Stay With Me | Billie Eilish

Chapter Two: Met

I remember the first time I saw her on a Friday night.

"Hey! Stop her!" one of the police officers who was chasing after me yelled.

With force I tried to pick up my pace, though I felt a sharp pain in my chest that was holding me back. One of my hands tightly clutched the packet of ramen I had stolen from the small corner store, my other one held the strap of my cross body bag to stop it from swinging back and forth.

I made a turn down the street but I was still able to hear them shouting behind me.

Everything was flashing.

My legs led me to a brick apartment complex for a place to hide.

As my hands desperately opened the doors, I looked back. Their flashlights peeked through the trees before I shut the door after me completely.

Finally I was able to catch my breath whilst figure out what to do next.

I looked up the staircase, beginning to run up.

By the third floor my heart was beating so fast I could almost feel it in my throat.

"Fuck!" I heavily breathed out.

Around me were three brown, wooden doors surrounding me. Each had a number.

My muscles were in pain.

A sign of withdrawal.

I remember being terrified and alarmed about my need for a shelter.

Billie was getting ready for bed, standing by her kitchen sink and swallowing the last sips of her water that was accompanied with her medication.

When I practically pounded on her door, her brows furrowed together in disorientation.

I can't even imagine what she must've thought.

With the back of her palm she wiped her mouth, mind trying to rush through all of the possible people that I could've been.

She set the glass cup down onto the counter and hesitantly walked up to the door. Her whole body jumped a bit when I knocked once more out of desperation.

I heard the locks being unlocked and there she was.

A thin, a very thin, fragile girl with a hard exterior and long, black hair. Bangs covered her forehead. With skin so pale like the daytime and with rings under her eyes so dark like the nighttime. Blue eyes that were lifeless. Her face was sunken with cheekbones so prominent that it seemed like she was evaporating. Malnourished even. Her body was covered up with an oversized, black t-shirt, matching basketball shorts and socks.

As her right hand held onto the edge of her door, her eyes examined me.

My blonde, unbrushed hair. My khaki jacket that was unzipped and revealed my shirt and some of the necklaces I had stolen from a few stores.

At the time I didn't know that all she really paid attention to was my body to take mental notes of all of the things she still had to change about herself.

"Yeah?" finally the silence was broken.

"Yo, can I please like crash here? I stole a packet of ramen and the cops are after me."