A/N: THIS CONTAINS CUTTING AND MENTIONS OF SUICIDE! THIS IS THE TRIGGER WARNING! CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED!
Your POV
Another day, more pain, at least, for me. I don't have parents. Only my dumb abusive stepfather. I don't mean, physically. I mean mental abuse. He has a silver tongue, but instead of using it for good, he beats me up with his words. I'm never good enough for him. I'm a huge fan of Green Day, and they are having a concert near where I live, for their album Dookie. Of course, the reason I've locked myself in the bathroom, and am currently cutting the fuck out of my left wrist, is because of my failed attempt to go to the concert. I already have the tickets, but not the permission. Fuck this. I'm sneaking out. I stand up, rinsing my wrists off, grabbing a paper towel and applying pressure to my cuts to stop the bleeding. Once my cuts have stopped gushing blood, I grab my green day tank top, some skinny black slashed jeans, my backpack, containing my ticket and money, and jump out of my bedroom window, three stories up. I land on the roof and slide down the fire escape. I sprint to the performance hall, which is only five blocks from my apartment complex. I got the tickets by stealing my stepdad's credit card. I'm actually doing him a favor since all he really uses it for is buying alcohol in bulk. I pay all the bills anyway, so he won't even notice. I got front row standing tickets. I'll be inches away from Billie Joe Armstrong! Just the thought makes me squeal a bit. I get to my seat and put my bag on it. It's not like I'll be sitting on it at all anyways.
A couple minutes later, Green Day comes out! I scream, along with basically everyone else in the place, and throw my hands up, forgetting about the recent cuts up and down my arm. I see Billie glance in my direction, and then do a double take, his eyes widening at my arm. Oh shit. I quickly lower my arm, seeing him walking towards me in my peripheral vision. "Please, don't do that to yourself, ok?" I look up to see Billie staring at me with pleading eyes. I nod, looking down. He smiles, and pulls something out of his pocket, extending it to me. I take it and see that he's given me a phone number. His phone number. I smile and put it into my bag. The rest of the night is amazing. The whole concert, Billie and I keep on sharing small looks, and every time we met eye contact, he would smile at me. I momentarily forgot about my stepdad. When the concert ended, I looked at my phone. SHIT. 12:47?! I snatch my backpack up, and sprint out, going home as fast as possible, not noticing the brokenhearted Billie behind me.
Once I get home, I climb up to my window, only to find it locked. Shit. That can only mean one thing. "Y/N! GET THE FUCK DOWN HERE! NO. DON'T EVEN. JUST LEAVE. FUCK OFF. YOU'RE EIGHTEEN. GET OUT MY HOUSE." He screams, storming into the apartment building. Well, I guess I'm better off on the streets than with his bullshit. I climb down and then remember about Billie's number. I dial it, and it rings. And rings. Right when I was going to give up, he picks up. "Hey, this is Billie Joe Armstrong. What can I do for ya?" "Hey, uh, this is the girl from the concert, um, the one who cuts. My stepdad just threw me outa my house. Can I stay with you?" I hear yelling, and then he comes back. "Yep!" He gave me the address, and I started my walk towards a new life.
A/N: Yes there will be a second part! I'm sorry I'm updating slowly, I've just been hella busy. I have summer tutoring, because I'm a retarded emo fuck, so yeah. Also, I do cut, if someone is going to ask. If you want me to explain why, just comment. I'm not afraid to share.
