised Brad was coming up the stairs.

"Oh shit!"
I whispered and grabbed a jacket, a few spare clothes and then opened my window. Brad stumbled in, and had what looked like a beer in his hands. I looked out the window and jumped out, I landed heavily on the ground and rolled a little to break the fall. Brad started screaming stuff at me but I just ran down the street. I couldn't go to Mike's, that would be the first place he checked, wouldn't it?
There's things I would never tell you, but you wonder why I don't. I wanted to say 'I love you mum' but I couldn't. I want to see my dad again, that'll never happen, and I want Brad to leave. But I don't think that'll happen either. So I guess, I'll leave. There's no easy way to say this. I'm already gone while you're reading this letter and I'm not coming back. I might be big one day with my band, maybe that's when you'll see me again. I'm not sorry for what I'm doing,
Billie Joe

I posted the letter through the front door, hoping Brad wouldn't pick it up. I'll probably find out sooner or later. I sighed and walked past Mike's house, I heard his front door open and turned to see Mike walking out. I don't think he noticed me until he looked up and recognised me. He ran over and smiled, I didn't. He must've seen the state I was in, which he couldn't really miss. I winced slightly as I stood a little taller, my ribs hurting me. I think he saw some bruising because he lifted my shirt and raised an eyebrow.
"Holy fuck!"
He dropped my shirt and I just snorted. 'Yeah holy fuck, who gives a shit.' I continued to walk and Mike followed me.

"Hey did Brad do that to you?"
I shrugged and sat down on some ones wall and kicked my legs. I really couldn't be dealing with any of this shit. Any of it. I was in a state of deep depression, I don't even think Mike understood. I just stared at my feet until Mike said something.

"Where are you gonna go?"
I flinched slightly and looked up at him.

"I don't know."
I mumbled quietly, I hadn't thought this through. I shifted a little uncomfortably as Mike raised an eyebrow and patted me on the shoulder.

"My dad w-"
Oh my god. What did I just say? Dad? I meant Brad. Dad's... dead. I felt tears prickle my eyes and an overwhelming sadness rushed over me. I looked at the floor and bit my bottom lip to stop it form wobbling. I left my backpack on the floor and jumped off the wall and started to run. Mike called me but he didn't come after me, I don't think he did. I felt the tears being dragged down my face and then drying as the wind swept across my cheeks. I turned a corner and found myself in the park. I ran towards the lake and sat on the bench, exhausted. What happens now...?