Half Dead Wasn't What I Planned To Be chapters 10-
Chapter 10: While You Sleep
I didn’t sleep much that night. I was too busy worrying over so many things to even touch upon sleeping. I ran thoughts through my head until I was completely exhausted, but I still couldn’t sleep.
Watching Benji sleep, a frown crept over my face. So many times in his life he has been hurt, he has had his heart broken for loving and trusting people. It’s a horrible thing to watch your mirror image go through because their heart is your heart. Their pain is your pain. It’s like that with everything they go through.
Seven AM rolled around too soon for my liking. Jumping up I scurried around the room while trying to make the least amount of noise as possible so as not to wake Benji. He could use the sleep. The longer he slept the less he would have to think over and analyze what had happened the night before. That was something he really didn’t need at the moment.
Taking a shower subtracted no more than fifteen minutes from the time I had to get to the airport. Too lazy to look for anything, I threw on the cloths I had been wearing the day before. It’s not like anyone would notice, and at the moment what I was wearing really wasn’t of any concern to me. Grabbing my jacket and keys, I stopped for a moment at the foot of the bed and gazed at my older twin. He looked so peaceful sleeping there. For a moment I pictured him years ago, before the colored hair and the piercings. Without the body décor, he really did look innocent and vulnerable. The one thing that hadn’t changed was his eyes. His outer appearance may have changed drastically, but when you looked into his eyes, they still told you his story. Perhaps I was the only one who knew how to read them.
Sighing, I found a piece of paper and pen to jot down a note for him per chance that he woke up before I returned with his surprise. I doubted that he would. For him, nights of heartbreak usually lead to an endless day’s sleep. I had been the shoulder to cry on more times than I cared to count, and each time it broke my heart.
Placing the paper beside him on the pillow, I left the hotel, pulling on a hat and sunglasses. The rental car was parked on the top of lower level parking, underneath the hotel. I turned on my cell phone and checked the clock. The flight should be in in about an hour.
“Come on! Jesus fucking Christ!” I yelled out, laying on the horn of the rental car. Everything was absolutely horrible. I had assumed that I would have more than enough time to get to the airport, park, find the terminal and maybe grab something to eat while waiting. Not being familiar with the area we were in, I had completely neglected to check the news to see how traffic was. Already, I was half an hour late and becoming extremely fed up with anyone not going at least ten miles over the speed limit.
Pulling into one of the multiple parking lots owned by the airport, I pulled the keys from the ignition. Once at the airport, I moved swiftly through getting lost a few times and cursing loudly. I paid no mind to the people around me, whether I was in their way or pushing through them because they were in mine.
“Sorry…” was the my mumbled reply when mothers or fathers of young children gave me nasty looks for using harsh language in front of young impressionable ears. Completely out of breath, I stood in the middle of a crowd of people turning around slowly and trying to get my bearings. Where the fuck did I need to go? At that moment I remembered why I hated airports so much. The flying wasn’t what got me. I knew many people who were afraid of flying. For me, it was the actual airport that made me nervous. So huge and with so many people, getting lost took no more than lack of attention for twenty seconds while you were walking.
A few seconds later, I had begun to catch my breath. Immediately the flight reaction took over my body once again, Moving with quick strides, I attempted to find anything that might signal that I was heading in something resembling the right direction.
Ten minutes later, after having passed a few spots multiple times and finally stopping to ask where to go, I managed to find the correct terminal. “Shit!” All the seats in the waiting area were completely empty. It was completely deserted with no one in sight. Running both hands through my hair, I did my best not to start screaming at the top of my lungs with frustration. “You didn’t do this… I know you didn’t do this…” I repeated, walking up and down the waiting area as if my pacing would magically give rise to the person I was supposed to be picking up.
Tiring, I sat down putting my head in my hands and closing my eyes. I was starting to get a migraine and the day had barely begun. Checking my watch I realized that we would need to leave the hotel in three hours. The day had barely begun and already I was feeling like complete shit. Just one more thing to add to the list of things that had gone wrong. I seriously hadn’t thought that he would bail out like this.
Standing up, I turned and slowly started trudging back in what I hoped was the direction I had came from. “Joel?” Hearing my name I turned around. “Hey man.” Standing there with bags hanging off his shoulders and smiling in my direction nervously was Tony.
I had never been more happy to see him.
Walking over and hugging him, I silently prayed that he was the uplifting Benji needed.
*
Chapter 11: Fading Whispers of Night
A/N:This is a little different than the other chapters. Due to similarities, you'll see why I grouped all these P.O.V.'s together.
Paul sat up that night staring at the wall. He didn’t notice much of anything, like the fact that he was shivering because he was so cold, or that the candle he had lit had burned out some time ago. Nothing was really penetrating the surface as he sat, left to his thoughts. Hours ago he had been completely enraged. One of his best friends had screwed around with his other friend.
This shouldn’t piss him off. Not in the least bit. They were his friends. If they wanted to hook up and shove one another’s dicks up each others’ asses, that was their choice. It had nothing to do with him. But, it had everything to do with him. It had everything to do with the fact that he was in love with Billy. It had everything to do with the fact that even as wrong and disgusting as it should have been, he had had sex with Billy so many months ago and it had been the single most truthful moment in his entire sad existence. It had been the one true act where he had been able to show his affection for the one person he loved and knew accepted him.
The man he had loved had been with one of his other best friends in some form. Benji. He had confided in Benji and told him everything. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what had compelled him to do so. One act had completely changed his view on how trustworthy Benji was, if he was so easily able to sleep around with people that his best friends loved.
Still, he had left the other’s room near tears. Despite knowing how much Paul loved Billy, even if he was too weak to deal with the consequences, both good and bad, that would come with it, he had cried when Billy had called Paul’s name. Not Benji’s name… Paul’s name.
All thoughts jumbled around in Paul’s head, each attempting to penetrate the surface, but none being quite successful enough to sink in. Finally, eyes started to droop with sleep. With a shake of his head, he attempted to clear the exhaustion from his body, but minutes later his head started to fall forward once again. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be a good day to think about everything. All this sitting and he hadn’t accomplished much thinking in all the hours he had not moved.
Putting his head to the pillow, his mind was still racing, but soon quieted enough for him to drift off.
*
What a lovely day. The sun is shining, sending out it’s fierce rays to stab through the heart of the fog that had dimmed the morning. Slowly, then gradually more quickly, as if a child testing the waters and deciding it is safe, the warmth creeps through the window and pleasantly heats the room.
Everything is starting to come into bloom. Staring out of the window one can see everything. The birds flocking back, dancing to their sweet songs and flitting about. Little by little the snow and ice melt away and the grass pokes it’s green through the soggy ground.
All this beauty is too much. Everything is so hideously perfect in nature. During better times I would sit at the window, my sketchpad in hand and run the smooth charcoal over the pages until various scenes appeared. That’s how I would remember each city as we went on tour. A single still drawing of something outside, or someone casually going about their life. Over time I began associating certain places with these certain images. And at this moment, I can’t recall any of the images I used to identify this place that we stay at by.
I should be worried.
I’m not.
My negligence towards everything has got me reeling. And then thoughts of the night before enter my mind. I haven’t slept at all. Over and over the scene plays out in my head once again. Loneliness, sexual frustration, horniness, a bit of apathy, so many things contributed to last night. And I think I ruined the only stable relationship that I had. All because I still love you, and in the heat of the moment I called out your name. Not his, yours. And he looked up at me, naked and vulnerable. The pain dwelling in those warm brown eyes staring at me was one of the single most intense emotions I had ever seen. Cheeks burned with shame, eyes downcast as he gathered up his things and threw on the bare minimum to make himself presentable. A hand through his shaggy hair. Another look of despair. Slumped shoulders. Quick steps. Door slammed.
I was left lying there with no more words. How do you make something like that better? I learned from you that you don’t.
Moving from the place I have sat on the floor for the past countless hours, my pills call me. Small little prescribed dosages of chemically capsuled happy ensured by doctors and psychiatrists worldwide to do a body good. Paste colored hands unscrew the familiar bottle cap and pop them into a dry mouth that barely manages to swallow them without the water. Gloomy eyes finally move to see what is outside the window.
It’s so beautiful outside. Spring is coming, I’m sure of it. I can feel it already, creeping up too slowly to be happy about. Everything is coming to life.
And I still feel dead inside.
Slowly my limbs take me across the room to answer the phone. It’s ringing, and who would have thought? It’s for me…
*
My eyes open and look around me. Surely enough, I am awake and cannot fall back asleep. I’ve tried turning over a thousand and two times. At least, it seems that many. And I want to scream. So I do.
I open my mouth and close my eyes and scream as loudly as I can. No one comes. No one even shouts to ask if I’m all right. Sighing and rolling over once again, my face hits something on the pillow. Lifting it up to read, it’s a note from Joel. Of course he’s gone. Had he heard me scream he would have come. He always came. Every time.
‘Be back soon.’ How nondescript of him. Opening and closing them, the feeling down not go away. My eyes feel as if they are three times larger than my eye sockets and so completely dry. Cried out. I’m cried out. Last night, I don’t even remember falling asleep. I do remember everything else. I’m beginning to wish I still drank so I could have awoken with the worst hangover of my life. At least that way, I knew that throughout the day, I would feel at least a little better, even if it only was from getting over the hangover.
“Fuck!” I curse for no reason at all. Standing, throwing the covers aside and purposely knocking a number of things from the nightstand near the bed and onto the floor, I make my way to the bathroom. Good. No one’s in there. He’s not in there. I can scrub from myself the scent of him and, if I’m lucky, the memories of last night. I know it doesn’t work that way, but every time I try and pretend it does. Maybe one day some of my problems will wash down the drain along with the soap bubbles. It’s a nice thought.
Head pounding like a jackhammer is drilling as slowly as humanly possible into the side of my head, I think of taking something but decide against it. I’ll deal with the deranged, depressed and borderline suicidal thoughts I’m having right now. I couldn’t do it though, not to Joel. No matter how much I hate everything. Even if the one person I truly love can’t love me back.
Billy is such a lucky fuck. Paul still loves him. Screw him because he’s too blind to see it, and screw Paul for being too much of an ass to admit it to him. They’ll straighten their shit out and live happily ever after. And I, Benji Madden, would be hopelessly alone for all of eternity. Such was my destiny.
After having scalded and scrubbed off numerous layers of skin and the water went cold, I dragged myself out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my waist. Towel still tied around my waist, I went back into Joel’s room and started packing things back up for him. Every new hotel he unpacked, even if we were only staying for a few hours. It was some kind of insane OCD he had about it. Just this once I’d do him the favor of putting it away so he wouldn’t have to run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off when he got back. If I focused hard enough on what it was that I was picking up, the texture, the color of it, and any descriptive detail about it, I could almost block out the little voice in the back of my head, the one screaming as loudly as it could to be heard.
Slowly the water dripped off my back until I started to dry. Still damp in many respects, I felt eyes on me. Not Joel’s. His gaze was less intense, and more comforting. Whoever this person was that was behind me was taking a very careful look at me, a very slow and careful look.
I prayed that it wasn’t Billy and turned around.
*****
Chapter 12: When My Phone Rings
The phone was ringing. Why in the name of fuck would the phone be ringing? Billy looked at the object as if it were performing the most absurd thing he could imagine in his entire life. Like a phone should ring. At least, not for him it shouldn't. It never rang. Who would be calling him? Why would anyone want to call him.
"Hello?" He answered the phone, voice blank of expression, even the impatience he was feeling towards it already. A few seconds of silence and no one was saying anything. "Hello?" Repeating himself once again, Billy stood waiting to at least hear the phone click and someone to hang up, or for the usual prank phone call breathing. "Okay… you know what? I'm not having the greatest fucking day so stop dicking me around. You're either there or you're not." Silence. "Fine. Fuck you, I'm hanging up."
Just as Billy's finger went to apply pressure to the off button, he heard something and lifted the phone back to his ear. "Bill?" Came the voice once again. It was crackly, and static-filled, probably from a cell phone. It distorted the voice enough for him to not recognize exactly who he was talking to. "Bill, are you still there?"
"Yea…"
"Oh great! I wasn't sure if I had gotten the phone number right or not. Do you know that you're the hardest bitch to track down that I've ever met? And I've met some pretty shady fuckers."
"Do I know you?" Billy asked, exasperatedly tapping his fingers on the top of one of the dressers in the overly furnished hotel room. Any patience he may have had was completely gone for this mystery caller.
"Honestly, you don't have any idea, do you?" The reply from the other end came. There was a moment of silence on Billy's part, letting the other know that he really didn't know who was trying to talk to him. All of a sudden, whoever had been on the phone became really nervous and flustered. "Oh. Okay. Okay, sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have called. I'm sorry." A moment later the line went dead.
"What the fuck?" Shaking his head in complete and utter confusion, he gingerly placed the phone back in its cradle. Standing there for a moment he tried to image who the hell would be calling him out of the blue like that. What pissed him off was that the person sounded at least a tad familiar, he just couldn't exactly place where he had heard the voice before. That was going to piss him off for the rest of the day.
Biting his bottom lip he sat back down on the couch. A few moments of gnawing away at his own skin, his eyes lazily glanced at the clock. Might as well start packing. Next city soon. They were always going to a new city. Sighing, he got back up and made his way about the room collecting the few things that had actually made it out of the travel bag he carried with him.
Oh. New city. That reminded him. His next appointment with his shrink would be the next day. What a wonderful thought. He just wasn't in the mood to go and be analyzed by someone who could never actually know him. The whole thing seemed a waste of time. And these pills they had put him on… what good were they doing?
The only thing they seemed to succeed in doing was stressing him out about whether or not he had been consistently taking them at the same time every morning.
*****
Chapter 13: Silent Sorrow
“Hey.” Tony stood in the doorway, bag over his shoulder, smile pulling at the sides of his mouth. For a moment Benji stood there with a quizzical look clouding his features. Soon enough a smile broke out across his face and he wrapped his arms around his friend.
“What are you doing here?” He laughed sheepishly when he pulled away, having gotten his friend more than slightly damp since water was still dripping off his towel clad body. “Oops, sorry about that,” Benji giggled. Despite his happiness at seeing his friend, Tony could tell that his smile didn’t quite reach all the way to his eyes. He'd have to see if he could get him to open up to him later. After all, he had heard and been able to make out most of the conversation between he and Joel the previous night.
“Don’t worry about it. I like to remain shirtless anyway. You know what stickler airports are, all their fucking rules about dress and whatnot. Fuckers don't know the value of a half naked man.” Tony joked putting down his stuff and pulling off his shirt, stuffing it in the front of his bag. Walking across the room and pulling out some cloths, Benji started drying himself with his towel. Swallowing hard and trying not to make it obvious that he was looking away to keep the red tinge from invading his cheeks, “The guys and I have some time off. Haven’t had the chance to see you in awhile. Everyone’s been so fucking busy as of late.” Benji didn’t notice how Tony couldn’t help but gaze a little too long, before turning his eyes way once he had finally mustered up the courage to lay his eyes on his friend.
Having pulled on a black RANCID t-shirt, dickies, combat boots and leaving his long, shaggy hair down and wet, Tony couldn’t help but smile at how good his best friend looked. Couple more thoughts like that and he might have a problem… A few seconds later Joel popped his head in the door. “Well gee whiz Tony, what are you doing here?” He asked in a mock innocent tone, eyes wide and sparkling with a grin plastered on his face.
“Should have known you were behind this,” Benji said with a laugh before throwing two bags at Joel. "Pack your own shit next time you lazy ass." The cell phone in Joel's pocket started to ring. Digging it out and looking at the caller ID he shoved it back from where it had come.
"Looks like it's time to get going. I'm going to round up the others. We'll meet you down at the bus, it's pulling up around back at the bottom level parking lot." A small smile and a wink at Tony that Benji missed by a mile while gathering his things and he was off in search of Paul and Billy to let them know that the next city called.
A few hours later the five men were all on the bus riding towards their next nameless destination, scattered about the small living quarters of the bus. In the entertainment room in back, which could hardly be called so because of it's cramped size, Benji and Tony sat. The television was on, some old movie playing but neither was really watching, but both kept up the appearance of pretending to be interested in what was happening.
"Hey Tony…" Benji started to speak but paused, chewing on his lip rings. Tony caught sight of this out of the corner of his eyes. Getting the feeling that turning his gaze upon Benji would make the other feel vulnerable, he kept looking ahead.
"Yeah, Benj?"
"Nothing… never mind. Sorry." His shoulders slumped and he leaned forward a bit feeling as if the strength and courage had left him. Right now he needed someone to talk to, someone to console him. But breaking down in front of his best friend was weak.
And weak, was not something that Benjamin Madden knew how to do.
*
The chilling effect of sleep had wrapped it's long fingers around Benji. Restlessly he tossed and turned, never waking despite all his motion. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes moved to and fro following after some dream picture. This continued on for some time, eventually, his mouth fell open and he began to talk in his sleep as well, the only action that had been left.
Laying in the bunk directly across from him, Tony had been half asleep thinking to himself until he heard the commotion. At first he dismissed it, until Benji started speaking in his sleep. The words were jumbled and unintelligible but progressively became more clear. Normally he would have laughed it off and turned over just to drift off to sleep, but the tone of his friend's voice worried him.
Quietly getting out of his cramped bed, careful not to wake the others, he sat on the edge of Benji's bed. "Benji?" He whispered, waiting to see if the other would respond. Instead, Benji continued tossing and turning, speaking softly in a wounded tone. "Benji?" Tony shook his friend gently, trying to rouse the other from his troubled sleep.
Seeing that shaking his friend wasn't waking him, he resorted to rubbing Benji's back comfortingly, hoping that the soothing motion would do some good in calming the other. A few minutes later his limbs became still and his lips silent. Slowly he opened his eyes, looking around disoriented and confused. Once his eyes focused on Tony he broke out into a small, forced grin. Whatever he had been dreaming about, he remembered.
"Sorry I woke you up," were the first words to leave his lips.
With a slight sigh and a shake of his head Tony told him not to worry about it. "I was already awake. Just checking to make sure everything was all right."
"Everything's fine. Just had a weird dream is all." Benji turned his gaze away knowing that the other could read his gaze and would know he was lying.
"You can talk to me." Tony said bluntly. Mentally he kicked himself in the ass afraid that it had come out sounding like he was trying to pry. "I mean, if you want to. You know I'll listen. There's not too many things I wouldn't understand." There was silence as Benji fixed his eyes on him silently debating whether or not he should entrust the other.
"I just…" he started before his voice trailed off. He started to sit up and Tony blushed fiercely. He hadn't realized that the entire time he had still been rubbing the other's back soothingly. Immediately, both hands were clasped together and jammed between his knees.
"Sorry…" Tony apologized meekly looking away. The other just smiled and patted his shoulder letting him know it was okay.
"Tony?" Benji questioned after a few minutes of silence between the two, almost as if to check and see if the other was still there.
"Hm?"
"Are you ever afraid that… that, well…" His deep brown eyes lifted and met the others'. "Are you ever afraid that you'll never find someone? You know… the someone that you're supposed to be with," quickly Benji added the, "or whatever?" in an attempt to seem nonchalant.
Tony smiled softly and nodded a little.
"Well… what do you do if you find that person, but… they're in love with someone else?" At that second Benji couldn't feign an air of indifference because his bottom lip started to quiver and his eyes started to mist. Tony wished that he could take all that pain away from his friend and never see a look like that cross his face ever again. The best he could do was reach out and take the other in his arms, rocking him gently. Eventually, he fell asleep from exhaustion.
Tony sat, still rocking him lightly and holding him close. He pressed a kiss on the top of his head before laying him back down. "I really don't know Benji. I'm having the same problem." His whisper seemed to echo in the vast emptiness of the dark.
Smiling sadly he got up and climbed back into his bunk.
*****
Chapter 14: Results May Vary
The bus rocked back and forth, constantly in motion. Motion sickness is a bitch. In the early years of touring, before I had discovered motion sickness pills, I had barely ever gotten sleep. Driving constantly made my stomach tie in thousands of knots. Holding anything down wasn't an option, because if I ate, I knew it would be paying me a visit again later.
Several doctors had assured me that the motion sickness pills wouldn't counteract with the medication I'm taking. Perhaps it's paranoia that prevents me from taking them despite what I've been told. Biting my bottom lip, I was lying in the top bunk. The others didn't know that I had stopped taking them. They didn't know that I would lie staring at the ceiling nine nights out of ten because I was trying not to be sick. I had asked for a top bunk purposely. The harder it was to get to the bathroom, the less likely I was to let myself go and throw up. We won't revisit that chapter in my history.
Being awake and trying to occupy my mind without waking the others up, I almost wished that I had stayed in the entertainment room in back. At least that way I would have been amused with something. In the vast silence I could hear one of the guys tossing and turning in their sleep. Gradually they began to speak in a very low tone, but my ears were still as alert as ever since the affects of sleep had not yet confused my senses. It was Benji, and soon Tony sat comforting him. They spoke in hushed voices, but I could pick out everything they said.
Another knot began to form in my stomach, but not because of the swaying of the bus as it brought us closer and closer to the next city. "Are you ever afraid that… that, well…" There was a slight pause as Benji spoke. He cleared his throat and began once again. "Are you ever afraid that you'll never find someone? You know… the someone that you're supposed to be with," he was quick to add the "or whatever" in an attempt to sound as blasé about it as possible, but I could pick out the concern in his voice, and I was willing to bet that Tony could as well.
There was no response that I could hear, so I assumed that he nodded when Benji continued.
"Well… what do you do if you find that person, but… they're in love with someone else?" There was a sigh, not of relief, but of one letting out a breath they had been holding. Sniffling began and there was movement. Slowly I peered over the edge of my bunk and saw Benji resting in Tony's arms. The dark clouded my vision, but I would bet there were tears in his eyes. I felt horrible for Benji. I'm such an asshole. My best friend, and he's been in front of my eyes the whole time. Doing everything for me. Looking after me. Taking care of me. Helping me. And I didn't notice the one thing that was tearing him up was being so close to me without actually being with me.
Benji had begun breathing deeply, eyes closed. "I really don't know Benji. I'm having the same problem," Tony whispered. And I knew that he wasn't just talking to, but about the man laying in his arms.
The knots in my stomach doubled. When had I become so oblivious to everything?
*
I promised. I know that I promised to never do this again. I promised myself and I promised Benji. I promised my family. I promised that I wouldn't hurt myself anymore. And I haven't. I've kept with that. I haven't hurt myself. No razors, no random pieces of metal, no paper towel dispensers, nothing cool to press against my skin and give me the release.
I've hurt everyone else though. I don't even mean to, but I do. I say the wrong thing or I think the wrong thing then I do the wrong thing. And someone always ends up getting hurt. At least before, I was only hurting myself. I kept things to myself. Don't worry others, you can solve things on your own. You can solve them, or at least make them feel better.
Feel better. I want to feel better.
Talking hasn't helped. But do I ever really say the things I need to say? I don't think I do. I'd probably just hurt more people. Hurt everyone. Everyone is always hurting. Hurting because of me?
The cold linoleum of the bus floor is biting. Shiver creeps its way up my back. But I can't stop shivering, and soon my whole body is shaking. Eyes squeezed tightly shut. Stop thinking. Just breath. Stop thinking. Just breath. Stop thinking just…
And my eyes snapped open and look around the bathroom, my vision dingy from having kept my eyes closed so tightly. No, I tell myself silently, no. Don't think about it. So I won't. I won't let myself. I look down.
My arms. Laying in my lap. A t-shirt reveals all the marks that I've decorated my skin with. Memories of everyone had started to fade. So many I could trace with my finger and not remember the reason, not remember the cause of the metal or the glass or the whatever it was pressed to my skin. I used to know so clearly. So clearly every cut I had made. Every drop of blood that had left my body. Every euphoric rush that had gone through my veins.
Something. I have to do something. Hands pressed so tightly against my eyes until it hurts. If I push hard enough, maybe I won't ever have to see again. I can go blind. Blind to myself and blind to the world. My hands start to shake and I can't make them stop. I have to do something. Jumping up I throw open the medicine cabinet and harshly brush from the shelves every container. Grab the little orange bottle.
Maybe I should give them to Joel. Perhaps they'll work better for him. He'd make sure and take them at the same time every day. And in four to six weeks they would work. Perhaps then he wouldn't stay up at night crying to himself. So many nights he cries and he cries and I know it's him, it's not Paul and it's not Benji, I can tell the difference just don't ask me how. And I can picture him in my mind, tears streaming down his face and his eyes bloodshot. But I just lay in my bunk. I never go down and try and comfort him, that would be the right thing to do. But we all know what kind of history I have of doing the right thing…
The orange bottle feels slick in my hands and I'm not sure why. I hate you. I hate every fucking pill that I have to swallow. I hate how I'm told they'll make me feel better, but all they make me feel is drowsy or something I can't describe. I hate you. Fuck you, you stupid fucking bottle of prescribed drugs… To be swallowed dry because I just don't care enough to grab a bottle of something, but are best swallowed with water so they slide down more easily and hit my stomach where they will be digested and absorbed into my blood stream and the effects should be felt in four to six weeks if taken consecutively. The label mocks me, do not mix with alcohol, it will counteract the effects and who knows what will happen but it won't be something good, that's what they always tell you but how do you know unless you take it with alcohol to find out, after all, results will vary from person to person as will all side effects... And it tells me the do's and the don'ts and to inform my doctor immediately if I break into a rash or my tongue starts to swell or if I have heart problems or who the fuck knows what else, because then perhaps the medicine isn't doing what it's supposed to. But shouldn't it tell me to contact my doctor if the fucking prescription isn't working, but I'm not a doctor I'm only a patient, so I wouldn't know if it was working or not. It's not like I know what I'm feeling or anything. Fuck you!
I don't realize I've thrown the bottle until I see the cap pop off and all the pills fall to the floor.
I don't realize I'm screaming until I fall to the floor and my eyes are watering and my throat is on fire.
My eyes are sting and my hands are shaking and I rock myself back and forth trying to stop everything from happening around me. And I think I'm having a nervous breakdown.
**
Chapter 15: Broken
Cold clammy hands covered a sickly pale face. The room seemed to spin around Billy as he rocked himself back and forth on the cold linoleum tiled floor crying to himself wishing that everything would just stop. His mangle cry had pierced the silence of the bus like a knife, jolting every occupant suddenly awake from their sleep.
A light clicked on in the bunk area but nothing registered with Billy other than his harsh breathing and every droplet that ran down his painfully beautiful cheeks until it hit his lips and left the taste of salt. Benji, knowing his best friend's scream, had come running and stood in the doorway observing the crumpled heap of a person for a moments time before dropping to his knees. Gently he laid a hand upon the other to let him know he was there. There was nothing from Billy that showed he was even aware that Benji was there.
Tony, Joel and Paul soon stood in the doorway looking on wondering what had happened. Everyone couldn't help but notice the crack in the mirror, the uncapped amber bottle laying on the floor with its contents spilled everywhere, nor can they ignore a sobbing Billy with his head dug into his knees as he rocked back and forth. With a wave of his hand, Benji ushered everyone out of the bathroom. Reluctantly they left, Joel helping Tony and Paul along. As soon as the two were alone Benji licked his lips and cleared his throat a bit. "Billy…" he whispered trying to get some kind of response from the other.
More sobs filled his ears. "Billy, are you okay? Do you need me to get you anything?" Finally the other shook his head no. Hesitantly he looked up at the other with puffy eyes, wet cheeks and a runny nose. Shakily, he ran a hand through his stringy black hair attempting to stop his hiccupping and silent his sobs.
"S-sorry," came the barely audible mumble of a reply.
"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it." Benji offered a half-hearted lopsided smile to let the other know that no one was angry with him. "Were you freaking out just now or…?" He lightly prodded hoping to find out what had just happened inside the small bathroom while the others were sleeping.
"I d-don't… they're not working." Billy admitted frustration evident on his face as he wiped away one final tear. "They're just not working at all." Benji raised an eyebrow not knowing what his friend meant. Dismissively, Bill waved a hand at the floor where the pills lay strewn every which was across the floor. "They aren't doing anything. I don't feel any better." His statement ended with sniffles and a strangled sigh.
Benji was silent for a moment before he nodded. "There are other prescriptions. I'm sure that the shri… you psychiatrist can get you something else," he tried to sound encouraging but he had a feeling that this was going to be hopeless.
Raising his cerulean eyes to meet Benji's warm brown ones, he shook his head. "I don't want anymore pills." Billy's voice started to crack. "I don't want to have to take a fucking cocktail of medication. I just want everything to be the way it was…" Slowly he crumpled in onto himself once again, shrinking into a small ball.
In one soothing motion, Benji took Billy into his arms and kissed the top of his head, gently holding him. "Everything will be okay. It just needs some time."
"No!" The word flew from the younger man's lips like a whip cracking at the air. "No," voice started trembling again and he repeated it over and over again. "I don't think they are." Billy sniffled looking up at the other. "I don't think anything is ever going to be like it was before. I feel dead."
Tony silently listened from outside the door nodding to himself. So this was who had upset him so. Billy. Benji was in love with Billy. Sadly he smiled to himself knowing that being so close to Billy and watching his friend, the one he loved, crumbling before him would leave him distressed though he would not dare to show it in front of Billy. With bittersweetness he would go running to Tony, broken heart in hand hoping to get answers from the one person that would be able to make him feel better.
With a shake of his head, Tony returned to his bunk and crawled underneath the covers. There was no way he could even begin to compete with Billy. Someone else, then he may have had a fighting chance. But Billy Martin? God just wasn't fair.
*
Chapter 16: Nothing But Darkness Below Me
I'm standing on the edge. Arms spread out on both sides of me. My face is tilted upwards, eyes closed. The wind whips my hair from my eyes and I stand on the edge. Teetering back and forth. Always teetering back and forth.
So this is what it has come to.
This is what all the events in my life have been leading up to these past few years.
And I stand on the edge. Not courageous enough to look down but not strong enough to look behind me. Below me is everything about myself that I hate. My insecurities, my naivety, my selfishness, the cutting, the overwhelming emotions of distress and loneliness and worthlessness. Behind me is everything that I could have but feel that I do not deserve. Happiness, a bright future, or a future at all for that matter, love, intellect, confidence and a strong sense of belonging somewhere in this world.
What is there to do other than teeter on the edge? I feel I am better than one, but not deserving of the other… so what is there to do other than teeter back and forth? Moments of strength cause me to step slowly backwards but are eventually met by moments of weakness so I gradually slip forward. The moments of weakness are starting to outnumber my strength once again.
Is there a point to trying; if all my life has been for these past few years is one struggle after the next. The struggle is an internal one, not seen upon the surface. At least, not until my cutting began. The physical manifestation of everything that was wrong, the showing of my teetering on the edge.
For a while I felt that I was clear. I thought I had stepped back. And slowly, so slowly, I had begun to peak over my shoulder and allow myself to see all of the good, all of the things that people tell me I could attain if only I would try. Do they not realize that I always have been trying? But forces greater than myself, the things within my mind, soon clouded the distant hope and blinded me and I slipped forward once again.
Now I'm standing on the edge once again. My arms are open wide, my face is tilted upwards, and my eyes are closed. I'm too afraid to open them for fear of what I will see. Will I fall forward into everything I have been working so hard to overcome? Or will I have the strength to step back and face everything head on.
This is what it has all come to, despite the outcome.
This is what all the events in my life have lead up to, and there is nothing I can do to change that. So I stand on the edge. Not courageous enough to look down but not strong enough to look behind me.
And although I feel all these things, sometimes I can even physically feel these things, I don't tell you. You sit across from me in a soundproofed room of a hotel in some city and stare at me. In turn, I stare at the clock, counting the minutes passed and those left before I will be able to leave.
Looking at me you sigh slightly and take down some notes on the pad. I know what you're thinking. You're disappointed in me. You thought I was doing so well, you thought I was finally opening up and truly starting to get somewhere. I hate the fact that you can see that lately for every foot I have tried to climb out of this whole, it seems that I have slid down two.
Your eyes lock with mine, and you nod seeing that I am not going to be opening conversation today where we left off last time or with some event that has occurred. I know that Benji talked to you. I know that he did, how could he not have? He's so worried about me, but it's not like I haven't given him a thousand reasons not to be. "Benji tells me that you don't think your medication is working." Sitting there, unblinking, I keep my gaze locked with yours. "Why do you feel that way?"
"It's not working," I say as flatly as possible. I feel like complete shit. I know I look it too. The cloths I am wearing are just ridiculous. They're not even mine, they're Benji's. I don’t know why I had the sudden urge to play dress up. I think I just wanted to pretend to be someone other than myself at the moment and putting on other people's cloths helps me do that. A huge black MADE hoodie practically swallows me and I'm swimming in a pair of his black dickies. The belt just barely helps to keep them up. But maybe if I can just pretend to be him, I can pretend to have that outward toughness that he wants everyone to think is him, so that way no one can get close.
"And why would you say it's not working?" There's no backing down. You're not going to stop until I say something more. That much is clear. You're going to keep asking ludicrous questions until I say what it is that you already know.
With a sigh, I move a strand of hair from my face. "I don't feel any better than I did two months ago, three months ago. I did for a little while but it stopped."
"How do you know it stopped?" What the fuck kind of question is that? But it's one I knew you'd ask.
"Because I almost gave in and did something really fucking stupid last night, that's how I know it's stopped." I take a breath and pull my stare away from you and back to the clock. You did this on purpose. You piss me off to get reactions, because when I'm so wound up the truth just flows from my lips like water from a burst dam. It's not fair but you know that's how it works. Sometimes I hate you for it.
I hate you right now for making me admit that I am weak, that I am so weak that I almost cut again. I almost gave in to the desire that plagues the back of my mind. It went away for a while, but it has returned, whispering its wonders when no one else is around.
Sometimes I wonder. What would it be like? What would it be like if I had succeeded that night so many months ago? What if they hadn't found me in time and my life slowly leaked from my veins until my lips turned blue and my heart stopped beating? What if I had never known Paul's touch, even if it had meant little to him? What if I had never known how truly Benji cared for me? Surely I would have gone to hell, if there truly is a hell. Or perhaps I would wonder a spirit world only to be reincarnated and rejoined with the souls of Benji, Joel and Paul once again. Maybe I would get it right that time.
Or maybe this was my second chance? Maybe I had been through this all before and I had the chance to be strong this time, I had the chance to live it over again and make something of it. I'm not very defined when it comes to my religious beliefs. I used to have a clear definition of heaven and hell and the things that got you there. But now, I'm not sure what I believe, just that I want to believe in something more, some greater purpose to all things that happen.
I snap from my thoughts when I realize that you're talking to me. Eyes glance quickly to the clock and I realize that our time is done for today. Done until next week when you fly out to the next tour location, no matter what city it is that we're in. Who remembers? I most certainly don't.
"William, for next week I want you to think about something. I want you to think about what is your most hurtful defense mechanism. It could be lying to others about being all right when you're really not, or something to that extent. I'll see you next week." You smile gently and get up to leave, capping your pen and putting the notebook back in your bag.
My most hurtful defense mechanism?
To myself or to others?
I know the most frightening, perhaps that makes it the most hurtful as well. It's closing myself off inside of my mind with nothing other than my thoughts and the things that echo in the back of my mind. The things that tell me how useless I am and how weak and ugly and warped and hopeless. It's the one place that no one else can reach me.
It's the one place that will always cause me to feel dead inside and dying on the outside. I look up, maybe I can tell you this before you leave. But I'm sitting on the couch, not having moved from where I've been this whole time and you're already ten minutes out the door.
Time passes so quickly when you're trapped inside yourself, clawing to get out, but failing miserably.
My feet come out from under me, reeling towards the edge.
*
Chapter 17: Slow Motion
I have been sitting in this same spot on the bus for what seems like forever. Perhaps that is because I haven't moved since I've gotten back from my appointment. The entire five hours, twenty two minutes and thirty nine seconds have been spent just perching like this. The hoodie I borrowed from Benji is pulled over my head shading my tearstained cheeks from the world, the long sleeves covering the arms mutilated by fading scars… And at the moment they hurt just as much as they had the seconds that I made them and they itch like they're still healing though the have long since closed up. Everything seems so much louder then it is. The television is on in the entertainment room but it sounds as if the speaker is pressed to my ear and the volume is turned all the way up. Covering my ears do not help, it seems to multiply the sound and cause it to echo against the walls of my head. Someone coughs near the front of the bus and it sounds like the most god awful nails on chalkboard kind of sound.
Blinking a few times I wonder if these are the first whispers of going insane. A few minutes of heightened sensitivity and I feel like I'm about ready to drag my nails down the side of the bus until my nails break and bleed and just as I raise my hand and press it to the wall everything goes back to normal. The television sounds faint in the background, whoever is up front can barely be heard, and my head does not feel as if it is filled with so much static.
A deep sigh leave my throat and I shake my head a little raising my hand to my face and wiping at my eyes before stretching and giving sweet release to my tense muscles… five hours, thirty four minutes and eight seconds after I had sat like this in my bunk. I feel something I haven't felt in a while as my stomach tights itself into a knot begging for food. I try to search my mind and remember the last time I have eaten but can't really be sure of it. Slowly I stand and make my way to the front of the bus to grab a water and pickles because I don't feel like looking for anything else and I don't have to make pickles. Grabbing the bottle and the jar of pickles I place them on the counter grabbing a cup because I wanted some ice.
Behind me a hear someone clear their throat. I don't bother to turn around. If they need me they'll say something or they can wait until I turn around and face them. I pour some of the water into the cup and put the bottle with what is left into the pocket of the hoodie. With the cup and the jar of pickles in my hand I turn around to see not just one but three worried faces staring back at me. For a moment I feel so uncomfortable I want to push through them and run back to the safety of my bunk. Trapped, up against the kitchenette of the bus I look from person to person… Benji, Joel and Paul in that order. Biting my lip I just stand there looking waiting for them to say something and the uneasiness in my stomach makes me want to be sick. A confrontation that I'd rather not be part of is about to take place and I know it.
"Whatever it is, just say it," leaves my lips before I knew I was even thinking the words. It takes a moment for me to even distinguish that that was indeed my voice. Not knowing what else to do I take a sip from the cup in my hands but the cold water bites at the back of my throat and doesn't offer the refreshing feeling it usually does. Perhaps it is because the knot in my throat is making it hard to swallow.
A look is exchanged between the three. Whatever it is they have to say, none of them wants to tell me. Silently they are debating who should be the one to speak. After a few minutes of silence Joel steps forward a little and clears his throat. "Listen Bill, we're going to play two more shows and then take a break for a bit."
For a moment I think that I must be making this up in my mind. Two shows? There are most certainly a lot more then two shows left on this tour. "What… what are you talking about? We have at least eighteen left." There is another awkward silence and I want to run forward and shake them because every second that ticks by is one more I go through without an answer and this confusion is upsetting me. I don't have the energy for this.
"We're going to take a break, reschedule the last leg of the tour. Right now…" Joel pauses and Paul cuts him off.
"We're really worried about you. We just think this would be best until things get settled back down."
There is nothing that comes to mind. Nothing that I could say. Silently I stand there looking at each of them not believing what I've just heard. My gaze turns towards Benji who has yet to say anything. "Benji… tell them this isn't necessary." The sadness that clouds his face as he turns away from me and stares at his feet tells me all he has to say.
"I don't know what else to do Billy. After last night maybe things aren't as all right as we thought. Maybe you're not ready to be doing this again. And then we asked your psychiatrist what she thought and…"
"You fucking what?" My words are like daggers and I know that I should stop. Bite my tongue and prevent the venom from leaving my lips and biting their skin but I can't. The cup in my hand is thrown again the wall, pieces falling at my feet and the water spraying everyone. Wet and angered I stand before them placing the jar on the counter before I throw that as well, whatever dripping from my form. "I can't fucking believe any of you." My voice falters a little as I speak, barely able to keep up with what I'm saying. "I can finish this tour, there is no reason for me not to."
"Look at you…" Joel's eyes trail over my form and I realize that I've started crying, the tears dripping from my chin onto my neck. "You can't do this Billy… this is too much for you. We don't want to see you get hurt."
"How dare you." My voice drops dangerously low. "How dare you come in here and fucking tell me what I can and cannot do." There is no way they are going to change their minds and I can tell by the stony expressions that have taken over their faces. "Fuck all of you! Go ahead, just take away the one fucking thing that I can do right now. Just go the fuck ahead. I don't even care." Swiftly I go to push past them and succeed but my movement is hindered by a hand on my arm. Violently I slap it away, throwing it from me. Now on the other side of them I turn.
"Don't any of you fucking talk to me. I don't want to look at any of you." I spat the words and when they try and protest I continue not able to stop myself. "You," my finger goes up pointing towards Paul. "You are a fucking coward." My voice drops on the last word. "I fucking hate cowards." Then to Joel, "And you… don't fucking pretend to know what's going on. You have no idea. You have no god damn idea what has happened and what I'm going through!" Then lastly I turn one final time, "And you… don't act like you're a fucking saint just because you were there for me a couple times. Well fuck you. Fuck all of you. I don't need any of you. You can do the last two shows your fucking self with one guitarist." I stormed towards my bunk before stopping one last time and throwing over my shoulder, "on second thought, you can finish the whole fucking thing with one guitarist, the whole fucking tour, the whole fucking band!"
Passing the bunks I shoved myself in the bathroom and locked the door behind me, slamming it violently before breaking everything I could possibly get my hands on.
With knocking on the door, shouts for me to unlock the door, broken everything surrounding me, my lungs tight, my vision blurred, my mind a mess, my body pressed into the dark corner I realized everything wasn't okay.
Nothing was ever okay.
Nothing would ever be okay.
I collapsed onto the floor, body racking with sobs, when I realized that I had stained Benji's hoodie.
More to come! Review in the meantime, it might make me get off my ass and move a little more quickly. ;o)