The Life of Mallory Winston [A Billie Joe Armstrong's Daughter Fanfic]

Chapter 2: Clothes

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

That's all that's coursing through my brain as I walk back the hallway with the two other girls, Ava and Morgan. They're both talking to each other about some guy they're into, so I hang back walking alone, lost in my thoughts.

We quickly reach the halls where all the clothes are being stashed for the moment, and my eyes immediately land on a short sleeved blue dress with a white apron.

My dress.

"Hi, hon," says a grey eyed parent volunteer who's in charge of costumes for the production. "Who are you playing?"

"Alice," I mutter, looking down at my feet, my eye twitching nervously. I watch as she walks over to dress and lifts holds it out to me by the hanger.

"Alright dearie, here's your dress, try it on and show me when your ready."

Great, so I have to show it to them....

Just my luck...

I look at the dress nervously and go find a corner where no one can see me...hopefully.

Well, here goes nothing...

I pull my black hoodie off in the same way you'd pull off a bandaid, quickly. It leaves me feeling very expised in my plain green t-shirt. I look down at my exposed arms, covered in fresh cuts from wrist to elbow, as well as some scattered throughout my upper arm. My mind is immediately torn back to the night before-

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Just one cut, and you'll be fine.

Just one.

Enough to see blood, but not so much its obvious.

I grip the blade tighter in my hand, cold metal stinging.

Just do it, you know it makes you feel better.

I sigh.

What's the point of fighting it...?

I eagerly give in, swiping the sharp blade across my forearm, watching the blood slowly make trails down my pale skin.

Come on...just one more.

I comply to the voice in my head, doing another. And another. And another, until I'm left with mutilated arms, but peace inside; until the guilt kicks in and-

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-And a sudden gasp abruptly brings me back to reality. I look over to see Morgan staring at my arms, then glancing away, pretending not to notice. I ignore her and put my dress only. It's not her I'm worried about seeing them, it's the adults...at least that's what I tell myself. The hammering sensation in my chest would disargee but I know peers won't do anything about it, they don't give a shit about me, but adults...

Well, adults tend to get in the way of things like this.

Now fully clothed again, I look down at the dress. It fits me decently, and I would dare to even call it cute - which is saying something because I most defiantly am not a dress person.

Now for the hard part...

I reluctantly walk over to the older woman, my face burning with shame and nerves, arms behind my back, hidden from view.

I hope.

"That looks lovely darling!" The voluteer says, giving me a once over. "I don't think you'll need any adjustments to it, it fits like a glove! Oh- speaking of..." She cuts off, turning around to pull out a pair of elbow length white gloves. Internally, my relief fills my body.

Thank fucking God...

"But they should fit, so you won't need to try them now unless you want to," she says with a smile, and I shake my head quickly.

"T-that's fine, I'll try them l-later," I stammer, and she takes note of my behavior, offering a weary looking smile.

I just tentatively grin back nervously, then drop my gaze to examine the floor.

"You can go change back now, I'm sure that James will love it!"

I mumble something along the lines of 'okay, thank you," then quickly run back to put on my hoodie and jeans. Not wanting any more awkward moments, I decide to go back out towards the auditorium.

"Hey Mallory, wait up!"

I glance behind me to see Morgan, and knowing I can't ignore her like I'd like to, I offer a small smile and look away, hoping she'll get the hint I'm not in the mood. However, Morgan takes it as an invitation for conversation, and poorly attempts to make small talk. I barely respond to each thing, and it seems to after some time deter the conversation.

I can plainly see on her face she wants to ask about my cuts, but I put on a deadpan face and she leaves me alone about it, the silence deafening, but not in a bad way. Just an 'oh, shit; this is so awkward" way.

Once we make it back, I immediately jump on stage and become Alice. I lose all thoughts of cutting and all semse of myself; allowing all my problems just fade into the backround.

Even if only for a little while.