PULLING TEETH {Billie Joe Armstrong)

🖤 Ten 🖤

Courtney's p.o.v

She had smudged makeup under her eyes, making her look a bit like a racoon. Her hair looked like she'd stood at the top of a hill on a windy day. She looked like a fucking mess.

Who, you ask? My reflection.

I let out a groan and flopped onto my bed. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

Then I remembered Baz, his drunk driving the night before.

I gasped, sat up, and crawled across my bed to reach my phone. I frantically punched in Baz's number.

Let him be okay, let him be okay I thought as I waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?". My stomach began to twist when I heard his mom's voice.

"Hi, it's Courtney. Is Baz there? Did he make it home last night?" I asked.

I heard his mom sigh. "No," she replied, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. "No, he didn't. He got into a crash and he's in the hospital.".

"Oh no…".

"You were with him last night, weren't you?".

"Yeah.".

"Why did you let him drive drunk!? He could've died!".

"I don't know!" I sobbed. "I was drunk, too!".

I could hear Baz's mom crying. "This is your fault!".

"I told him not to drive! I told him not to, but he didn't listen!".

I heard the phone hang up.

"Fuck!" I screamed, letting the phone drop out of my hand and hit the floor. I started sobbing uncontrollably, knowing that Baz might die.

Guilt set into me as tears flowed out of me. I stood up and went over to my dresser, opening the drawer and pulling out my blade.

I cut deep into my wrist and watched the blood gush out. I thought I deserved it.

I fell to my knees, making another slit in my wrist. A lot of blood and tears flowed that day. 

                               ***

The day after, I called all of the hospitals around the city in order to figure out where Baz was.

When I finally did, I contemplated going to the hospital to visit him. I decided I should, because I might not get another chance.

I threw on a sweater, grabbed my purse and took the train to the hospital.

As I walked through the doors, I felt super guilty, because I knew the reason Baz was there was me.

I went up to the reception desk and the receptionist looked at me with disgust.
"How can I help you?" she asked, adjusting her glasses.

"What room is Baz Sommers in?" I asked.

She looked at her computer screen. "Room 172.".

"Thanks.".

I found room 172. When I looked inside the room, I just saw all sorts of machines in there, and I felt very scared.

I slowly walked in, and I could see Baz with a mask to help him breathe. His eyes were closed, and he had an awful scar from his left eyebrow all the way down to his neck.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, tears forming in my eyes. If I could've just convinced him not to drive, taken his keys, anything, this wouldn't've happened. "I'm so sorry, Baz.".