Lithium Kisses

A/N:

My dreams that were odd to say the least. A mad scientist had fused Billie Joe and a llama together. It also had grandma type saggy tits jiggling around. Tre also committed suicide because Mr. Ham-Ham had told him too. Then, all of the dead hamsters in the world rose from the dead and devoured my brain. Over and over and over and over. The dream replayed itself.

I woke up startled. My head throbbed like a heart beat. The collateral damage done to the rest of my body was just as terrible. Why was I covered in bruises? Why was there dried blood in on my panties? So many questions, but I couldn't remember a damn thing. Billie Joe was laying next to me, naked. I was very confused. Maybe I brought him to my room when he was drunk so I could keep an eye on him. Suddenly, there was a large searing pain in my back. I walked into the bathroom. Probably had a few spiders bites or something. Or maybe I slept on my razor blade.

My eyes boggled out when I stared at my back in the mirror. In bloody, scarred letters, the phrase "Billie Joe's Bitch" was now carved into my back. I screamed as loudly as I could. Billie Joe awoke and came dashing into the bathroom at full speed. I covered my eyes because he was still naked and not Pandora. I pointed to my back, sobbing. Billie Joe just chuckled. What? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BEST FRIEND! He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me to him. I wasn't liking this situation. At all.

"Your scars suit you very well, Heather. Why are you crying?" Billie Joe asked with a strange edge in his voice. I...what...the fuck...

"WHO DID THIS TO ME?!" I shrieked wildly. Billie Joe swiftly covered my mouth with his hand. There was specks of dried blood on it. Did he...? No, he was my best friend, he wouldn't do that. My partner in crime would never hurt me, would he? Chaotic thoughts bounced off the sharp points of my mind. I could imagine Billie Joe's mouth unhinging from it's socket and devouring my head whole. Nah, nah, that would never happen. The little zombies in my head told me not to worry, so I believed them. Billie Joe smirked and told me to guess. He gave me three guesses. If I didn't guess right, I'd get a nice surprise. Tim's ghost? I asked. No. The soviet prime minister? Still a no-no. Some stupid cholo? Nada.

Billie Joe reached into his ass and pulled out a small pocket knife. Seriously, just how drunk was he last night? He caught me by the throat and bent me over his knee. I felt something sharp cut into my inner thigh. I shrieked, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. When he was done, he shoved me to the floor. The inner part of my thigh now read "BJ Was Here". "You're a perfect little slut, you know." Billie Joe purred. And then I knew, he had done all of this me. I grabbed a plunger and smacked him straight in the face with it. He fell over backwards, his head landing in the toilet with a loud splash. Running out the door, I dashed into the hallway, tripping. I could feel the lines inside my head collide, causing me to double over.

WHY? WHY? WHY? No, no, this wasn't how everything was supposed to be. Best friends don't use best friends as dart boards. the hallway magnified itself, stretching before me. My body began to freeze over. How was any of this possible? I hope this doesn't turn me goth. I curled up into a tiny ball on the floor, like a molded ball of warm clay. Paint dripped from my wounds. Yes, paint, not blood. Billie Joe walked out of the bathroom, but there were thousands of Billie Joe's. And they were all carrying axes... No. I asked in a weak voice, what happened to me?

"I found some strange tablets, crushed them up and poured them into our beer last night." Billie Joe sneered. "I enjoy the trippy feeling, how about you?" I was too weak to shake my head. He drugged me too. I just couldn't. I didn't feel like feeling like a broken washing machine. This was all too much! Fuckitty fuck fuck. Tears spilled down my cheeks. The delusions cleared somewhat. I wasn't in the hallway, I was still in the bathroom. And shaking like a mad man. There was blood stains coating the tile, beer bottles floating in the bathtub and used condoms thrown everywhere. A perfect paradise for a dirty punk, but not me. I just stared at Billie Joe as if he was satan himself. "What's wrong, Heather? Did I do something wrong?" Billie Joe asked with concern.

"You're going back to rehab." I snapped. He cringed. Then I chucked an empty beer bottle at his head. He dropped to the floor. I was satisfied.

One week later

It felt so odd being back at my old school. The building was still the same as ever, built out of old brick and full of apathetic losers. No one even cared that I was the prez. Assholes. Even the principal wasn't impressed, and I used to be his shining star student out of the galaxy of black holes and burnt out supernovas. I was only here for one reason though, and that was to confess my feelings to Pandora. Pandora...oh how she made my black little heart rev up like a demented lawn mower. The morons in the hallway glared at me as I passed. Apparently I was interrupting the local fat dork from one of his oh-so IMPORTANT nerd speeches. What a loser. Even the goth twits were there to listen, along with the only remaining cholo in the building. After I gave the cholo his "deportation" notice, I listened to the speech for a few minutes.

This week's topic was about the new disease that was sweeping all over Africa. It started in the stomach and then infected your brain, causing you to be overly aggressive and irrational. Nerd-fuck was claiming that it was the start of the zombie apocalypse. That shit only in comic books, everyone knew that.

I shoved a few people to the floor and made my way over to Pandora...who was now hanging out with the punk kids?! What? I KNEW I had taught her well, so why would she betray me like that. She looked a lot different before. Her hair was now dyed dark blue and cut into a pin straight bob. She had a little black star drawn underneath her eye and was wearing a torn black Rancid tank top with a thin black lace shirt underneath. She was wearing dark blue camo jeans and knee high, lace up boots. So, so fake. She was also wearing a dog collar because she was still such a bitch. I didn't know what to think. But she was ugly as shit now. Still, I loved her. I could convert her back to her beautiful emo self if I tried though, so I wasn't too worried. The punk group noticed me. I groaned in exasperation.

The punk kids began to shout random obscenities at me. Stupid uncivilized fucks probably didn't know how to say anything else BUT insults. Suddenly, Pandora told them all to shut up. I gasped. She never dared to say anything like that before. I needed to smack some sense into her after I told how much I loved her. "Oh, it's just you Heather." Pandora muttered and then looked away. Just me? Bitch, I was the fucking prez! I walked over to her, grabbing Mike's guitar that was still in the corner. And then I started to sing "Wow! That's Loud" by Green Day

"Smell your technicolour in your eyes
Makes me sick with pleasure in my mind
Shake it like it's so enlightening, staring at the sun that's blinding
Like a bottle rocket in the sky

The punk kids started laughing at me, so I just flipped them off. Pandora yawned. I had to try harder.

"Dressed to the nines like a black cat's eyes
You're such a beautiful mess tonight
Wow that dirty dress is so loud
Wow that dirty dress is so loud"

I sang with deep passion in my voice. Pandora must've liked it because she walked over to me. I stopped singing. She gazed at me probably out of admiration. I gazed sweetly back that she finally realized I felt so much love for her. She punched me as hard as she could in the nose. I staggered, looking at her in shock. "First of all, I hate your guts. Second of all, I don't want to hear anything from Green Day EVER AGAIN!" Pandora shouted angrily. Shock filled my mind. Green Day was the best fucking band on the entire planet, how dare she question them! A hate-filled shouting match ensued between me and Pandora. Most of the school who was still stuck in the hallway came over to watch. Stupid, stupid Pandora.

"You know I fucking love you, right?! You're supposed to be my fucking soulmate, bitch, so act like one!" I snarled. Pandora looked taken aback for a second. And then she burst into laughter. What...?

"Are you kidding me? You were a shitty excuse for a friend, so what makes you think that I could EVER love you back? I can't stand you, and I don't even know how you managed to con America into electing a twisted shithead like you as president, but your accomplishments mean nothing to me. I don't care if you've managed to put a dent into world hunger or won x amount of medals because in the end, you'll rot away just like all of the other washed out losers. You are nothing. NOTHING." Pandora laughed. All of the asshole punk kids started laughing too. Pretty soon I was nothing more then everyone's favorite joke at school. Rage filled my hollow veins. I handed Pandora my little black heart and she crushed in two. I swung Mike's guitar high above me head, preparing to give Pandora an aneurysm she wouldn't ever forget. There was a creaking sound above my head, but I ignored it.

Suddenly, part of the ceiling caved in, and the rotting carcass of Tim fell downwards. I watched in almost slow motion as the body crashed ontop of Pandora, and the horrible snap of her bones that followed. Everyone shrieked and ran around, not knowing what to do. I dropped the guitar and stood there. Blood trickled out of Pandora's gaping mouth, she wasn't breathing. My knees buckled beneath me, and I collapsed to ground, sobbing. Pandora was dead and it was all my fault. I had indirectly caused her death. I had been a little too harsh on her. And now she would never be mine. In that moment, I prayed to whatever god existed that I die right there and then too. This was too much. It felt as if the hollow space in my heart was breaking in two. I stood up, kicked Tim for good measure and then decided that it would be best to leave.

I still couldn't decide whether or not I loved Pandora. But then again, I was probably in shock. Part of me felt different though, more metallic. I felt alone. Except for Billie Joe of course, but he had been acting so weird for the past week. When I got back to the Black House, he wasn't in his room drinking like usual, he was standing out by the balcony, looking contemplative. His eyeliner was smudged, as if he had spent three hours crying. He brightened considerably when he saw me, but there was still a miserable look hiding somewhere in his smile.

"Heather, I'm so sorry for the way I acted towards you when I drunk. I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just... I tend to be a bit of a black-out drinker. I honestly don't remember all of what happened." Billie Joe explained sadly. How could he not remember carving that fucking phrase into my back?

So I told him everything that happened, and his eyes grew wider and wider with each gruesome detail. He started crying again, resting his head on the balcony. I waited until he was done. And then he apologized. Over and over again. I yawned.

"It's just that I...I really lo-" Billie Joe tried to say, but I cut him off. I had to tell him everything about what happened with Pandora. When I was done telling him, there seemed to be a glimmer of happiness in his eyes, but I could've been wrong. Pandora was my (former) soulmate, why the fuck would he look happy? Billie Joe hugged me tight. He smelled like crimson and clover. "I'm sorry things didn't work out between you and Pandora, but you'll always have me, you know." Billie Joe whispered softly in my ear and then kissed my forehead.

"Yeah, you're a great best friend, but it's nice to have someone that will put out for you too though." I said solemnly. Why did Pandora have to die? Couldn't she have died after I fucked her? No, of course not, because my life sucks donkey anuses. Billie Joe tensed for a second. Why was he acting so weird? "Can't you tell how much I car-" Billie Joe tried to say, but I cut him off again.

"You just don't understand what it's like to have someone be completely oblivious to how much you cherish their every particle." I explained, getting very annoyed with Billie Joe's interruptions. It's not like he had anything important to say anyway.

Billie Joe shook his head slowly, grabbed me and then shoved me up against the glass door. "Listen to me very carefully, Heather, okay? I care about you. I cherish every part of you. I love you. And not in a "best-friend" way either." He said softly.

I had no idea how to respond