Silenced

Chapter 9

Later that night, Billie Joe slowly crawled over to his bathroom that connected to his room. It was dark by then, maybe around midnight. He knew he wasn't going to sleep that night. What if Steve tried to get to him while he was sleeping?

Once on the cold tile floor of his bathroom, Billie stood on wobbly knees as he turned to close and lock the door behind him. Billie flicked on the bright fluorescent lights of his dirty bathroom. He didn't look at himself in the mirror. Hell, he hadn't in days.

Billie Joe shuffled over to the toilet and propped himself on it. He brought his bony knees to his chest as he leaned on the back of the toilet seat. A terrified chill went up his spine.

He had sat in the dark on his bedroom floor for two hours, listening silently to every movement that Steve made downstairs. If he sounded like he was getting too close for Billie's liking, Billie Joe would check to make sure the door was locked and then he leaned against it even harder. He must've checked dozens of times. His neck was sore.

Billie laid his head on his clothed knees, shaking himself and the toilet with his trembling. Fear creeped on the back of his neck, causing hairs to stand up and burning memories to roast through his chest. What Steve did shouldn't have happened.

But how would Billie Joe ever tell anyone? He never talked in the first place, and if he did then he would be killed by Steve himself. There was no way Billie was telling anyone about his stepfather any time soon, maybe even ever.

Billie Joe's chest ached as his head perked up with a thought. He moved his violated body from the toilet and to the wooden drawer that ran through his kitchen sink.

Panicky hands reached for the drawer and pulled it open. It revealed toothpaste, toothbrushes, deodorant, hand soap, but most importantly, the one thing Billie was looking for, a razor.

Billie Joe pinched the small metal object in between his fingers. He brought the shiny metal to his eyes and stared at it closely, looking for some kind of conclusiveness in it. He found none, only seeing the light that reflected off the sharp surface.

Billie had gotten this razor years ago when his mom told him Steve was moving in. He had gotten it secretively, expecting to use it the same night he was told those life changing words. Literally. Billie's life before Steve was like one of a king.

He had planned to use it out of anger. Frustration. Bitterness. Billie Joe didn't want Steve to live with him. He was angry at that. Angry at his mom. Angry at his life. Needless to say, he decided not to send the thin metal through his innocent skin that night. He had chickened out, claiming that doing it out of anger would only lead to regret.

Billie tucked it away in his bathroom drawer, saving it for a time when he really needed it. A time he really needed pain. And in that moment, the moment that the razor was once again held between his small fingers, was the perfect moment for pain. The moment that Billie Joe desperately needed it. Needed pain. He wanted to feel something again. Recently he had been so numb, beaten senseless into thinking that emotions were pointless. What was the point of emotions if the source of them would never go away?

He squeezed the razor in between his hands, feeling pleasure from the slight pinch that came from the corners of them. His abuse was a barrier, even to pain. Not pain that was put upon him by Steve, but emotional pain that he needed to put upon himself.

The sadness that had taken over Billie Joe's body lately was enough to lead him to this scenario. He was severely depressed. He would've never imagined himself eagerly looking at a razor before his dad died. All was good in the world. No, stop thinking about your dad, Billie Joe. Your mother said to never bring it up again. What's done is done.

Billie imagined that the words the he had kept bottled up in him would pour out of his skin rather than blood, for he felt them pumping through his veins. They only way to let them escape was with a razor cutting deeply into his skin where the shy words lied. Otherwise they would only get bigger, making it harder for Billie Joe to forget about them.

The cold metal was finally brought to Billie's smooth, unscarred wrist. He watched his skin intensely, knowing it was the last time he would see it in such a good condition. Knowing that he was the one that chose to make that decision.

He pushed the razor closer to his skin as he felt the long awaited words run through his veins. Let them out. Let them escape. They need to breathe.

Billie wasn't scared. In fact, he felt at peace, preparing to drag the razor through his skin. All he need to do was give it a little push, causing the metal to cut through his skin cells and leave a noticeably perfect line-

"Billie Joe?"

Billie jumped at his mother's call as a soft knock on his bathroom door followed. His body leapt ten feet in the air, causing the razor to leave Billie Joe's finger tips and land on the tile floor before he could even make the slightest cut.

Billie didn't answer and only crouched down on the floor, putting his head in his hands. He started to shake at what he just attempted to do, and how close he was to accomplishing it. His mother came at the perfect time. What was he thinking?

"Billie Joe Armstrong, I know you're in there," Billie's mother said, knocking on the door again.

Billie Joe once again ignored his mother's words and he started to ball his fists up. He was ashamed with himself.

"Steve told me you were acting up. He said you were trying to sneak out," Billie Joe's mother, Ollie, explained.

The dark curls that belonged to the frightened and anxious teenager shook as Billie shook his head in disbelief. Belief? Yes, belief. He could definitely imagine Steve doing such a cruel thing.

"Are you okay in there?" Ollie asked, now starting to get concerned about  her sons's unresponsive actions.

Billie Joe yet again didn't even bother to tell his mother yes. Instead, he stood to his feet and walked over to the shower. He turned it on until it was on hot all the way. He hoped that his mother got the hint that he was "taking a shower."

He heard his mom sigh in defeat before walking away, taking small steps because of her short legs. Billie waited until he couldn't hear his mother even the slightest bit.

Billie Joe didn't even take his clothes off before stepping into the scorching water. His pants and shirt were immediately soaked by steamy hotness that came from the shower head above him. Billie slowly sat down in the shower, his back facing the burning hot water.

Billie shivered, despite the boiling water that trickled down his back. He felt colder than ever in his thoughts. Colder than ever as he thought back to what he went through that day. Nothing could compare.

He wanted so badly to wash away the shame that Steve had made him feel from his seductive actions towards a small, helpless teen, but he was too scared to move. Too scared to tell. Too scared to be safe.

Billie sat in the shower until the water went cold, feeling like ice on his back. Even after that Billie Joe didn't move.

That's how he stayed the rest of the night.