The Secrets of Billie Joe Armstrong

I woke in an unfamiliar bed.

In an unfamiliar room.

In an unfamiliar body, feeling unfamiliar feelings.

I didn't know who I was.

Where I was.

Why I was there.

My eyes swiveled down to my arms. Both covered in blood soaked bandages.

How did they get on there?

Why?

Then, in a horrible rush everything came back to me.

I was in a hospital bed and room. I was Ollie, Andy's girlfriend. I was pregnant and my stomach had bloated. I was a board of emotions because the love of my life, and father of my child had died. I had cut myself and Grace had found me. Nurses had stitched me up, and bandaged my arms.

"Ollie?" Graces soft voice played in my ears and I relaxed a bit. Having her with me was comforting. "Are you feeling better?" She asked.

I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. I wanted to ask about the baby, but I didn't. I couldn't. I slid my hands down to my stomach and rubbed the spot where my baby was growing.

"He's fine." Grace said, reading my mind. I smiled. "Ollie, why did you do it?" Grace's face turned cold and her voice sounded toneless.

"I... I..." My voice continued to stick, but I had to say it. I pushed myself. "Andy... Andy died!"

"I know." Grace whispered. "So then it's OK for you to do this, is it? It's OK to kill yourself and your child because Andy died? Because you don't have him anymore? It's OK for you to take your life and leave your friends and family to pick up the pieces? You went into an early labor, you know? You're only seven months in. You were going to give birth while you were unconscious and then what? Your parents don't know you're pregnant. I'd be forced to tell someone, and then he'd be put into foster care. What were you thinking? Why were you so selfish?"

"I'm sorry." I whispered. "I cant do this with out you. Please don't be angry with me. I move away to New York in a few months. Just after I have him."

"I don't know, Ollie. What are you going to do? You promised Andy you'd keep him."

"I will."

"Miss?" A doctor called out from the doorway.

"Yes?"

"I have some news regarding your pregnancy. Your child has an 80% chance of being premature. You almost had to give birth today while unconscious. Also some of the nurses are worried about the conditions the child will be bought up in. I need to ask you some questions."

"Okay..."

"How old are you and who do you live with?"

"I'm sixteen and live with my mother and father. However, they recently had a divorce and I'm moving to New York in a few months."

The doctor scribbled some notes down and continued to ask questions. I happily answered them until he asked about the father.

"Who's the father, where is he now and how old is he?"

Tears streamed down my face, making my mascara bleed. My heart rippled with every tear, making my heart feel less and less alive. My eyes turned cold, my voice turned shaky.

"Andrew Armstrong. He's seventeen. Right now his remains are probably strewn across the highway because he got into an accident this morning and died."

He doctor just mumbled a silent "thank you" and continued scribbling on the note pad.

"If any doctors or nurses find in necessary, your child may be taken into foster care once born."

With that he walked out of my room and I felt more and more empty than before.

They couldn't take my baby away. It was the only piece of Andy I had left.