Sad. That is how I feel. Sad. And angry. I lost him. The only person that I ever truly loved is dead and I couldn't help him. Sad and angry, but not scared. Just... sad and angry.. and alone.
Dan POV (Earlier that day)
I was sitting in my bedroom, again. This was the third time this week I had to come and think, just to keep from doing it again. I stared intently at the bedroom door. I could have easily just walked over to it, opened it, went to the bathroom, shutting the door, and taken out my hidden blade, ignoring Phil's pleas to open up. But, i couldnt. Not with Phil in the living room. Not with Phil there to stop me.
So I waited, and waited, until Phil's beautiful voice rang out from the living room. "Dan! Im heading to the shop." I called back an answer and I listened for him to leave. Apon hearing the door shut, i swiftly ran to the bathroom. I didnt bother locking the now slightly ajar door, being that i would probably hear Phil walk in.
Climbing into the bath, I took off the loose tile from the wall, behind it was 3 blades. The first, a small blade, only able to leave small cuts behind, this one i often used for small, quick punishments, when Phil was around. The second, a large, almost a butcher sized, knife. This one often met my wrists when i did something or thought something completely dirty, and only if Phil was leaving for an hour or two. The third, my favorite, was a medium sized, ordinary kitchen knife. It was small enough that i could use it when Phil was asleep or only gone for a few minutes, but large enough to be a valid punishment for the, now, everyday thoughts i was having.
That was the knife i grabbed as i sat on my knees, on the floor of the bathroom, next to the bath.