My Life With Billie Joe Armstrong (discontinued)

Chapter 23: A new beginning

Saddies POV:

I woke up with my bedroom door cracked and thought about the night prior. We must've gotten home late, because I just went straight to bed and crashed.

I was going to stay.

I never had to go back accept to get the few things I wanted to take here. That's when the fighting would start. It's when cops would be called, arrests would happen, maybe even a hospital trip. But by golly George, I was staying with billie.

I sighed and laid still with havoc curled up close to my side. My hand mindlessly was stroking her forehead and her purring, along with the humidifier, were the only sounds in the room.

What if she tried to hurt any of them?....
What if she went at me so much I didn't come back...

My hand twitched and I slowly rose to a sitting state, my arms snaking their way around my knees.

"Well...I suppose I should get up..." I muttered. When I turned to the door I saw someone move from view quickly.

"Hello?" I said, confused and hesitant. After a few short seconds of silence, Jacob pokes his head into my room slowly.

"Can..can we talk?...heart to heart?" I nodded and scratched my head. It was early but at least he was making progress. He stood shyly in the door and twiddled his thumbs; I could tell he was searching for words.

"Why...do you hurt yourself?.." I was puzzled at first but when I met his gaze and followed it to my legs, still bandaged, I looked back to him.

"Jacob, when you've been a victim of abuse your whole life, and known very little happiness, mental health disorders can develop. They don't leave either. And sometimes they win that battle in your head." He had a heavy look in his eyes and I saw him bite his lip.

"Did...the things I sa-"

"Contribute? Yes. You can't expect someone whose struggled with heavy depression and self esteem to response positively to the words "go slit your wrists"." He looked at his feet and I looked back to havoc, still asleep.

"Do you think you'll get better?" I looked back to him at the sound of his words and shrugged.

"It's a never ending battle. Yeah sure. They make meds and therapy. But most meds have more negative effects anyways, and therapy?..." I shook my head. "It's a joke."

"It helps some people."

"Some. Those are the people dealing with minor things."

"And the ones dealing with major things?.."

"We do this battle on our own. Real warriors know having help is more than just meds and talking."

"But it might be helpful to try?..." I shot him a look and his face expressed that he pulled the statement back. I didn't have an issue with therapy. Or with people who went to therapy or took meds.

I just hated when people pressed the issue into my life or scenario someway or another.

"Is that why you smoke?" I chuckled.

"That's actually for my anxiety. It's out of date so I have to renew it but I have a medical card. Technically I shouldn't even buy off the street, but it's always been better quality that way for some reason." I shrugged and looked up.