A Journey Through Christian's Inferno

Billie Joe returned from the local bar at around half past midnight. He had become used to driving while alcohol impaired and skillfully parked his black BMW in his garage before heading to the house. He wasn’t very stable and his legs wobbled as he walked, giving him the helpless appearance of a puppet.

The door unlocked with a quiet click and he stepped in. All lights were off except for the ones in the kitchen and bathroom, which were always left on in case he, his wife or his sons got up in the night and needed to see to find their way around. Except for the cheerful chirping of crickets outside, a sound typical of a warm summer night, everything was quiet. His family had gone to bed.

It was a night like any other.

Or so it would seem.

He walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water before turning in for the night. His alcohol consumption had made him quite dizzy and if there was one thing he needed right now, it was sleep.

With a twist of the faucet a heavy stream of clear, cool water flowed down into the sink. He took a glass from the dishwasher and filled it all the way to the top. His hands shook, unstable. Quickly, he slurped it down and headed towards his bedroom, which was the third one on the left side of the hallway.

It was then that he noticed the bathroom light was no longer on as it had been several minutes ago.

“That’s odd,” he thought to himself, “I could have sworn that was on when I came in the house.”

He figured that it had to be a burnt-out light bulb or something along those lines, so for the most part he thought nothing of it.

That is, until the light in the kitchen went dim and flickered, dying out just like the bathroom light had. It was then that a tight knot formed in the pit of his stomach. This was slightly strange, and for a reason he could not explain he was beginning to feel slightly nervous.

“I guess I’m going to need two new light bulbs now,” he said aloud this time, voice quavering. Was this a coincidence? It was possible, but something told him that it wasn’t. It just wasn’t likely for two brand new light bulbs to go out at the same time.

Now the entire house was enveloped in blackness. He tip-toed in the direction of his bedroom, slowly so that he would not run into anything. He placed his hands on the wall and kept them there as he moved so that it would be obvious when he had come to his door.
He ran his hands against the wall, keeping his balance while walking at a slow pace in the direction of his bedroom. He was almost there, almost-

His hands slid over the last portion of the wall. One more step. He eased himself into a faster paced walk.

Suddenly he collided with a firm object that was leaned up against the wall. On contact, it felt nothing like the firmness of a wall. He wondered what this was. There had never been any furniture or anything in the hall. He reached out his hands and felt around. He froze.

He was touching a shirt collar.

There was somebody standing in front of him.

“A…Adie?” He questioned aloud. He hoped that it was her, although he knew it wasn’t. The figure was silent, but began to move closer. Billie came to the conclusion that he was standing in the presence of an intruder.

“What do you want?” He asked. There was an edge of panic on his raspy voice. His breath was coming out in short, quick bursts of air.

There was no response, just the hollow sound of the figure’s own heavy breathing. Billie could feel that he was being stared at. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A shiver went down his spine.

Silence and tension created an awkward and terrifying atmosphere. The figure all of a sudden made a quick jump for Billie and he did the one thing that his intuition automatically suggested.

Run.

“Billie…”

An unfamiliar voice hissed menacingly through the darkness.

He knew he was being followed now, but strangely foot steps could not be heard. He
dodged under the coffee table and curled up into a tight position. His only hope was that he would not be seen.

“Billie…”

A whimper escaped from Billie’s lips before he could contain himself. A shadow was reflected on the wall only several inches away, and he could see that it had turned in his direction. Stalking. Hovering.

Whoever it was, they knew he was there. They had made it their mission to find him.

They would do anything to find him.

“Show your fucking face…” It hissed yet again, “Or are you some kind of coward?”

He remained silent. His back ached from the uncomfortable position he had been forced into, but he didn’t dare move.

This was terrifying.

“I know you’re there. You can’t escape me, Billie.”

It had come to a point where Billie Joe, trapped in his current state of desperation was almost thoroughly convinced that he was going insane. Unfortunately, this was not the case.
He was still perfectly sane. There would be no easy escape from this madness.

Even insanity would be less torturous than what he had been put through and had no choice but to go through now.

His mind was coming apart at the seams. Mutilated. Ripped to shreds by a mere thought of the horror that was yet to come. He could not understand how this misfortune had come to be cursed upon him. Nobody, not even the lowest criminal deserved this. He would not curse it on even his own worst enemy.

What would become of Billie Joe Armstrong? Even he could not answer this question to reassure himself. His life was now in the hands of an invisible force and his fate could not be foreseen or predicted.

The figure that had crept into his room and taken him by surprise shuffled towards him, gaining speed with each swift step. A hand reached under the coffee table in an attempt to pull him out. He rolled out into the middle of the floor, stumbled to his feet and ran in the opposite direction. The room was pitch black and Billie could not see his face, although from the general body outline he was pretty sure that it was a man.

Furniture toppled over as Billie jumped and dodged his way around. The man was now in hot pursuit. Billie knew his attempt to escape was pointless. Useless. He was about to be attacked in his own home and there was nothing in the world that he could do to stop it.
Finally, he was cornered in between the wall and bedside table. The man’s outstretched arms came closer and closer until they found their way to Billie’s neck.

He tried to scream for help as the man’s thick fingers curled around his throat and clamped down in that position. His feeble attempt was useless, because no sound would come from his mouth. Now that he was in a choke hold, nothing but the mercy of his captor could save him.

But his captor knew no mercy, and in return showed none. He tightened his grip and let out an eerie laugh as Billie gasped for breath.

Billie’s lungs, rapidly expanding with trapped air felt as if they were going to explode under the pressure. He looked up into the face of his captor, staring up into those piercing green eyes.

Did this man look familiar? Billie could not tell. The decreased oxygen supply to his brain had significantly affected his ability to think clearly. He was losing consciousness and every passing second was a struggle to stay alive.

Using the last ounce of breath that he could force through his constricted airways, he manage to whisper one word in a plead for compassion.

“Please!”

The man only sneered at this and continued to squeeze Billie’s throat.

Billie knew that this was the end of his existence. He, in his final moments thought of his wife, his kids, and his band mates. The thought of leaving them behind on this earth was just too much of a burden for any one man to bear.

A tear found its way out of his eye, rolled from his cheek and splashed to the ground.

Suddenly everything went black.