Bill Kaulitz

Some decisions are made through clenched teeth, with a aching heart, for the sake of a fragile, almost imaginary future. Breaking up with Bill before the start of senior year was one of those decisions. Radical? Absolutely. Voluntary? Not really... But at least now your mother wasn’t slowly drilling into your brain with a teaspoon, her sharp comments sometimes feeling like a fucking torture.

She never called Bill by his name — only frowned in contempt and snorted “that one,” reducing his entire existence to the root of all problems in the universe, a root she finally managed to rip out of your life, without paying much attention to how you were actually holding up.

And every day at school felt like drowning in ice water, slowly dragging your mind under. Those hallway glances, accidental collisions, his attempts to talk to you in group conversations — each one pulling you deeper. And just when you thought you were finally starting to recover, the news of Kaulitz’s new relationship hit your psyche like a stone to the temple.

While Bill was holding Kate, you were held together by panic attacks and the fragile remains of composure. Of all the girls in the world, he chose the loudest, most annoying, hysterical copy of you.

That bitch never missed a chance to hang off his arm in crowded hallways, wearing him like a trophy. Loud, suggestive comments about you became background noise, harder and harder to ignore. Kate didn’t hesitate to remind you, again and again, that Bill was hers now — as if he were a prize in some long-forgotten competition.

Your patience melted like ice cream under the April sun — slowly dissolving into a sticky puddle of the urge to drag her by the hair until her damn mouth would never open in your direction again.

Today wasn’t any different. Standing by the lockers with your friend, you heard that familiar, irritating laugh.

"How are you still holding up? I would’ve knocked her teeth out already," — your friend muttered, shaking her head in mild disbelief. "Listen," — you slowly turned to her, — "You’re right..."

The locker door under your hand suddenly slammed shut. The last thing you clearly remembered was your friend’s pale face right before adrenaline hit your head like a wave.

Your sudden appearance threw Kate off for a moment, followed by a failed attempt at a sarcastic remark — but your fingers in her hair cut her performance short from the start. Her body slammed into the metal lockers with a sharp sound and slid down to the floor. Insults flew in a shrill voice as she tried to get up and defend herself. But it wasn’t enough for you anymore — the first real hit landed straight on her nose, breaking it and sending it bleeding under pig-like screams echoing across the floor. Destroying her face felt like it lasted forever. Strike after strike, you methodically hit her, sitting on top of her, until two basketball players dragged you off her.

Bill’s appearance was the final touch. His brown eyes widened in shock as he took in the blood splattered across the floor next to his girlfriend, lying at the center of a crowd. You didn’t try to go back, even though they still held your arms just in case. Kate twitched so pathetically when they finally let you go, but you just stepped past her and disappeared into the girls’ restroom.

Water stung your scraped knuckles as you leaned over the sink. The door slammed open, forcing you to look up. In the mirror’s reflection stood Bill.

"You do realize this is the girls’ restroom?" — you said flatly.

"Fuck, why did you do that?" — he ignored your remark entirely, shifting his weight between his feet, torn between anger and shock. His hand grabbed your shoulder roughly. — "What were you even thinking?!" — he stepped closer, looking down at you.

"No need for sermons." — you pointed toward the door. — "You should’ve done that a long time ago. What are you even doing here? Go comfort your girl!"

"I don’t understand you." — his fingers tightened on your shoulder, shaking you like a doll. — "First you leave me, and now you’re pissed off and beating up..." — he hesitated. — "Kate..."