[x]Toxic.Girl[x] - Billie Joe Armstrong - [x]11...There's A Plague Inside of Me...[x]

His veins were burning. His entire body was numb and he screamed in utter agony. What was going on? This hadn't happened before.

One of the nurses grabbed a hold of his left wrist and conversed briefly with another. Billie couldn't hear what they were saying over his own screams.

They managed to get him on to the small bed, where he immediately passed out.

Billie opened his eyes and groaned. His head was throbbing. God, he needed a drink or something...

He tried to sit up, but something was holding him back. He tried again. No luck. Billie began to panic. What the hell was going on?

He looked over at his wrist and saw it was wrapped in a brown belt sort of thing. The same with the other wrist and both ankles.

Billie struggled, but knew it was of no use.

Just then, a doctor walked in carrying a metal clipboard with a red pen. Billie glared at him. Oh, how he would like to stick that red pen in this fucker's eye...

"Why the FUCK am I strapped to this goddamn bed?" Billie demanded. The doctor wrote something on his clipboard.

"You had an attack of withdrawls a few hours ago, Mr. Armstrong," he explained, not looking up.

"Yeah, but that's no reason to tie me up like a fucking animal," Billie growled. The doctor scribbled something else down on his clipboard.

"You are being restrained only for your safety, Mr. Armstrong. We don't want you to hurt yourself," he said calmly, still not looking at Billie.

"Hurt myself? What the hell? Why would I do that?"

"You've already done so. There are lacerations on your wrist." More scribbles.

Billie glanced at his left wrist. A few red marks were still visible.

"Yeah, but those are from a long time ago. I wasn't trying to kill myself or anything. I was...STOP FUCKING WRITING ABOUT ME AND LOOK AT ME!"

The doctor sighed and looked up from his clipboard.

"No need to yell, Mr. Armstrong," he said, his voice level. "But I'm afraid we can't take off the restraints for a while. Just a precaution." Billie stared at him.

"A precaution? I'm not a fucking suicidal maniac! Just listen to me. Don't keep me here. I don't belong here. You've gotta believe me, doc..." He was pleading now.

"I'm sorry," was all he said. He turned to leave.

"No, wait! Don't leave me here! Just take the restraints off! I swear I won't do anything! I SWEAR!" But he was already gone.

Billie let out a cry of frusteration. Hot tears began to run down his cheeks and he mentally pleaded for a miracle. But why the fuck was praying? He was just another worthless piece of shit now.

"Help me...please..." he whispered through his tears.
More in results...
A few minutes later, a blonde-haired nurse walked in. Billie ignored her.

"Dr. Taylor prescribed some medication for you, Mr. Armstrong. You'll take these twice a-"

"No," Billie responded. The nurse bit her lip.

"You have to take them. The doctor..."

"I SAID NO!" Billie snapped. The nurse took a step back. Billie glared at her menacingly, his face stained with tears and smudged eyeliner.

"Okay," she said quietly. She left the room and Billie immediately felt like an ass. But they weren't going to drug him. No way in hell.

Will he stay in rehab or will the miracle he prayed for really come? HA! You get to find out in the next part! RATE and MESSAGE please!