Welcome to Paradise // Billie Joe Armstrong // #Wattys2017

A victim of my symptoms

I tap my pen against the back of the chair mimicking the rhythm of the ticking clock behind me. The silence of the room is stress-relieving, as well as it's terrifying. Billie hasn't woken up since he slipped into unconsciousness earlier today. I sigh and place my head against the back of my chair, contemplating what to do.

There's been a moment I've wondered whether all of this was real. If it was just a way for my brain to cope with the daily loneliness. Because, let's face it; I'm in the middle of a zombie-apocalypse and Billie Joe Armstrong is currently laying on my bed. Sounds to good to be true, doesn't it? And for some reason, the thought of it alone scares me. I refuse to believe that things happen for a reason. That there's more behind our daily actions than we think and that life has meaning. I think we're put on this earth by accident and it's nothing more than a long wait until we die. And we better make the best out of it.

Nevertheless, I'm here. And so is Billie.

I'm terrified, to say at least. What do I do if he wakes up? What do I say? There's a chance he can't remember how he got wounded or maybe he doesn't even remember who he is. Do I tell him he's the lead-singer and guitarist of Green Day, one of the greatest bands ever? Do I ask him about his wife or about Mike and Tre? What about them actually? Why aren't they with him?

Shit.

There are so many questions that need answers and so far I have none. I look at Billie again. It's kind of ironic how the man that's always helped me escape daily-life issues has now become my biggest problem. He looks so peaceful lying there, not aware of the mess that's going on outside. His arms are resting on his chest and his breathing is steady. I stare blankly at the wound in his side when all of a sudden it hits me I haven't done anything about it yet.

I quickly get off my chair and leave the room. I walk downstairs and enter the main hall where I take my left to the school nursery. As I open the doors, I'm immediately welcomed by the undistinguished hospital-smell. The room is a complete wreck. The big cabinets that hold all the medicine have fallen to the ground and are now laying on top of each other. Bottles are spread all over the floor and there's a corpse in the corner of the room.

I'm a little lost. Where do I begin searching in this mess, and most important of all; what am I searching for? What do you give an unconscious 43-year old man with a big wound in his side? I decide I'm probably going to need some bandage, so I get to my knees and begin searching the floor.

* * * * *

Billies p.o.v.

I rub my fingers against my sleep to alleviate the headache that's racing through my skull. The light is sharp and I have to squint my eyes to keep them open. There's an intense pain that's reaching from my back all the way to my waist and I let out a loud groan as I try to sit up straight. I bring my hand to my side only to discover that it's soaking wet. I try to glance down, but all I can see is black spots. My head is spinning like crazy and every movement I make is a struggle to stay conscious.

Where the fuck am I?

As soon as the thought enters my head, I begin to panic. I anxiously look around me to find something familiar. There's nothing. The room I'm in seems to be getting smaller with every second and my senses are working overtime as the ticking of the clock to my right sounds louder than it has ever had. My fear increases as another thought slips into my mind.

Adrienne.

Where is she? Is she alright? Are Mike and Tre with her? Millions of questions are blasting through my head on full speed, but my mind is completely blank.

"Calm down, Billie. You've had a long night, you got way too drunk and now you can't remember a thing." I whisper, trying to calm myself down.

No. I don't know what it is, maybe some sort of sixth sense or just my instincts screaming common sense into me, but this is not just some hangover after a long night of drugs and booze. This is something very different.

I try to get up. The pain that's traveling through my body is insanely strong and I'm trying my hardest to stay on my feet. "Addy!" I yell as loud as I can, the intenseness of my voice filling the silence of the room. I desperately grasp onto things, trying to reach the door. I let the weight of my body do the work and soon I find myself standing in the hallway where I fall to my knees in exhaustion.

"ADDY!" My screams are echoing through the deserted hallway. Where on earth is everyone?! This place looks like a complete ghost town.

My hands find their way to my face as I begin to cry. I swear this is the last time I'm doing drugs.

* * * * *

Aileen's p.o.v.

I'm still making my way through the destruction of the room, when a loud noise causes my entire body to freeze. I pick up a tube of Betadine with trembling hands and quickly get back on my feet. The scream is coming from upstairs, but it reaches all the way into the mail hall. I grab all the other supplies I've gathered and leave the room.

He must be awake.

I can feel my panic begin to rise as I'm running up the stairs. I still have no clue of what to say to Billie and time has run out to think about it. Millions of horrible scenarios race through my head that are eager to tear my brain apart. I stop in my step when my delirious thoughts have reached their peak.

He probably doesn't want to have anything to do with me.

I try, to the best of my ability, not to cry. My breathing is getting more rapid and irregular and I feel myself beginning to hyperventilate.

All this time without any human interaction has turned me into an emotional wreck and I haven't realized it until now. How could I've ever guessed that meeting my biggest idol was going to be this terrifying?

But I know one thing and it's the only hope I have; Billie might not want it, but he damn right is going to need all the help I can offer him.

So, I close my eyes for a brief moment, gather all my nerves and continue my way upstairs.

He's the first thing I see when I reach the hallway. Sitting on the floor, his hands covering his face. I stare at the sight of it for a short amount of time before he notices my presence. His emerald green eyes meet mine.

This is not at all how I imagined to find him. It's my favorite idol in his most vulnerable self; the tears on his cheeks as a reflection of the destruction that's raging inside his body, the way his head is bent towards the carpet... It tears me apart, but it's nothing compared to the five words he speaks next. With desperation oozing out his voice, he asks:

"What is happening to me?"