Silenced

Chapter 14

Billie Joe jogged halfway back to his house, hoping on getting there before Steve woke up. He knew his mom already left for work, so that only meant that he had a better chance of having his curly locks be smashed into the wall with no regret. No concern.

Sweat soaked his shirt and his heart raced with wheezy gasps as Billie finally made it to his home. The small blue house was in sight just as the birds started chirping. Billie Joe didn't have time to see the time of day before he left Mike's house, but he estimated that it was around 8:30.

Billie darted out of Mike's house in the blink of an eye. Billie regretted a lot of things, but telling Mike about Steve might be the worse. Now Mike wanted Billie Joe to get help. Technically, that wasn't exactly an option for Billie. He would be killed if he dared to tell, so he hoped that Mike won't ever bring it up again. Oh god. Why did he tell Mike? What was he thinking? Mike doesn't understand.

A shiver went through Billie Joe's body as he approached the front door, the regret taking over his physical actions. He felt like he was going to vomit.

As soon as Billie opened the door to his house, his nose was met with no other than the painfully strong sent of alcohol and cigarettes. Billie Joe didn't even have to go into the living room to know that Steve was passed out on the couch, him being the source of the smell. He wondered why his mother never cared that the sent of their house was so trashy. He wondered if she even noticed.

Even though Steve was sure to be asleep for another good two hours, Billie tiptoed up the stairs. He made sure to skip all the creaky steps, learning the pattern from being so paranoid of being noticed by Steve.

Billie Joe was more than thankful when he got to the familiar sent of his room. Well, actually to him, his room didn't smell like anything, but it was better than it smelling like poisonous liquid and chemical filled puffs of air.

His room was dim, dark even though the sun shined bright over the horizon from the clear sky sunrise. Billie wasn't surprised to see the dimness. His room always felt darker, lonelier, full of bitterness and confusion.

In fact, he hated his room. He hated the paint of a faded blue that covered his walls. He hated the constantly unmade bed that was pushed into a forgotten corner. He hated the ceiling light that taunted him with its brightness. He hated the balled up clothes scattered around the room that were impossible to tell whether they were dirty clean. He hated that wooden door to his room that he sat against so many times after he was given new bruises while still being left with no emotion, no words. Silenced. He hated the feel of his room. He hated the memories it contained. He hated being reminded of something he tried to block out of his life. He hated that his room caused all this pain and trouble for him. He hated that it was his room. He hated that he hated his own room. He's always hated that fucking room of his, and nothing could ever, in a million years, happen in that room he calls his that would ever make him like it again. Nothing. The hatred for his room was so bitter it left his tongue tingling. He hated it. Hated that fucking room.

Billie Joe walked past his room and into the bathroom, feeling disgusted and sick to his stomach just from looking at it.

And when he got into that cold bathroom, his mind went right back to that hatred. But what he hated more was himself. He hated his life, what he went through, how he dealt with it. He hated every single thing about himself, completely forgetting that Steve was the one that made him that way. He was numb, no emotion in years. He hasn't cried in years. He hasn't spoken up in years. All he because of the fear his stepdad caused him.

Billie crumbled to the floor and leaned against the cabinets beneath his sink. Soon the hatred and bitterness turned into confusion and question. What is wrong with him? Why can't he feel? Why is he so painfully numb?