PULLING TEETH {Billie Joe Armstrong)

🖤 Four 🖤

My day began like it usually did, and played out like it usually did. I woke up and had a shower, then I went downtown and met Baz under the bridge, where we did heroin.

We were running off the stuff for hours. By the time I went home, I wasn't completely sober.

I scratched my face as I walked to the train station, my head down. I never wanted anyone to see how broken I was inside.

I rode the train home and made it back by sunset. My mom had made dinner, and my dad was there, too.

I sat down at the table, not even acknowledging their presence.

"Courtney." My mom said, breaking the silence.

I looked up at her.

"Where'd you go today?" she asked.

"That's nunna yer business." I said, going back to my dinner.

"Your mom asked you a fucking question, fucking answer her!" My dad shouted.

I sighed. "Jesus christ, you don't have to get so mad. You guys don't give a damn what I do. You never have, so why start now?".

My dad stood up and grabbed my wrist, yanking me out of my chair.

"Hey, no!" I shrieked as he dragged me up the stairs and into his room.

"Don't do this, please!" I begged as he took out his belt from his closet.

"Shut your mouth, you little slut." my dad told me.

He stood in front of me and whipped me across my breasts a few times. Then he shoved me out of his room and told me to go to mine. So I did.

I looked in my mirror and noticed a scar on my face.

"Oh shit." I gasped, tracing it with my finger. I knew what it was from. It was from me scratching at my face while I was on heroin.

I started to cry. I was becoming ugly and starting to look like the addict I was.

I took off my sweater and grabbed my blade from inside my drawer. I held it to my skin, my hands trembling.

I remembered that Billie had called me "Mike Dirnt 2.0". But did it matter that I was good at bass if I was a heroin addict? No. I went ahead and cut myself, then cried myself to sleep.

***

I woke up and wanted to stay in bed all day. I saw no reason to get out of bed.

I looked out the window, realizing I forgot to close the curtains. Then I looked down at myself, realizing I was only wearing a bra and underwear. I must now have been sober quite yet when I got home. If I was, I wouldn't have been so forgetful.

I stood up and looked in the mirror. My makeup was a mess from crying the night before, and I looked like I had been to hell and back.

I laid in bed again, not wanting to face the stupid world. I knew I shouldn't go and do heroin; it would only make it worse.

All I could think about was watching the river flow under the bridge and doing heroin.

I stood up from my bed and stretched.
It took me a second to realize that Billie was in his bedroom, too. He was staring right at me. And I was almost naked.

I ran into my bathroom, really embarrassed. I really hoped that things wouldn't be awkward between us now because of that.

I started the shower, and all I could think about was how stupid I was. Closing the curtains was just a simple thing, and even if I wasn't completely sober, I still should've remembered.

Before I knew it I was showered, dressed, and heading downtown with my purse full of heroin. It was just instinct at this point.