My Guardian Vampire

"Well, maybe not a death wish, I just... don't seem to care anymore..." I trailed, and my smile totally disappeared. I released his wrists so he could get up, apologetic that I had spoiled the good mood.

"Sorry Billie Joe, I'm kind of a downer..." I said, beginning to get off of him. He surprised me by quickly pulling me back down on top of him before leaning up slightly to kiss me. I laid there, completely frozen. My mind went into override, the brain shutting down, and instead of thinking I just began to kiss him back. He sat up slowly, making sure not to break the kiss.

I had to say, Billie Joe was a good kisser. I don't think I had ever kissed a bad kisser, but this guy was great, screw good. We kissed softly at first, him holding my face with one hand as he steadied himself with the other. The kiss eventually got deeper, and he began to get more forward, his hand moving from my cheek to my chin, from my chin to my shoulder and down my arm. We began to make out, his tongue eventually begging for entry which I hungrily gave him, loving how this felt and not thinking of anything but this. Sensing my eagerness he continued, wrapping his arm that had been steadying himself around my waist and his other hand to my leg. He rubbed the side of my leg slowly; giving me chills which made me smile slightly as we kissed. My heart began to pound faster, finally letting emotion get the better of it, slightly letting loose of its numb shell. I felt good emotions begin to slide in the cracks like water, gently yet forcefully pushing at the walls of the shell only like water can.

My heart did resist however, the shell hardening slightly with the fact that it knew this didn't feel exactly right.

I placed my hand on Billie Joe's chest, laughing in my head on how it was beating faster too, something I might be able to tease him about later. I moved up my hands to his hair, loving the way it felt as I ran it through my fingers. I felt Billie Joe slightly smile as our lips were locked, a great feeling. I moved my hand back down to his chest, briefly pausing to feel his heart beating slightly faster than before. I then put my hand to the ground to steady myself as Billie Joe began to kiss me a little more firmly, slightly pressing me into him. I began to slowly stop the kiss, deciding that I had had enough of the eroding emotion for one night, when I felt Billie Joe push into my head.

I was confused as to why he would even bother now, but my thoughts were suddenly cleared. Instead I felt only lust for him, which I knew inside was from the fog.

But I already was loving this so much; it became extremely hard to fight. Billie Joe gently pushed me down to the ground, and then began to straddle me. He leaned down and began to kiss me again, and paused to take off his shirt. I stared at his body, sexy tattoos decorating his sexy figure, and I had to close my eyes extremely hard to concentrate, trying to will away the image of him that stayed with me when my eyes closed.

"Billie..." was all I managed to say softly. He leaned down, biting my lip lightly before moving to my ear and nibbling on it softly.

"Hmm?" he asked, his breath on my neck and ear. His hands began to travel up my body and I almost stopped fighting right there, the fog enhancing the feelings the light pressure he put on my shirt as he moved up my hips to the side of my stomach and right below my chest where he stopped. I breathed out, realizing that I had been holding in my breath. He was now kissing my neck softly and laughed as he kissed, sending vibrations into my own vocal chords. I couldn’t help but moan slightly, and then closed my eyes tight enough for them to hurt. "Billie, I don't want this..."

"Bullshit," he said, and we both knew he was right. He went up to my mouth and kissed me again, his hand moving up from my abdomen to the base of my chest, giving me chills, then back down again, his fingers trailing down my stomach seductively. His hand then went up my shirt, and rubbed my stomach softly. Despite the heat his hands were cold, especially on my warm stomach.

The shock of the cold on my flesh was enough to help me concentrate.

I stopped kissing him, pushing the fog out of my head forcefully.

"I said I didn't want this Billie Joe!" I yelled, and he sat up, angry. I tried to wiggle out from underneath him, but he wouldn't move. "Get off of me!" I yelled, trying to push him off.

Then he gritted his teeth, and slapped me.

It hit like a mini lightning bolt: a loud slap followed by a hurtful tingling sensation, shocking me through my entire body. He immediately looked apologetic, holding his hand out as if it would attack him too.

That is, at least, until I slapped him back.

It was a bitchy move, but if it was a bitch fight he wanted, it was a bitch fight he was getting.
Even if it was to the death.

I waited a moment after my slap took effect for him to fight back.

Instead, he just said: "Ok, I deserved that. I'm sorry."

I looked at him, and slapped him again, hitting purposely the raw cheek. I did it without thinking, and part of me wondered if I wanted a fight.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He yelled. "I apologized! Do you know how fucking hard that is!?"

"Fuck you Billie Joe! Why don't you just go jerk off in some hole?" I yelled. He got off of me, putting his shirt on roughly.

He had no right to use the fog on me, especially after-
'Wait...This isn't his fault. He doesn't know.'
I sighed, Billie Joe fuming.

"Billie-" I began, and he turned around sharply, scaring me.

"Forget it! I'll just go fuck off in a hole like you said to!" he said, and began to walk away, but froze.

"Hey you two! What's all that shouting?" Someone yelled. I looked to Billie, but he was gone.

'Fucking great job there hero,' I thought, and suddenly a pudgy-looking man in a police uniform stepped onto the playground. He walked over to me cautiously, and looked at my cheek from a distance.

"Ma'am, you alright?" he asked. Apparently the slap mark was worse than I thought. I tried to speak, but a lump was caught in my throat.

"No," I choked out before breaking down for the millionth time in the past few days, hating myself for driving away the one person who had taken away the numbness, or at least made it disappear for a while.

I must really be some kind of fucked-up little monster girl.
The police officer asked me things like my name, but I couldn't speak, so instead he just asked me yes or no questions.

"Do you have anywhere to go?" he eventually asked, and I shook my head no again, crying even harder.
He took my hand and helped me up and led me to a police cruiser. I got in the back and we drove off. The numbness began to set in again, only this time it hurt like it had the first time it set in as my mind mocked me for letting myself get emotional and try to take away the numbness that had protected me. The berating started again, and I hid back away in that numb shell. Although I missed and loved Gerard—and my heart was breaking over the loss of him—I knew this was about much deeper. I was going insane, undoubtedly and thoroughly. It had taken me so much when I was younger to overcome the self-stigma of my depression, to not equate “depressed” with “insane”—but this was different. It truly felt as if my sanity was breaking down, and in these short few days I had barely begun to comprehend or mourn the loss of my mind. I couldn't even be truly sad, or truly terrified—only numb, which made my tears stream the most of all. They were no longer an act of real sadness, but seemed to be forced out—just like at my grandfather’s funeral. Regardless, they still continued, forcing my body to shake as I huddled against the back of the police cruiser’s seat.

I fell asleep, uncaring of where I was headed to.