Outer Demons: {Billie Joe Armstrong x Mike Dirnt}

My wide eyes fall on the tiny form of a blonde-haired girl with light green eyes.

She giggles again and waves at me, taking a small step towards my cowering form, leaving a puddle of dark liquid in her wake.

I tremble fiercely as she steps closer, her intestines threatening to spill from her exposed, cracked ribcage, her tiny, bleeding lungs pulsating as she sucks in ragged, wheezing breaths.

I debate for a moment whether or not to hide completely under my blanket, like a child hiding from a monster under the bed, but I can't move.

Instead, I just stare in horror as she keeps walking closer, a shy smile on her face, blood dripping from her mouth and staining the dark, tattered remains of what used to be her shirt.

"H̵̛̞̳̟́̃͝i̷̠̿͊̂͝͝!̸̧̗̘͒͛̊̄͠" She giggles as she steps closer to me, hole in her throat contracting as she speaks. I shake and whimper, my eyes locked on her. She looks confused when I don't respond.

"H̵̛̞̳̟́̃͝i̷̠̿͊̂͝͝!̸̧̗̘͒͛̊̄͠"

I still don't answer as I feel crystalline tears falling down my cheeks, knowing perfectly well what's going to happen.

It's always the same...

"D̶̢͉̝͈̝̼́o̸̟̟̠̍̈͗̇͑ ̷̖̘̍̉̋̎ỹ̶̡̩̦̫͙͛̽̀̎͝ö̴̠͎̤̋̈͘͝͠ũ̴̻̝̹̊̚ ̶̭̥̏k̴̠̩̯̚͠n̶̛̦̤̙̦̈̚ờ̴̯̼̐̀͊͊͜ẃ̸͓̜̲̜̽ ̵̧̛̪̝̪̽̌͆͐w̷̓́́͜ḩ̷̀e̵̹̘͐r̵͔̥̉͝e̷͈͑͋̀ ̴̺̹̙̄̑͊̈́m̸̞͇̹̃̈́̐̊̾ẏ̵̧͕̙̬̜̪̾̐̅ ̵̱̖̣̩̼̂́m̴̡̛͓̟̍͑̈́̉͜ͅȯ̸̯̹͂͝m̸̙̥̩̳̅m̸̨̦̙̮̓͂́y̵̜̩͓͍̋́̊͜ ̴̨̛̬̫̒̔̒̉i̷̗͚̽͋̈́̏̈́̕s̸̡͕͓͖̍́?̷̦͂̎͗̈́̓̋"

She, or rather, Jenny, quirks her head to one side, causing a series of loud snaps and pops, her head lolling to the side at an unnatural angle as she asks the same question in her small, gurgling voice.

"̵̖̙̃D̶̢͉̝͈̝̼́o̸̟̟̠̍̈͗̇͑ ̷̖̘̍̉̋̎ỹ̶̡̩̦̫͙͛̽̀̎͝ö̴̠͎̤̋̈͘͝͠ũ̴̻̝̹̊̚ ̶̭̥̏k̴̠̩̯̚͠n̶̛̦̤̙̦̈̚ờ̴̯̼̐̀͊͊͜ẃ̸͓̜̲̜̽ ̵̧̛̪̝̪̽̌͆͐w̷̓́́͜ḩ̷̀e̵̹̘͐r̵͔̥̉͝e̷͈͑͋̀ ̴̺̹̙̄̑͊̈́m̸̞͇̹̃̈́̐̊̾ẏ̵̧͕̙̬̜̪̾̐̅ ̵̱̖̣̩̼̂́m̴̡̛͓̟̍͑̈́̉͜ͅȯ̸̯̹͂͝m̸̙̥̩̳̅m̸̨̦̙̮̓͂́y̵̜̩͓͍̋́̊͜ ̴̨̛̬̫̒̔̒̉i̷̗͚̽͋̈́̏̈́̕s̸̡͕͓͖̍́?̷̦͂̎͗̈́̓̋"̸̨͒̓͗͘

This time her tone grows more upset, more urgent, and she pops her lopsided thumb into her mouth, oblivious to the protruding bones and muscle tissue as she sucks on it.

I just keep crying and am forced to watch in horror as the events play out just as they have every other time.

Ever so slowly her gaze wanders down to her open stomach, her shredded clothes...

I see her heart start pumping faster and more blood spill onto the floor from all her wounds, her letting out a scream of pure distress and terror that only small children can.

I press my hands over my ears and clench my teeth to muffle a sob as she just keeps screaming.

Screaming and screaming and screaming until I swear my ears must bleeding, and I'm forced to watch her descend into a frenzied panic, her mangled intestines and broken ribs meeting the cool concrete bit by bit as she starts vomiting blood.

No...

No...

I suddenly sob out for her and try to stand up.

I can't let her die again!

I can't!

Bur my legs give out and I collapse to the ground, heart racing with a desperate need to help her, a need to save her; a need not to let her die this time.