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Post by brokenwings on Nov 25, 2005 19:36:38 GMT -5
Hahahaha, RJ, I know. Lol, I actually forgot about all those holidays. -Is dumb- -Cheers- HOORAY FOR AMUSINGNESS! Yeah, I reckon you should post it! =)
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Post by *Lore~Lowell* on Nov 26, 2005 18:35:35 GMT -5
Sorry this took a little while, and then I FORGOT that I'd promised to update it....*slaps self on forehead* Thanks, Karla, for reminding me that I have peeps to please. *************** PT.4 (?)
Billie exhaled, smoked streaming from his mouth and rising into the air. He leaned back against the brick wall, knocking his head against it and not caring about the slight pain it caused. He stared at the dark nighttime sky sightlessly.
Doesn’t that bastard get it? the small man thought to himself, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette. How the hell am I supposed to tell him? He closed his eyes, cutting himself off from the sky and the dirty alley he was standing in. His mind was racing with thoughts and anxieties.
Mike was so insistent on knowing what was wrong with him. Billie Joe had no idea how the bassist had been able to see that there was a problem. He thought he’d been able to hide it pretty well. How is he able to see right through me?
But Mike just didn’t get it. Billie couldn’t tell him, he couldn’t tell Tré…hell, he couldn’t even tell his wife. Not only that, he had no fucking idea what was going on. He was still trying to figure it out, and Mike pestering him about it really didn’t help his mind at all.
A sudden thought flew into Billie’s mind. Shit, he wondered, I hit him, didn’t I? He stared blankly at the hand that’d done the deed, as if it were something that hadn’t been on his body before. Make a record, BJ, the musican thought sarcastically. This is the first time you’ve punched your best friend since you’ve met him.
“Godammit,” Billie muttered, smacking his head against the wall again and throwing away the butt of his cigarette. He snapped to attention when he heard a small clink from somewhere down in the alley. His green eyes skimmed over the darkness, searching for an explanation. When it remained silent, he looked away, but then a quiet crash echoed to his ears.
“Hello?” he called to the empty space. There was no response, so Billie guessed it must’ve been a cat or something. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to leave the alley, but a voice stopped him.
“Don’t move.”
The black-haired man froze. He slowly turned around to see a tattered thug standing only ten feet away, beady eyes glaring. It wasn’t the thug that intimidated Billie, though, it was the gun pointed straight at his heart.
“Okay,” Billie said carefully, taking his hands out of his pockets slowly and holding them up, showing he had no weapon. “What do you want?” The thug took a few steps closer, and Billie Joe’s leg twitched slightly, as if urging him to bolt, which he really felt like doing. The gun was still level with the muscle that was currently pounding too fast for comfort.
“Gimme your wallet,” the large thug ordered, flicking the gun and causing Billie to start in apprehension. “Now, you little bastard!” His finger jerked on the trigger slightly, and for a second Billie Joe actually thought he was going to die.
“I…I don’t have it with me,” Billie said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. It was really hard to do when faced with the muzzle of a gun. The thug rolled his eyes and shifted his footing.
“Then gimme money,” he said impatiently. “Watch, jewelry, anything! Just gimme it.” Billie slowly slipped his watch from his slender wrist, his eyes still on the gun. He held it out, and the thug snatched it from his fingers, inspecting it before stuffing it in his pocket. He then caught sight of a glimmer on Billie Joe’s ring finger. He pointed with the gun again, nearly giving the small man a panic attack.
“Gimme that,” he demanded. Billie looked down at what the thug had been pointing at. His wedding ring. Swallowing tightly, Billie slid the ring from his finger and held it out for the thug to take. Another inspection, and the object that defined one of the biggest steps in Billie’s life disappeared from his sight.
“Gimme something else,” the thug ordered. “Now!”
“I don’t…have anything else,” Billie Joe replied shakily. The thug moved forward again, a feral glint in his black eyes. Billie reflexively tried moving back, but the thug caught up with him and smacked him on the head with the gun, the metal nose cutting a gash on the guitarist’s temple. Billie stumbled into the wall, feeling blood running down the side of his face.
Before he knew what had happened, the thug had jumped him and was beginning to strike him with curled fists and booted feet, knocking the breath from Billie’s lungs. Billie Joe curled up in an attempt to protect himself. When he glanced up, he saw not the thug, but the face he most feared, the features twisted in a snarl of contempt, the eyes gleaming with a cruel fury. His heart gave a great gallop of fear, and then he just couldn’t take it anymore.
Skittering back, Billie got to his feet and bolted down the alley, towards the street. He heard the click of the gun, and then a loud “BANG!” echoed in the still air. Billie nearly faltered at the sound, but he kept going. A few more loud shots from the gun, none of them hitting him, luckily, and Billie Joe emerged out on the sidewalk. He didn’t stop there, though.
Panting, heart hammering in his chest, he kept running. He’d walked a long way from the hotel, but he didn’t stop running until he reached it. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins when he slowed to a stop at the hotel entrance. He glanced over both shoulders, as if the horrifying face of the only one he feared would be only a step behind him.
He was shaking like a leaf in a storm as he stepped through the door and marched through the lobby with long, brisk strides, ignoring the stares of everyone around him. He knew how he looked: beat up, blood running down the side of his face. He didn’t care. He needed the man he was supposed to be angry at and nothing was going to stop him.
Instead of going up the elevator, Billie opened the door to the stairs and hopped up them two at a time, his panting breath echoing in the stairwell. When he’d reached his floor, he all but ran down the hall, over the fine plush rug and to the room he, Mike and Tré were sharing. He fumbled with his pockets, trying to find the key card, but he then realized that he’d left it inside the room.
Billie pounded on the door, his breathing still shaky and his whole body trembling. It took what seemed forever for someone to answer the door. Mike’s face appeared in an expression of determination and anger at first, but then it melted into horror when he saw what Billie looked like.
“Holy shit, what the hell happened?” he asked, grabbing Billie Joe’s hand and pulling him into the room. He tried to take a look at the large gash on Billie’s head, but then the smaller man simply collapsed against him, still shaking violently. Mike was forced to give up his attempt at inspecting his friend’s injuries and hold him up.
“Mike? What’s―fuck!” Tré suddenly exclaimed, and the drummer was at his bandmates’ sides in an instant. “What the hell happened to him? Billie, you okay, man?” Billie Joe silently shook his head, his brow pressed against Mike’s shoulder.
“Help me, Tré,” the bassist ordered, and Tré ducked beneath one of Billie’s arms, taking half of the smaller man’s weight. Together, the two of them led Billie Joe to the bed, where they sat him down. Mike sat down next to him, rubbing his friend’s back and trying to still the furious shaking in the slender body. “Get the medical shit,” he demanded, and Tré scurried into the bathroom in his haste. The sounds of bangs and clatters wafted through the hotel.
Estelle, who had been wakened by the adults’ voices and the noise Tré was creating in the bathroom, sat up and looked around in confusion. If this kind of stuff continued, Mike thought to himself, my daughter’s never going to be able to get a full night’s sleep.
“Daddy?” she murmured. Her eyes then landed on Billie’s hunched, trembling form. She instantly got up. “Uncle Billie! Daddy, is he okay? Why isn’t he moving?” She grasped Billie Joe’s arm and shook it gently, as if trying to rouse him from sleep. He only turned his face away from her, his eyes closed, his breathing coming in harsh gasps. Stella turned frightened eyes to her father, still gripping her godfather’s arm in small fingers.
“D-Daddy…?” she whispered, tears riding on her voice. Mike gently unlatched her hands from around Billie’s bicep and gave her a kiss.
“He’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he whispered soothingly. “Go sit down somewhere and try not to get in the way, alright, baby? It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Estelle nodded, then went to the desk sitting in the corner and pulled herself up into the chair. She sat on her knees, starting to suck her thumb again, watching as her father leaned back over to Billie Joe, talking softly to him.
Tré suddenly came bursting from the bathroom, his arms full of cleaning alcohol, bandages, wet cloths, and other such supplies. He dumped them onto the bed and wordlessly sat down on Billie’s other side as Mike sifted through the pile of miscellaneous medical things. It seemed as if Tré had opened up a cabinet and swept everything in it into his arms.
“What happened?” the drummer was whispering to Billie, gingerly rubbing the smaller man’s back in a soothing pattern. Mike sat up again, holding a cloth and a bottle of cleaning alcohol.
“We can’t ask that now, Tré,” the blond-haired man said, dousing the cloth with a little of the alcohol. “He needs to calm down first before he tells us. Otherwise he’ll have a panic attack.” He pressed the cloth gently to a rather large scrape on Billie’s arm.
“So…we just sit here? Look at him, Mike!” Tré said insistently.
“I see it,” Mike replied softly. “But right now, just be here for him.”
“I’m…in the room, you know,” Billie gasped quietly. “You can stop…talking about me like I’m not here.” Mike sighed and lifted his gaze from the cut he was cleaning.
“Sorry, man,” he whispered. “Are you ready to tell us what happened?” Billie Joe opened his eyes and stared at the floor through hazy vision, still breathing hard.
“Mugged,” he whispered. “In an alley.”
Mike pressed his lips together while Tré uttered a violent curse, something that sounded like “Fucking jackasses!”
“What did he do to you?” the bassist asked while Tré continued to mutter obsceneties and threats beneath his breath. Billie let out a long, heavy sigh, as if trying to drain all the tenseness from his body. It didn’t exactly work despite his efforts.
“He…had a gun,” Billie Joe mumbled, closing his eyes again. “He almost shot me. He b-…beat me, too.” The small man opened his fist, his slender fingers uncurling to lie open on his lap. “He took my wedding ring.” His voice was small and strained, filled with the loss of such an important symbol of his life being gone. Mike pursed his lips again, glanced at Tré, who seemed to be trying to control his ire, and gently started cleaning the cut on Billie’s head again.
There was silence for a few moments. And then a voice broke the silence.
“It’s people like this,” Tré said, his blue eyes shining with fury and his body shaking, “that make me fucking SICK. It’s people like this who do that―” he gestured to Billie’s injuries, “―to good beings just to get a couple bucks. Because they’re fucking greedy. They only care about themselves. It’s people like this that make me want to STRANGLE them, just so we can try to live in a world where we don’t need to be afraid of other people stealing our stuff and beating the shit out of us just because they can.” Everyone else in the room had fallen completely still, watching the drummer ramble until he was done, and then watching him get up and start pacing the room.
Billie swallowed, then hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
Mike threw the cloth down. “What makes you think you should say sorry?” he asked. “None of this was your fault.”
“Not for this,” Billie Joe replied softly. “For…for hitting you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve never hit you before, Mikey…and the fact that I did…it kind of scares me. I don’t want to be that type of person. The type…” He gulped before continuing. “The type that are like the guy who mugged me tonight. The type that are like…” He trailed off, but both of the other two men in the room knew what name he’d been about to utter.
“You…you should get some sleep, buddy,” Tré mumbled, halting his pacing and running a hand through his spiky brown hair. “We’re heading back home tomorrow. It’s gonna be a long day.” Billie nodded wordlessly, then stood up with some help from Mike and removed his shoes and his jacket. Still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he climbed beneath the covers and turned towards the wall, falling silent and still.
Mike stared at his friend’s form for a moment before going to Estelle and lifting her in his arms. He kissed her on the cheek and gently laid her back down on the blankets on the floor. “It’s alright, sweetie,” he whispered soothingly. “Go back to sleep now.” Stella nodded and closed her eyes, her thumb still in her mouth. Mike gave her one more kiss on the forehead.
When he looked back up, Tré was standing silently by the bathroom, staring into space. The drummer snapped to attention when Mike straightened. “We should probably get some sleep, too,” Tré said softly. “Tomorrow will be long.”
“No doubt,” Mike whispered. “No doubt.” ************ Yay! Hope ya liked it.
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Post by [...whatsername3...] on Nov 26, 2005 18:41:57 GMT -5
azhh sdfjsdkljf. sdfjslkjrelkjre. That was AAAWEEESOMEEEE.... I figured out that he was going to be mugged in the beginning when he was in the alley... AND.. I just realized.. that fits in with him getting mugged in 2001 (or whenever it was..) excellent.. I can only wait until the next update =)
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Post by whatsername on Nov 26, 2005 18:48:32 GMT -5
OMFG!!! It's STEVE!! Billie couldn't have been mugged by anyone else, could he have?
And he took his wedding ring.....that's really sad. It really is. Pisses me off, too. But I'm sure you have a fascinating plan on how he gets it back.
Atleast they're going back home....good thing, right? Poor Stella, caught in the middle of all this. She's gonna have nightmares!
Makes me wish you were gonna put you know who I'm talking about into the story. That would have been interesting, especially seeing that persons reactions to what the hell is going on. *shudders* Scary.
Anyway, it was amazing ofcourse, can't wait for the next update!!
xoxo, Karla
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Post by [...whatsername3...] on Nov 26, 2005 18:51:43 GMT -5
wait.. COULD it be steve?! That thought didn't even occur to me!! but that would be interesting..
but..but.. ISN'T HE SUPPOSED TO BE ROTTING AWAY IN JAIL?!? **worries for everyone's safety cause STEVE IS ON THEE LOOSE!!**
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Post by whatsername on Nov 26, 2005 18:55:20 GMT -5
"He glanced over both shoulders, as if the horrifying face of the only one he feared would be only a step behind him."
Um, yeah. I'm pretty sure it's Steve.
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Post by [...whatsername3...] on Nov 26, 2005 18:57:14 GMT -5
Oh. Yeah. You are probably right. *dumb face* dflkerelkj now I can't wait to find out what happens with EVIL ROTTING STEVE!
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Post by *Lore~Lowell* on Nov 26, 2005 19:05:33 GMT -5
Well.....actually, it was just a regular ol' thug. The fact that he was beat up by this guy simply brought back memories, so instead of seeing some guy he doesn't know beating him up, he saw Steve instead. He sort of had a flashback right in the middle of getting the shit kicked out of him. But......Abby's right........he just hasn't come yet......*creepy music in the background* P.S.: Karla, who do you mean by "you know who I'm talking about"? I'm stupid and/or slow.
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Post by whatsername on Nov 26, 2005 19:08:11 GMT -5
Ah, now Billie's delusional too. Not good, lol. Guess bad things like that bring up those bad memories.....poor Biwwie.
Ally, think for a second, who were we talking about when you wanted to know if you could borrow a certain character that already resides in the Oblivious series?
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Post by [...whatsername3...] on Nov 26, 2005 19:10:01 GMT -5
HEY!! Can I start a corner club for this story?? (lol I know you just updated today, but..) I would feel oh-so cool! (lol) please?? **gets items ready for corner club**
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