dollhouse // billy hargrove

four

billy's pov

as heather is about to walk away to get to her first period, i stumble over my words eventually turning them into anger. "you know, i'm not a fucking show horse. you can't just show off my cuts from shit i have done to your friends as they all gasp at how bad they look." i snarl.

she takes a moment to realize everything i have just said as her once kind eyes were filled with pain and her normally soft voice was filled with anger as she spoke.

"listen, billy. i'm just trying to help you because you clearly need it." acknowledging the scratches and cuts. she takes a breath, holding back the tears laying gently at her waterline. "you come to school every single day with cuts and bruises all over you. don't you think people notice? snap into fucking reality billy, you aren't hiding anything." her voice getting higher as tears start to dribble down her face.

"heath-"

"i'm not fucking done." she interrupts, tears streaming down her face. i have never seen her like this. "every single time someone tries to help you, you turn your back on them. why can't you just accept the fact that just because someone is helping you, you aren't weak? the strongest people in the world, mentally and physically, got there with some type of help." she takes a breath and shoots out her last words. "you are an asshole, billy hargrove."

before she could walk away, i do, turning back and saying one last thing, "i think it's best if you stay the fuck away from me and never talk to me again, just like how it should have been from the beginning."

her sniffling fills the hallways as she runs to her first class. whereas i walk the opposite way, out of school. my footsteps matching exactly to the sound of hers, creating one.

i shove open the school door. the school officer chases me shouting the only question he ever asks me. "where the fuck do you think you're going, mr. hargrove?" he never phased me. he was scrawny and i could easily take him down in a fight if ever gotten the chance to.

i shoot up my middle finger as i walk farther and farther away, his voice drowns out by the second bell. while getting into my car, i shrug to him, "sorry i can't hear you! the bell!"

the slamming shut of the car door and the local rock radio station, at a volume that could easily burst your eardrums, blocks out any outer noise trying to get in. i rev the engine a few times before i hear the loud screeching of my wheels against the asphalt.

free.

hungry like the wolf by duran duran comes on and i start drumming to the beat on my steering wheel, lip-syncing and headbanging to the words. feeling the sense of escape, for one time in my life.

my bandaged hand catches my attention after hurting a bit from slamming it on the steering wheel, remembering how delicately heather wrapped it.

i put anger in her voice and pain in her eyes when all she wanted to do was help. maybe she was right. i don't think i need help because i don't want to feel weak, but instead, i'm weak for not getting help.

i pull over to the side of the road and get out of the car. branches and leaves snap and crackle from underneath my feet as i trudge my way through the thickness of indiana's woods. i walked for what seemed like forever but was only a matter of minutes before i saw what i was looking for. my jaw drops surprised at the fact that no one tore it down, especially neil.

hargrove's hut.

i shift open the door, creaking every inch and peek my head in. everything was just how i left it four years ago. ever since we moved to this shit hole city of hawkins, indiana, i needed an escape. hargrove's hut was filled with memories from california. after my mother left us, neil decided to move across the country with his newfound love, susan, to make sure we would never see my mom again, even though she was never the problem, he was.

i haven't been here since neil found out about it and called me a pussy because i spent so much time in here, away from everyone, away from the world. no one was ever welcomed in.

i was for sure he was going to ruin it, but that night he probably drunk until he blacked out because his son was not who he wanted him to be, forgetting about the whole day.

i sit in the middle of the floor and look at everything, as perfect as a teenage boy could have hung everything up.

the first thing that catches my eye is my yellow surfboard. i don't know why i brought it here because there's absolutely no access to water anywhere, unlike california. but it reminded me of the seven-foot wave i rode for the first time when i was 10, my mother watching in a beautiful white dress. she was happy, i was happy.

on the wall plastered next to it is a polaroid photo of my mom and i standing with it in front of the christmas tree, once again, happy. little did i know that was the last christmas of all of us together.

on the next wall were multiple polaroids of different occasions. birthdays, holidays, once in a lifetime things. i stare at one picture specifically, me riding a red bike. i was around four and red was my favorite color at the time. i remember seeing neil always riding off on his motorcycle and talking about how i just wanted to be like him. i was so wrong.

but, regardless, he heard me out for once and came home from work with a new, red bike for me. the last gift i would have ever been given by him. as soon as he came home, he spent hours teaching me what to do and how everything worked, how it was not quite like his bike.

eventually, i started pedaling as fast as my four-year-old self could and he let go. trusting me on my own. the first breath of freedom i've ever taken and he was cheering me on. although i only pedaled a few yards before i collapsed into the soft grass, it was the first and only time he was proud of me.

the first and only time he was a father to me.

i come back into reality and realize the time on the clock nailed to the wall.

"shit," i mumble to myself.

as i pick myself up quickly from off of the floor accidentally with both hands, i yelp in pain. looking at my toilet paper covered hand, only to realize the blood is finally soaking through drop by drop. as i start to unwrap it, faded by the blood was something written in pen, but there was no time to read it. the toilet paper dropped to the floor as i ran to my car.

i needed to get max before she got home.