Catastrophic Hymns

Five days later, Cesca sat backstage, waiting for the guys to finish their show. She couldn't watch another one, not after the last one she'd watched. Billie had stared at her the entire time.

Suddenly Tré burst in the room, jumping on the couch.

"Itwassofuckingawesomeyoushouldhavebeenthere," he said, and she stared at him.

"Yeah," she said. Mike walked in, looking extremely sweaty. He walked over to Cesca and helped her to her feet.

"My, aren't you sexy?" she said as he tried to hug her, but she pulled away. "No, you're gross." He grinned evilly, and she took off running, only to crash into a very sweaty Billie Joe. He held her arms, keeping her upright. She shrieked as Mike caught up with her and knocked her down, rubbing his sweaty face against hers.

"EW! Stop it! You're so gross! Ugh, get OFF!" she said helplessly. Mike just cackled and continued. She shrieked, trying to get someone to help, and soon Billie pulled him off her.

"Dude, that's enough. She's dying there." Cesca lay on the floor, playfully making crying noises, and Mike helped her to her feet, giving her a quick kiss. Cesca saw the hate flicker in Billie's eyes as Mike wrapped his arms around her.

"Mike, take a shower, we're gonna go party. I need to get drunk," Billie mumbled, anger pulsating through his rough voice. He made his way backstage. Mike looked at Cesca, confused.

"What was that about?" he asked. Cesca shrugged, frowning, and followed Billie. She found him in his dressing room; she entered and shut the door behind her.

"What was that?" she said. He glared at her.

"You tell me." She crossed her arms.

"Mike is my boyfriend, I think he's allowed to kiss me-" Billie slammed his fist against the table, making Cesca jump.

"No, goddamnit, he is NOT allowed to. Frankie, I want you to be mine again." He made his way to her, backing her against the door. "I want us to be... us again. I never stopped loving you, and I never will. I would give up my life just to have one day... one minute with you, Francesca."

She paused, not looking at him. Mike, Mike, Mike. Not Billie, Mike. She could feel the heat radiating from Billie's body, and she shivered.

"Why did you leave?" She asked suddenly, glaring at him. "You never fucking answered me and I think I deserve to know!" He sighed, running his fingers through his still sweaty hair.

"I was forced to. I...I can't tell you, Frankie." He moved closer to her, pressing his body against hers, and she momentarily forgot about Mike.

"Did you want to-" He lightly gripped her upper arms.

"No. I hated it then, and I have regretted it every minute of these six years. Frankie, I love you," she sighed, tears burning her eyes and blurring her vision.

"I can't love you, Billie. I have Mike-"

"Fuck Mike, if you love me-"

"I can't do that to him!" she said loudly. "He..." She sighed and rolled up her sleeves. "I have something to show you, Billie..." He stepped back as she revealed the lines on her arms, and the two thick bands on her wrists.

"No..." he whispered, touching one lightly. "No."

"I tried to kill myself three times, Bill. Three times." He embraced her, holding her as close as he dared.

"No...Oh Frankie..."

"You don't know how much it hurt me. You don't understand at all," she said, pulling away from him. "And that's why I can't do this to Mike, because he helped me so much. He...he saved my life-"

"He will never love you as much as I do. Never. No one can love you like this." He gazed into her grey eyes for a few moments, then brought his lips crashing into hers. She sighed and let herself fall into the kiss.

Suddenly she remembered Mike and pushed Billlie away.

"Don't fucking touch me," she said, glaring at Billie and storming out of his dressing room. She pushed past Mike and made her way to the tourbus, where she found it: her old razor blade.

"Hello, old friend," she whispered, scraping some dried blood off the corner. She sat on the floor of the bus, her legs stretched out in front of her, and shoved her sleeve up further. She jumped when she heard voices and stood up, going to the bathroom and locking the door. This time she would succeed. This time no one would find her.

She pressed the silver leaf to her wrist, but stopped, deciding to write a note. She let herself out and got some paper and a pen, and locked herself back in the bathroom.

I'm sorry. The guilt is too much.
Billie, I'm so sorry. I love you, but I can't do this. I couldn't do that to Mike.
Mike, you can find someone better than me. I wasted three years of your life.
I'm sorry...
Francesca Michelle Artolli

She sighed, content with her note. She lay it on the floor and pressed the razor blade to her wrist again. She was going to bleed away the pain, bleed into nothingness...

She had begun the line when she heard voices outside the door.

"Shit, dude, where the fuck is she? What the fuck did you do to her?" Mike said frantically. She pushed the note under the door, and continued her line of pain, wincing as the blood ran sluggishly down her arm, staining her white shirt.

She heard someone pick up the note and read it aloud.

"MIKE!" Billie yelled, and soon Cesca heard the bassist's footsteps rushing over.

"SHIT!" Mike screamed, pounding on the door. "Cesca, no. Don't do this, please. I love you so much-"

"Just...just go, Mike," she said as she began the other wrist, already beginning to feel dizzy.

The door broke open as her world went black.

***

She woke up to feel her wrists heavily bandaged. She felt the ground move beneath her, and she leaned over the side of the bed, emptying her stomach into a trash can. She sighed as she realized her fourth attempt had failed.

"Fuck," she said angrily, attempting to sit up, but feeling herself being pushed back down. She looked up to see Billie sitting beside her, tears in his eyes.

"Why, Frankie?" he said simply. She looked away.

"Because I am worthless-"

"No you are not. You are amazing, and you're everything to me." She shook her head, laughing slightly.

"You just don't get it, Billie. You never will." She rolled over, turning her back to him. She heard him sigh and get up, walking to a different part of the bus. She frowned and lay on her back, feeling the bandages on both wrists.

"Fuck," she whispered again.