Whatsername

Part 8

By the time we made it home, it was nearly 3 in the morning. Mike and Tre were passed out in the back of the car and Billie and I talked the whole way home - but not about Ben, like I had planned. Instead we talked about music. He was really into that kind of stuff and he used to be in a band, but his drummer left for college, so they were working on stuff with Tre as their drummer. It made sense, Tre is enthusiastic enough. Mostly, I was delaying the inevitable Ben conversation as long as I could. What Billie, Mike, or Tre didn't know, didn't hurt them. Billie pulled into the driveway, and glanced at the backseat at Mike and Tre.

"Alright guys, wake up, we're here." Billie said with a yawn.

"Ahh fuck!" Mike said. "Tre get your foot outta my face!" Tre groaned and stretched getting out of the car.

"Get your face outta my foot!" He replied back, closing the door.

"That doesn't even make sen- whatever." Mike said, getting out of the car and heading into the house. Billie and I burst into laughter, following him inside. Tre was already in his room, and so was Mike.

"You can sleep in my room, I'll crash on the couch." Billie said.

"Have you even slept in your new house yet?" I asked, not wanting to intrude.

"No, but I want you to be comfortable." Billie shrugged, put his hands in his pockets and stared at a dust bunny floating across the floor.

"Well I want you to be comfortable too. C'mon, we can share." I replied, but not really knowing what I had said until I said it. I didn't want him to think that I was pushing him to sleep with me... Oh god... I hope I didn't just fuck up.

"Okay," Billie said cooly, but still watching the dust bunny.

We went into his room, which had boxes stacked in the corners, and a bed in the center. Billie reached into one of the boxes and threw a shirt, and a pair of his boxers at me. I smelled his freshly washed t-shirt, still creased from being folded. Billie seemed to live a life that was grungy, but he was actually very clean.

He saw me pondering over his clothes, and immediately recounted, "Thought you might not want to sleep in your beach clothes," He said with a soft smile.
I thanked him, and went to the bathroom to take a shower and get changed. I still had scars from the night the incident happened. Emotionally and physically. The bricks of the wall digging into my sides, and the shards of glass on the sidewalk tore my naked skin apart, on my legs, and sides, hands and arms. I thought about them every time I saw myself in the mirror, or in the shower, which lead me to think about Ben, and what he had done.
God, I wanted to kill him. I had these conversations with the hospital therapist many times, but this was the first day I had been out, and it was hard to keep control. I glanced at the razor Billie must've put in the shower, and shut off the water and got dressed in his clothes. They smelled like detergent and well... Billie. It was comforting, and smelled nothing like the blood, dirt, and grime of the awful memory that clouded my mind. I walked back into the bedroom and Billie was already in bed asleep. I crawled in next to him and the second I shut my eyes, I was fast asleep.