Photograph

Twelve

BILLIE'S POV

Well, turns out I'm having a random ass foot surgery when I wake up tomorrow.

Mom had helped me change into those stupid fucking itchy hospital rag dress hybrid things that just felt like a big paper towel that hugged my body, and she would chuckle at each stupid remark I had when she was pulling it onto me.

Soon enough, I was left alone in a stiff single bed in a pale ass room that smelled of gasoline and a bright purple foot that twinged with pain.

Perfect.

Just how I totally wanted to spend my last night in Miami.

Not.

My phone was somewhere probably shattered in the hotel room me and Alex shared, and Alex wasn't even here to hold my hand. Or do that cute thumb stroke thing which gave me constant butterflies. She was outside of the room, crying into Katie's arms. All I wanted to do was to hold her and tell her that shit was gonna be okay, but I couldn't because I was too busy telling myself that shit wasn't gonna be okay.

Well, that's the last thing I remembered. Her sobs did die down, and I'm pretty sure they're back at the hotel getting ready for another show or something.

Another show I couldn't fucking do.

So.

It was just me.

Alone.

No food or people.

No beans.

No civilisation.

Just me and my broken foot.

Me and my broken foot.

Billie Eilish in a hospital bed all alone with a small and chipped TV with a faded picture and non stop buffering of an old sitcom that was playing, dangling on the wall on the other side of the room, barely even grazing over the sound of the monitors beeping away and echoing through the thin walls from other hospital patients getting treated. Just where she wanted to be. Just what she wanted. Totally.

I could think about shit to pass the time, right?

I mean, it's my life, of course this was gonna happen to me.

What could I do other than just sit in this bed and try and force the pain away by blinking at my foot like I can control it and somehow fucking make the purple painted skin around it go back to it's original colour?

I hate drowning in my own thoughts, because I could spiral. But, spiralling is really fun because it feels like I'm going into another dimension where I'm not famous or falling in love with someone from my tour team and it's just me and my brain convincing me that I can do anything and be anything while also being nothing and pointless and I don't exist and I never did exist and nothing matters.

Nothing matters.

Everything matters.

"Did you just say you were falling in love with one of your tour team members?" A soft voice pulled my out of my thoughts.

Maybe it was me.

Maybe I said that.

Maybe my spiralling had already started, and I'm not even here.

Maybe I was asleep.

See why I asked that?

When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?