Status: Completed :D
Out for Blood: A Billie Joe Story
Paint
My father buys two cans of black paint and two cans of red paint. We drive home and get started on the room, moving everything to the middle of the room and covering everything. He starts painting a wall red and I start painting a wall black.
"What kind of stuff are we gonna write," my father asks. I shrug.
"I don't know, whatever comes to mind," I reply quietly.
"So why did you wanna help me with this?" I want you to leave me alone.
"I thought it would be fun." He looks over at me.
"Is it?" I smile a little.
"Yeah." We finish with the walls (with the help of ladders) and go downstairs to wait for it to dry. The can says it takes an hour to dry, so I guess we'll be sitting downstairs for an hour. As soon as I sit down at the opposite end f the couch as my father, the front door opens.
"Hey," Tre says, walking in with Mike following.
"Do you guys know how to knock," my father asks, laughing a bit.
"Yeah, we just choose not to," Tre replies grinning. He walks over and sits next to me. "Hey, Ellie!" I cover my ear.
"Tre, what the hell? I'm sitting right here, you don't have to yell!"
"Billie Joe fucking Armstrong! Where did your daughter learn that fucking language," Tre yells, turning to my father.
"Definitely not you!" They laugh and I just smile.
"You okay, El," Mike asks as the laughter trails off. "You're quiet."
"Yeah, just thinking."
"You do that too much," Tre says. "You should turn your mind off for a day."
"Heh, don't I wish..." Mike looks at my father and they exchange a look.
"Billie, can I talk you for a minute," he asks. My father nods, his expression showing that he already knows what it's going to be about. They walk out on to the back patio and Tre turns to me.
"Mike told me," he murmurs. I look down.
"I figured," I reply in a whisper.
"I just want you to know that it's not your fault." I swallow.
"I know it's not."
"Me and Mike are gonna try and help you and Billie, okay?"
"You mean 'Mike and I'?"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Nothing can help me, Tre. I'll always have the memories and I'm never gonna forget, no matter what I do."
"You can try to." I look up at him.
"I've tried for months." I look past Tre and out to the patio where my father was standing with Mike. Mike was talking, but my father was watching me with the most sympathetic expression on his face I have ever seen. I look back at Tre.
"How long has this been going on, Ellie?"
"A little over six months." Tre let out a quiet gasp.
"Ever since the divorce?" I nod. "So it's like you've been painting this mask on your face to make sure no one found out." Before I can answer, Mike and my father walk back inside.
"Ellie, your father and I have come to a decision," Mike announces. I look at my father as he stares back at me. He cleared his voice.
"I think it'd be best if we both started seeing a therapist."
"What kind of stuff are we gonna write," my father asks. I shrug.
"I don't know, whatever comes to mind," I reply quietly.
"So why did you wanna help me with this?" I want you to leave me alone.
"I thought it would be fun." He looks over at me.
"Is it?" I smile a little.
"Yeah." We finish with the walls (with the help of ladders) and go downstairs to wait for it to dry. The can says it takes an hour to dry, so I guess we'll be sitting downstairs for an hour. As soon as I sit down at the opposite end f the couch as my father, the front door opens.
"Hey," Tre says, walking in with Mike following.
"Do you guys know how to knock," my father asks, laughing a bit.
"Yeah, we just choose not to," Tre replies grinning. He walks over and sits next to me. "Hey, Ellie!" I cover my ear.
"Tre, what the hell? I'm sitting right here, you don't have to yell!"
"Billie Joe fucking Armstrong! Where did your daughter learn that fucking language," Tre yells, turning to my father.
"Definitely not you!" They laugh and I just smile.
"You okay, El," Mike asks as the laughter trails off. "You're quiet."
"Yeah, just thinking."
"You do that too much," Tre says. "You should turn your mind off for a day."
"Heh, don't I wish..." Mike looks at my father and they exchange a look.
"Billie, can I talk you for a minute," he asks. My father nods, his expression showing that he already knows what it's going to be about. They walk out on to the back patio and Tre turns to me.
"Mike told me," he murmurs. I look down.
"I figured," I reply in a whisper.
"I just want you to know that it's not your fault." I swallow.
"I know it's not."
"Me and Mike are gonna try and help you and Billie, okay?"
"You mean 'Mike and I'?"
"Yeah, whatever."
"Nothing can help me, Tre. I'll always have the memories and I'm never gonna forget, no matter what I do."
"You can try to." I look up at him.
"I've tried for months." I look past Tre and out to the patio where my father was standing with Mike. Mike was talking, but my father was watching me with the most sympathetic expression on his face I have ever seen. I look back at Tre.
"How long has this been going on, Ellie?"
"A little over six months." Tre let out a quiet gasp.
"Ever since the divorce?" I nod. "So it's like you've been painting this mask on your face to make sure no one found out." Before I can answer, Mike and my father walk back inside.
"Ellie, your father and I have come to a decision," Mike announces. I look at my father as he stares back at me. He cleared his voice.
"I think it'd be best if we both started seeing a therapist."
♠ ♠ ♠
I don't really have much to say...Remember to IM me (AIM s/n): Arrhea
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OH! Almost forgot. You guys need to check this story out - It's called Mike's Second Chance. It's by a very good friend of mine, rockangel88. It's amazing!!!
<3 - Katelyn