Remembering Billie

Billie's [P.O.V.]

I wake up to the pulsing of my head going 'BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!', like someone is slamming their fists into the front of my skull. Gritty sand is stuck in my lashes and clothes, and my breath the stench of cheap vodka. My phone bleeps noisily beside me. Gus's eyes flicker open and he smiles at me. I don't return the sympathy. He picks up my phone and wearily, answers. "Hello?" He can barely be heard over the drumming of the waves against the sand, but its obvious who's calling. My parents. He puts the phone on speaker as I collect our gear. "Yes, we're fine." He's frustrated, I can tell. Last night's booze hasn't helped at all. "Billie's with you?" "No, yeah-" He lets out a angry sigh, "Well get your asses back here!" That was dad, "Yes, we'll be back soon, okay? Okay." He throws the cell at me hurriedly. "We need to go, Bills." he runs his hand through his hair. "I know." I'm not surprised by his mood, really. And I suppose I'll have to drive. I plop into the driver's seat and fish out some Advil from Chang's gearbox. I down some, before tossing the water bottle and Advil to Gus. He gives me a weak smile and closes his eyes as we pull out of the car park and onto the road.

"Where in god's name have you been?" I wobble slightly and make my way over to my parents who are standing in the garage, by the door. I shrug my shoulders, my eyes drooping with exhaustion. Gus forces a smile onto his face and answers for me, "The beach." They continue to glare. I'm silently willing Gus to say something charming. "W- we drove to the beach." I nod my head in agreement. "We wanted to spend some bonding time together." He fake pouts at my parents and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. They sigh and look at us. "Right, well that's okay. We kind of drove you off anyways." Mum shrugs her shoulders and pulls me into a one armed hug. She then hugs Gus who looks like he's about to collapse. My father glares at me, before grinning at Gus, "Go have a shower in the on-sweat of your room, then we can eat us some brekkie!" Gus nods his head in obedience and heads off. We stand in silence before what seems like my anger, the aching in my brain and the irritation of my father, sends a rushing of ample flooding through me and I rashly blurt out, "I need a shower too. Thanks for caring about your REAL child." I stalk off into the bathroom in anger and lock the door behind me. I turn the shower on full blast, switch on the vents and the heater and strip off my dirty sand covered clothes, throwing them in the laundry basket. Tears fill my eyelids, blurring my vision as I hop into the shower. I sit on the floor and let the water rush over me. Trickling down my back and matting my hair even though its only shoulder length and thin. I don't usually vomit up alcohol but I don't like having the chemicals seeping through my veins and so therefore, I stick my finger down my throat and chuck up everything that was sitting in my stomach. I heave until I'm spluttering out white slimy saliva and bile.  I start shaving my legs, content on distracting myself from the rancid vomit smell and the throbbing of my head. I groan, realizing I just got rid of my Advil. The shaver slips, and slices my leg. I barely care anymore. The blood trickles down my leg and creates a red puddle slipping through the grates of the shower floor. It stings, but it distracts me from the pain that's bleeding from my heart. I slice again, realizing the relief floods through me. Now my arms, I slice downwards.

A couple years ago, someone from the Suicide Prevention Group came to our school to talk about Self Harm. She said that downward arm strokes cause the worst damage by hitting nerves and veins. She told us all about how our generation is the worst for being suicidal. Everyone snorted at that, until she showed us statistics. Then they showed us photos of self harm. But they got dragged out after that. Some of the students ran outside to vomit in bins and most of us looked a bit like ghosts. I didn't really mind the photos. They're the ugly truth and if people can't bare to see that, but can see pretty girls crying in the rain with mascara running down their cheeks then I suppose the lady was right. This generation is relatively fucked up.

I hastily dry myself off and chuck on a pair of boy's boxers and a stretched-out grey tank top. I blow dry my hair quickly and tie it back in a knot. It takes all of my will to step outside the bathroom. My heart pumping with the thought of my father waiting outside, I push open the door to have a cold rush of wind in my face. He's not there. I hear the clattering of cutlery against plates and my heart plummets. They're eating. Without me.  My face flames. They actually don't care. I walk to my bedroom and sit on my bed. I stare at the ground, concentrating on my breathing. The door creaks open and Mum shuffles in. She wraps me in a bear hug, her arms enveloping me into safety. I relax in her arms because she gets it. She understands how it feels. After awhile, she leaves landing a kiss on my forehead, but comes back with a now, cold plate of pancakes and maple syrup with bacon. I smile gratefully and eat through my food, with my homework on my lap, trying to figure out the problems in my physics book.

Soon after, Gus comes in, knocking lightly at the door. I ignore him, although that doesn't stop him from coming over. He sits on my bed, looking at the ground. "I'm really sorry." He says quietly. "I know you are," My voice comes out low and husky from the vomiting and crying. My arms hurt. he doesn't say anything after that, and neither do I. "I need to sleep." I say bluntly.  He takes this as his cue to leave and gets up to go. "Well," He's really looking at me now. I pull my arms to my sides, hiding the cuts. "I love you, okay?" I bow my head down, I know he does. So all I say is, "I know, I know you do." He leaves, shutting the door behind him. I down the Advil on my desk and close my eyes, trying to wish myself to death.

I open my eyes, its 3:30 Am  and the world seems to have just stopped in the creeping silence  of the night. I sit up and rub my eyes, knowing well and truly that I won't be able to fall asleep. I can't play my violin though, and so, with nothing better to do, I sneak out of the house. Maybe I should've invited Gus, but I honestly don't care about his goody-two-shoes ass. I slip out of the house, tiptoeing like a mouse. Still in my Pjs but with a pair of shoes on, I reverse Chang out of the driveway before turning on the engine and shutting the door. I breathe a sigh of relief as soon as I reach the highway into the city.

I arrive at our Music Studio on Quaver St and jiggle my keys in the lock to get inside. Its dark and cold, but otherwise fine. I jump the stairs two at a time, eager to reach the top. Once I reach the main recording centre, I turn the lights on, bringing the room to life. I slump into my huge, plush swivel chair and switch on the Recording Centre, a million lights now flickering in front of me like a city's lights. I grab my headphones, put them on, and switch to Live Feed. Sharp, gruff breathing comes through, and I'm grimacing, thinking of what the hell it could possibly be. Suddenly, a loud clear voice comes through; "Hello? Is anyone there?"

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Hi! I'm not sure if anyone actually reads this story, but anyways! It would mean a lot if you dropped a vote if you liked this chapter!

-Venus