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

Baby Eyes

It had always been there, a subconscious thought drifting through the black space in my mind, inevitable signals trying to warn me for all that was happening behind my back; longing, dirty looks that carried nothing but lust and touches so small they went unnoticed by my inattentive state of mind.

                                                                                          ----

I sat on the matrass we had placed against one of the bookshelves, staring into the empty air. My thoughts were about Mike; about his death, the memories we shared together. Basically about everything I had been thinking about since the moment he passed away.

And the more I thought about it, the more I felt the guilt slithering underneath my skin. Poisonous venom coursing through my veins made me think Mike's blood was on my hands. It was simply self-fulfilling prophecy, a delusional idea that had grown on me, that I had learned to accept as the truth as the time passed.

And there was no one around to convince me otherwise.

The idea of being responsible for my best friend's death made the blood pump faster through my veins and caused black spots to appear in front of my vision. A whining beep sounded loudly in my ears and numbed out all the noises around me. my heart rate sped up.

I let my head fall into the palms of my hands as I tugged on my hair aggressively, a failing attempt to take the pain away from my heart. The world was spinning around me fast and I knew that I had to get some fresh air if I wanted to contain my consciousness. The only problem was that Adrienne and Tre were out to look for food and other supplies, and I was supposed to stay inside to guard the library.

But then again, who was going to break in anyways?

I slowly lifted my numb body up from the matrass and slouched towards the front door. I wasn't too fond of the idea of being so visible, but we had barricaded the back door to make sure there was only one way in and one way out, so reaching the back area of the library was no option.

As the big door opened with a squeaking sound, a wave of fresh air blew into my face. I took a deep breath and let my head rest against the door frame, closing my eyes momentarily. I think at that point I already knew something was not quite right. During the apocalypse, the streets were quiet, quiet in a rather eerie way.

Not this time, though. There was silence for sure, but through that silence, I heard muffled sounds coming from somewhere in the direction of an alley that was situated between the library and an old vet.

There were walkers. And they were close.

All the peace I had gathered during my short moment outside vanished as if it had never been there in the first place. Where were Adrienne and Tre? Were they all right? The questions filling my head caused my headache to return, more severe than it had been the past days.

I had to do something, so I quickly ran inside and grabbed a sharp piece of metal. I bounced through the front door again and quickly ran towards where I imagined the sounds to be coming from. It seemed as if the street became longer the more I ran, as if buildings appeared out of nowhere to prevent me from reaching my destination. For a moment, I even started wondering if I was tripping on acid or something.

I stopped my running. Acid; it reminded me of this one time I came home and found Mike sitting against the wall, his bass placed in his lap. It looked like his eyes were hanging out of his sockets, that's how fucking high he was. He was completely tripping on some acid and all the while, he played this insane bassline. I remember myself wishing he'd remember it. That's how Longview was written, y'know.