Silenced

Chapter 17

When Billie woke up the next morning, he looked at the clock to see that it was only 6 am. He wasn't surprised, considering he fell asleep so early. His neck was sore from sleeping on Mike's couch.

Billie Joe sat up a little and took in his surroundings. He noticed that he had a blanket draped over him that wasn't there when he fell asleep. He figured Mike gave it to him last night. Billie wanted to feel cared for about this simple gesture, but he figured it meant nothing, for he was incapable of being cared about.

Billie started to itch his forearm, the dangerous zone on his arm that intimidated and influenced him more than anything. Where he cuts himself. Billie rolled up his sleeve, wanting to get a better look at the damage he'd done.

Scabs formed in straight lines ran up and down Billie Joe's arm horizontally. Some of his cuts have healed, but they unsurprisingly left a scar. Billie tried to tell himself to not cut so deep, but nothing could control his demonic urge. Some of his cuts were irritated by his sweatshirts constantly running up against them. That's one price Billie the was willing to pay. He was willing to have a burning sensation in his skin that left his skin crawling all day. The cuts were worth it to him. He knew they shouldn't be.

The more Billie Joe sat there, the more the sun rose over the horizon. The sky turned into beautiful shades of blue and purple as Billie still sat under the blanket that was making his neck sweat. The more Billie Joe sat there, the more he wanted to cut himself again. He was anxious to see the thick, metallic liquid run down his arms. The blood that was impossible to return back into his blood stream, just so his weak veins could keep his body going. His heart was getting tired of keeping him alive. So was his mind.

Billie couldn't take it anymore. He was uncomfortable knowing that he could be slicing lines into his arms that calmed him like a cigarette did to an addict. He needed to cut himself. It made him feel better. It made his world better. His oh so dark world that could use a splash of red to brighten his day.

Peeking up from his spot on the couch, Billie Joe listened for any noise in the house. He knew that Mike's parents weren't home, for his dad had left him a while ago, and his mom was on a business trip. He listened for Mike though, knowing that he was an extremely light sleeper, and any small sound would snap him awake.

Billie figured he could tip toe into the kitchen and grab a knife before Mike would have time to wake up and notice. He could cut himself in the bathroom, wash the blood down the sink, and throw the knife away so that Mike wouldn't notice it in the dirty dishes. Billie felt relaxed with his plan, but he was ashamed that he had to come up with it in the first place.

Silently, Billie Joe threw the blanket off of him. He stood slowly, trying to memorize where every creak was in Mike's floorboards. He was shaking from the potential of being caught.

He made it into the kitchen after slowly stepping over every object that was sprawled across the floor. Billie was actually surprised that he did it with only stepping on a few squeaky boards.

Billie ran his hand through his hair and silently sighed as he walked to the drawer holding the sparkly silverware. When he opened it, a few spoons rattled, and he closed his eyes tightly just hoping and praying that Mike didn't hear.

After Billie Joe was sure that he hadn't woken his friend, Billie searched the drawer for the sharpest knife in Mike's possession. He quickly found one, an intriguing black handle on the end. Billie Joe almost smiled in relaxation, knowing that he was about to do something that made him very happy. But maybe not so much happy with himself.

Billie put his finger on the end of the knife and felt the sharp tip poke him lightly. He liked the slight pinch. The slight pain. He wanted more. More pain. Not so slight, but very much extreme.