The gleam of a new, silver blade shone up at Dan from the bathroom shelf. It was so tempting. But he promised Phil he wouldn't…
Storming back towards his bedroom, Dan engulfed his face into a pillow, throwing himself down on his bed. 'I won't do it. I can't give up now.' Dan muttered almost silently to no one in particular, willing himself to be strong, to resist, to stop this torture. He had been completely clean for a whole week now, would it be worth just throwing this all away for one single cut? This was the one question, which he asked himself on a daily basis. Right now, he needed Phil. He didn't think he could physically survive without hearing his voice. As Dan contemplated returning and locking himself away to commit the crime against himself, he ran his eyes over his arms. Laced with pain, his battle scars as he referred to them. Surely, surely just one more couldn't do any more damage than was already done. It wasn't like anyone would notice… Dan continued his inner fight with himself until he had had enough and just could not take this pain any longer. He sprinted to the bathroom, a horrendous mixture of regret and relief combining within his stomach as he reached for his weapon of choice. He closed his eyes as the blade sliced his skin, the immediate release seeping through his body, blood and bones. Doubled with hatred for himself. What had he done? No, he didn't need to do that at all. What the hell had it achieved? A single second of painlessness within his own brain.
With layers of thick deep blood flowing from his new battle scar, Dan allowed a single tear of regret to escape from his saddened eyes, lying helpless on the tiled bathroom floor. Dan considered phoning Phil, but he couldn't help, for god's sake, he was in Florida with his family. What did he expect? 'Oh yeah, I'll be right over, just wait there for 8 hours whilst I get a flight back just to comfort you.' Dan sarcastically imagined within his mind. Unlike Phil, Dan's mind was tainted with anger and unhappiness, but unable to suppress these thoughts, the only way Dan could ever find a break was through incessant self-harm, whether that be cutting or overdosing, Dan just had to find a way to forget. A way to release.
He needed to get out. Experience a new environment. Leave his pain behind. But that was impossible. The closest thing Dan could do to that was make his way to the old abandoned house near his own home where he spent most of his time when he felt pained. It had been empty for years, unattended and without an owner, so as with any abandoned building, it had been overtaken by passing druggies, alcoholics and just teenagers looking to wreak some havoc, but they had all gradually become bored with this house now, moving to new places. Dan seemed to be the only person who ever consistently visited anymore. He had at least attempted to create an area where he could feel happy to exist, although that was near impossible, and he had adorned the tatty walls with as many posters and drawings as he could to improve the house slightly. This was now where Dan found himself, having dragged himself from the floor of his own bathroom and ambled towards his house of refuge.
Dan really did like this place, but for some unknown reason. There was no particular appeal, at least he couldn't find it if one existed. He always just settled on the fact that he could do anything he liked here without judgement, without being watched by prying eyes, invading and spying. Taking his life as their own. Having given up on school long ago, Dan took to cutting generally out of boredom, it gave him a distraction. But then as his life took a turn for the worse, it became a sort of release for him. A single way to rid his life of the pain and torture which he was feeling. A break from his never-ending unhappiness. His parents became sick of him, repulsed even, becoming ever closer to throwing him out on the streets. With no qualifications to speak of, the likelihood of him getting a job was small, but it wasn't like he was putting in much of an effort anyway. His only safe escape became Phil. The two met when Dan was at his lowest and Phil was always there to help, never judgemental towards him. Phil helped him through as much as he could. Phil had been through many of Dan's troubles himself, and even had his own 'battle scars' to show for it, but he had overcome his past and was set on helping Dan to as well. Whenever Dan fell, Phil was always there to pick him up again and set him straight. Phil was Dan's lifeline when he needed it the most.
Dan found Phil in the abandoned house admiring the walls which Dan had decorated himself about a year ago, and their story began from there. Dan would call Phil his best friend, but in reality, Phil was probably his only friend. They went through traumas together, talking over problems and helping each other through, but although Dan listened, he simply could not overcome his problems and the cutting was the worst. He really did try to stop, not just for himself, but also for Phil as well, and the promises which Dan made to him. Honestly, he managed for around a week at the most, but he just could not prevent himself from becoming taken over by his emotions and the voices in his head, willing him to inflict this pain upon himself. By this point, Dan had usually convinced himself that one single cut could not do anymore harm than any other previous one, and he always fought a losing battle with himself, as had happened, just moments before. Dan honestly didn't believe he could overcome this hurdle, even with Phil's support, and gave in to himself each and every time he felt even the slightest bit weak. Cut, cut, cut. What difference did it make? None. None whatsoever. Cut, cut, cut. He was weak, but no one cared. Cut, cut, cut. Had he finally escaped the torments of his life? No? Better try again.
He could try to overdose, one more time. A single gulp was all it would take. Dan kept a stash of emergency pills in the old house for this exact reason, if it all got too much, the combination of missing Phil, the endless pains of his life, and wonderment of death could drive him to it. 10, 20, 30 pills, what did it matter how many he took as long as they did the job. One final swallow and it would all be over. Ready to once again imagine his death, Dan threw himself on the floor and closed his hazel eyes. He laid there, his final breaths hitching through his pale lips, becoming paler by the second. No one would find him here, which was the best part, he thought. Until Phil returned to see him.
Realisation of what he could do hit him. At this point, it would be far too late. He could already be almost gone, vision hazing and breaths slowing, as he would cry out for Phil, hating himself for making Phil experience this. Dan would think about his own selfishness and thoughtlessness towards Phil, and hate himself. What was new there then? With unhopeful thoughts that Phil wouldn't be the discoverer or his lifeless and limp body, Dan would drift off into a never-ending sleep, taunted with visions of Phil and no one else. But it would all be over now. That was his only positive in this situation. Without even so much as a goodbye, Dan would be gone. Another innocent life taken by evil. It was unnecessary, but at the same time, would lessen the suffering of his body, but that would only transferred the suffering to someone else, that someone being Phil.
Upon discovering his body, Dan imagined Phil would break down. He would think Dan was stronger than this. He would not have left if he knew Dan would have such a hard time. Oh god how he would wish he could have been there to help him, guide him, just stop his suffering another way. But as tempting as it was, Phil would never be able to willingly join Dan in the realm of the unhappy, of the damned. Crying in the corner, Phil would look over at the seemingly sleeping Dan with emotions flowing through him. And then leave him. Alone, Phil would walk out. There can be no help for the dead, he would think.
Awaking from his imagination, Dan suddenly realised how many tears he had shed. Covered in a now damp shirt, Dan vowed to never force Phil to go through the tragedy, which he had just witnessed in his mind. No one, other than himself should have to experience that, he thought. Eventually deciding to return home in the now pitch black, only a few streetlamps to light his way home, Dan flushed away his final, still bloody, blade, the thought of Phil staining his mind's eye. The look on his regretful face, his shaking, ghostly hands as he touched Dan's face one last time, and the realisation of how much pain he could potentially cause for Phil. He was innocent! He didn't deserve this… These thoughts combined drove Dan to remove his final escape, to flush a blade one last time. Never would he force Phil, whom he cared about so very much, to experience his death. And although he was constantly so tempted to reach for another blade, Dan never gave in, never released this way. Not until the next time he felt the urge, so very strong, that he would be in a situation so dire that he would feel the need to cut again, would he strain against his will. With the dying thought of Phil resting in his mind, Dan became slightly happier and was able to sleep soundly. Dan prayed that his taunting thoughts would break off for at least a few days, give him a slight rest away from constant torture. Hopefully, he thought. Hopefully.