Forgotten

Tre had me in his arms the same way Billie had earlier, one arm wrapped around my waist. We were moving at a fairly rapid pace, and I was sure that we would be going faster if I hadn't been injured. Then again, if my ankle wasn't hurt, I wouldn't even be here right now.

As Tre ran me all around backstage searching for a large cookie, I was lost in thought. How had all of this even happened? Of course I knew what had happened, but I still wasn't sure that all of this wasn't just a dream and I'd wake up any minute now. I knew it was entirely possible for me to fall down a flight of stairs, but to run into Billie Joe Armstrong while incapacitated because of said stairs? Highly unlikely.

And yet, it had happened. So fast that I hadn't even had time to think about it yet. I'd barely had time to consider what would happen to me after all of this. How was I going to get home?

I could hear Tre talking about something random, probably pertaining to his cookie, but I wasn't listening. This was all too much. My vision began to get cloudy. I felt myself falling, and then everything was black.

***

When I came to, I could hear voices around me, but couldn't make out what they were saying. I didn't want to open my eyes just yet, it would probably be really bright and I didn't think I could deal with that right now. I just wanted to lay here.

I knew I couldn't stay like this for much longer, my breathing had most likely changed and one of the voices would notice. Maybe when I woke up, I'd be in a mental institution or someplace like that. That's where I should be for thinking that all of this had really happened.

I finally lifted my eyelids and, to my surprise, saw Tre leaning over me, closer to my face than I would have liked. I tried to move my head back, but since I was laying down it didn't really work.

"YAY! I didn't kill her!!" Tre screamed.

"Of course you didn't kill her, idiot. But whatever you did you made her pass out. Way to go, dumbass." Mike said. I would have expected something like that from Billie.

"What...happened?" I asked, holding the back of my head in an attempt to sooth the pain radiating from it.

"Tre is a fucking dumbass and was too busy thinking about fucking food to be paying attention to you! He let you go and you hit the floor pretty hard. Your ankle is probably even more fucked up now." Again, Mike was talking. Where was Billie?

"I'm so sorry, Shelbie! So, so sorry! I'll do anything you want! I'll be your dominated love slave! Whatever you want!" Tre sobbed. Why did I feel empty? Was it because Billie wasn't here? No, of course not. I'd only known him for a little while....

"Um...that's alright, Tre. Don't worry about it. I probably would have fallen on my own anyway. Okay?" I tried to console him.

"THANK YOU!! You're so forgiving! Unlike Billie!"

"Where is Billie, anyway?" I asked. Where had he gotten to?

"He went to go get some things. Like ice, ibuprofen, a shotgun. You know, the usual." Mike answered.

"Okay, well I'm assuming the ice and and ibuprofen are for me...but what's the shotgun for?"

"Tre."

"Why the hell does Tre need a shotgun?" Was he going to shoot his cookie or something?

"Well, it's not really /for/ Tre, more like to be used /on/ Tre." Mike said.

"Oh. Well he doesn't need to kill him! It's not his fault! I wouldn't even be here right now if I wasn't stupid enough to be incapable of walking down some stairs. Really, it's not necessary to kill him..." And again, I was causing them trouble.

"Yes, actually, it is necessary. But I couldn't find a shotgun, so he'll live for now." Billie said, returning with an ice pack and some blue pills. Was it right that I felt my heart leap a little when I heard his voice?

"Okay good. I don't want Tre to get hurt..." I really didn't, especially not because of me. Billie handed me the ice pack and threw me a bottle of water, along with the blue pills.

"Alright, so now what do we do? Almost everything's loaded up. We'll be done here in about 15 minutes." Mike said.

"Oooh! I'm hungry! Can we go to Taco Bell? Please?" Tre begged.

Billie laughed. I loved the sound of it, I don't know why.

"Yeah, we can Tre. Even though we were just there this afternoon. God, I haven't had Taco Bell in so long!" he said.

"Yay!"

"Hey, um, what am I supposed to do? I mean it's probably like one in the morning, maybe later."

"Yeah, I know. We should probably find you a hospital or something. We'll ask someone at Taco Bell." Mike said.

"Really, if one of you guys has a cell phone or something, I can just call my friend's parents-" Billie cut me off, again.

"And wake them up? Like you said, it's pretty late. They're probably asleep. You really want to wake them up?" He asked. I thought about that. I really didn't want to wake them, but what other choice did I have?

"Well, no, but there's not much else I can do." I looked down. This was really fucked up.

"You could stay with us. I mean, we'll be in Minneapolis tomorrow, so we don't exactly have to leave here until maybe 10 or 11. It's only a three and a half hour drive. We could make it." Billie suggested.

"You can't possibly be serious! You guys have better things to do than worry about me! Focus on your damn tour! Give me a fucking cell phone, and I'll be fine. You'll be free to continue as you please. I'll be fine." I argued.

"Really? Like I said earlier, how much money do you have with you? A dollar? You're 21 years old, you don't live in this city let alone this state, have a dead cell phone, and no way to get home. What do you want us to do? Treat you like some piece of shit just because we're fucking rockstars? We're not any different than any other person just because we're famous. If it were any other person, any other group of people, what would you do? Would you let them help you when they were perfectly capable of doing so, or would you tell them to fuck off because you can fend for yourself, when in all reality, you have no where to go tonight!" Billie sounded pissed. I never knew I could evoke this kind of emotion in another person.

"I...I don't know. I don't know what I would do. It all depends..." I answered quietly. I didn't want him to be angry at me.

"Alright, then tell me this. Say I'm you and you're me. You found me sitting in a fucking stairwell, alone in a foreign city, with no cell phone, no money, and no car. Not to mention a broken ankle. Would you just leave me there? Or would you do something about it? And not me as Billie Joe Armstrong, me as a person." he demanded. I saw Mike and Tre watch our conversation in silence, almost like a tennis match, watching each person to see what they would say next, then turning to see the other's reaction.

"Honestly? I would help you, because that's just how I am. I couldn't just leave someone like that." I was even quieter this time. I couldn't look at him. He was just doing exactly what I would have done in this situation. I couldn't blame him.

That didn't mean I couldn't feel guilty for letting him help me.

"Fine. I'll stay with you tonight, but as soon as I can I'm calling someone." I sighed in defeat.

"And you'll let us take you to the hospital to get your ankle checked?" he just stared.

"No! That can wait until I get home, really. It's not that big of a deal. It's probably not even broken..." That would really have been too much.

He just gave me a hard look. I stared right back, with what I hoped was the same expression.

Finally, I conceded. Again. Why was I doing this?! I had always been able to take care of myself, why not now?!

"Good. Now let's get Tre to Taco Bell before he starts gnawing on his drumsticks." Mike and I agreed quietly, while Tre yelled loudly as usual.

***End Chapter 4 - Dominated Love Slave***