I'm only asleep for a few minutes when Phil calls me to the kitchen for pancakes. He didn't burn them this time, even though he usually does. They're really nice, but they would be, given how hungry I am.
Phil tries to start conversation, but I can't look him in the eye. I'm lying to him. I hate it. Checking outside, I notice it's still raining. But the misty drizzle is changing into a more violent downpour. I almost feel sick watching it. All this time I locked my feelings away, but I can't hide forever.
Saying I need to sleep, I go back to my room.
I'm so afraid.
What have I done?
It's been a long time since I let myself think about this. But I must now. I must decide what I'm going to do, whether I'm going to tell anyone. My first instinct is to tell Phil, because out of everyone I know, I trust him the most. No, I can't. Whatever happens, I refuse to let him be caught up in it.
What I should do is block out all my emotions like I did and go back to being normal. That's impossible. As well as not lasting forever, it's almost painful. I care too much, and it's cruel to me to pretend I don't.
What else can I do? A voice in the back of my head tells me to go with it. I can't stop this, now I've started, so why should I try? I could just give in.
Maybe that's what I'll do…
Phil comes in later to see if I'm okay, as he's noticed that I haven't eaten much today. I lie, telling him I feel a bit ill, and he offers to get some medicine, which I decline.
I might really hurt him. Heck, I might kill him. I've never thought about it before, because I thought I could control what I am. But I could kill him.
I don't want to think about it.
At around 7pm, I do start to feel sick. Not like I'm going to vomit, I just feel drained. Like every movement takes so much more effort. My sight is blurred and hazy, and the noises I should be hearing seem choked and distorted.
I burrow under my covers, and try to settle down, but all I can hear is the fierce squall outside, spitting rain in all directions. It is a long time before I finally manage to fall asleep.
I wake up at 10am, as Phil complains that I'm not awake, apparently forgetting I'm supposed to be ill. Feeling less weak than I did yesterday, I force myself to get out of bed, and get dressed.
Phil needs to go to the shops again. According to the weather forecast, the rest of the week is supposed to be violent storms and rain, but today should be fine all day. I still don't want to go outside. I remind Phil I'm ill.
Insisting that fresh air will make me better, Phil drags me to the door. This irritates me slightly, and I hear the wind surge. I can't win here.
As soon as I step outside, I am overwhelmed. The wind is teasing me. I look down, and focus on nothing as I walk, feeling like I am about to surrender to this longing for freedom.
"Dan are you okay?" Phil says, taking me away from my thoughts.
I remain silent.
"Dan?" he repeats, "Are you sure you're okay?"
I want to answer. But if I say no, I'll be lying again. Maybe I should explain, ask for help, before it becomes too late. I can't think what he'll do though, when I tell him. Why don't I know what to do? This is so unfair.
"Phil," I begin finally.
He looks at me expectantly. I shake my head.
"I…um…don't feel too good. I'm going back home. See you later."
I turn back to go home, but he grabs my arm.
"I know you're not okay," he says, "and I know you're hiding something. Please, just tell me and I can help."
"No, Phil, you can't."
Why doesn't he accept that? This is my fight, and if I lose I will not drag anyone else down with me. I turn to walk away, but he really is not leaving me alone. He snaps, yells at me. Says he's just trying to help.
"Phil!" I say back, trying to keep calm, "Please, I just want some time alone, okay?"
He apologises immediately, over and over. I forgive him, of course, and he looks away. I look at his eyes. They are red. Phil's crying.
I hate myself for doing this to him. I really do. Why did I do this? None of this is Phil's fault. I notice my anger at myself, and try to calm down, but I'm too far gone.
A flash of lightning flickers over London, accompanied immediately by a roll of thunder. A storm is close.
The light breeze becomes aggressive. The trees sway and branches snap.
Oh shit…
The next things happen in a matter of seconds. The wind speed goes nowhere but up. The smaller trees snap into splinters, and the larger ones have branches ripped from them. Everyone runs for cover, fighting the gale just to move. It's like a hurricane. What have I done?
I see tiles from the rooves fragment on the ground. Most of them just fall to the floor to add to the other splinters of things broken by the wind, but some are hitting people. People display bruises and gashes. I stare hopelessly at the horror I have created, and now have no power to stop.
A cluster of tiles come loose on a roof near where we stand. I see them out of the corner of my eye, knowing they will hit me, when I am shoved out of the way. Strong as the wind is against him, Phil shoved me away from them.
They hit his head. I think it was his temple. I watch as he crumples in a heap on the floor.
