Remembering Billie

The Next Day. [Casper's P.O.V.]

Everything hurts. I don't mean this literally -well to some degree, I do-  But I sort of mean it in the way of how a girl feels after being dumped. Stereotypical right? Anyways, its my inside which hurts the most. My heart. My soul? (If I even have one. Ha.)  Mum keeps mentioning that it's depression, a side affect of the meds. I don't particularly believe her. So as I usually do, like I did with Cherry, I googled 'depression' and found out some stuff. Stuff which makes me realize why my mother calls me 'emo'. Cherry gave me her number, so I decide to call. Doing so, I'm sitting on my unmade bed, chugging a Gatorade and eating a bowl of kiwifruit. She picks up on the first ring. "Hello, Cherry speaking? How may I be of service to you?" I stifle a laugh and smirk. "Nothing," I say bluntly. "It's Casper." Her tone shifts to a relaxed one. "Oh hi Casper, what's going on?" She sounds worried, or maybe I'm imagining it? I don't have very good people cues after being house bound for the majority of my life. "Uhm, Mum says I have depression." She doesn't say anything for a moment. "Yeah," She says. "Probably." As I said, I don't catch on to people and uh, emotions well. So ignoring her tense voice, I reply "Yeah, so she also says it's a side affect of my meds." Cherry sighs, "Yeah, probably." "And I did some googling just before and I think she's right." I wait for Cherry's reply, and am quickly disappointed by her, "Mhm" Is all she says. "Christ," I mutter under my breath, "Are my questions really that bad? Do you really hate me all that much?" "What?" Her response isn't something I was wanting to hear. But what did I even want? An apology? I'm her client, not her friend! My anger fizzles like a can of drink and before I can stop myself I say, "Maybe you have it too." "Pardon?!" I have her attention now, my teeth clench, "Because you really don't care about others as I've heard people with depression are like. Much as YOU need US for your wages anyways!"I'd have liked to slam the phone down all dramatic like what they do in the movies, but its not as easy to 'slam the phone down' with it being a mobile, so frustratingly, I struggle to end the call, ignoring her pleas of "Casper!" And finally, after a minute of blasted frustration, shaking in annoyance, I end the call and throw my phone with a thump, to the other side of the room. Barely a minute later, my phone starts ringing. "Good God!" I cry out and immediately break out into a thick one way argument of swearing both at my phone, at Cherry and at life, in fucking general.

I sit on my bed and focus on my breathing. My small stomach rising and falling , first fast, but gradually my becoming slower, and with doing so, my anger as well. I pick up my laptop which I had deposited by my window, and start googling again. Apparently another part of depression is either over eating, or under eating. And the diet usually consists of junk food as well. I nod my head to this, a sign. 'Trouble with maintaining relationships, has trouble sleeping and usually angry and irritated over small things.' I draw my brows together. I'm not sure how I never noticed this. I realize now, I've always been like this. And thinking about it now, at a young age, my pessimistic attitude and multitude of anger break downs caused me to lose friends pretty fast. Which probably triggered my Agoraphobia. It just shows how little they tell us of mental illnesses as kids at school. But then again, Health has never been my mother's forte either. My phone lets out a shrill ring again. Knowing it's Cherry, I ignore it, plug in my earphones and let The Red Hot Chili Peppers' take over the main parts of my consciousness.

"CASPER!" I jump in surprise, my eyes flying open and ripping out my earphones to see my exasperated mother red faced and sweaty and standing in front of me. "What?" I say, slightly pissed off. She scared me. "Why the fuck didn't you answer your phone? I thought you were dead for Christ sakes!" But apparently I scared her more. "Sorry.." I mutter. I truly feel bad. Like crap actually. "Why?" She's pleading and now I know it isn't just about me not answering my phone. It's also just hit me that she hasn't been in my room since I was ten when I had the flu so bad I could barely move. Anxiety floods through me. The drinks. The alcohol. The cigarettes. I have the urge to scream at her to get out. But I know I cant't. So as calm as I can manage, I tell her, "I thought someone else was calling and I didn't want to talk to them. I'm sorry." To make her feel better, I stare right into her piercing hazel eyes; Full eye contact which she respects. She opens her mouth to say something but instead looks at me, relaxes her shoulders and sighs. "It's okay, Cas. I was worried that's all." She comes over, and I let her hug me. She smells of Dove deodorant and aloe vera. A comforting scent which washes over me. I hug her back and can almost feel her beaming smile against my back. "I love you, Cas." She says quietly, her voice muffled by my shirt. I'm not a person for emotions so I ruin the moment with a single sentence without meaning to. "I know." She breaks away from the hug and blinks dully at me. "Have you taken your meds today?" I nod my head. "Oh," She says surprised. "You look like... You've just drunken a bottle of vodka." I smile at her reassuringly and laugh even though she pretty much nailed it. She laughs at me oblivious, "Dinner will be ready soon." I nod, and watch as she leaves. She stops suddenly and grins at me, "Cherry called after you. She wants to talk to you." My anger fizzles again. "Okay." "Call her, okay." She leaves my room and in a huff, I mope around my room sipping on a bottle of Bentley's vodka and mumbling words under my breath.

Time passes as slow as ever when I have something to do that I don't want to do. I'm half sober, but if you think of it positively, I'm definitely half near drunk. With nothing else to do at 9 at night, I stumble around for my electric guitar and jam out a few songs. Or as many as it takes before the neighbors start screaming words of a barbarous manner that I stop playing for the innocence of my ears.

"Flames ignite his frozen heart; she's the one who took the part. She decided to not only take a risk, but to love him in a way she couldn't confess. Her eyes they bled with soul and depth. His were ones of cruelty and myth. He trusted her, with such pure sense, she smiled and laughed and called it nonsense. And all was well to both in presence. Until she died that one night in a fit of flames and burnt disappearance." I wake up screaming, my heart palpitating and my head spinning. I can't see much through the bombardment of tears, but out of my peripheral vision, I spot my mother, face ghastly white; opposite to her red with sweat and anger one from this afternoon, hurrying towards me. I keep sobbing. The burning house. The girl screaming. Her laughter. My laughter. Our happiness. It all keeps flooding back. I could almost swear I could taste the ash in my mouth and the burning of smoke creeping into my lungs. I feel Mum's arms wrap around me, I continue to cry. Until I'm exhausted, and she can't think of any other words to say andleaves me. To blink in the dark, holding back screams and tears. To her sleeping peacefully in bed again, next to my father.  Knowing that I totally just ruined whatever bond we had made this afternoon. I feel sick, with nausea. And I want to die. But after that nightmare - the whole basis of it being about dying- I couldn't quite possibly take my own life. So instead, I lay here. My heart quaking with pain and despair, my eyes drooping of exhaustion and my head foggy with alcohol and cigarette smoke. I lay, wishing I was dead, but wanting to not have to do it to myself at all.