Chapter 12: Phil's thoughts

Phil lay in bed, thinking. If he had to guess he would say it had been about an hour since the film had finished, but he wasn't sure. The passing of time seemed to change whenever Phil had to think.

I don't think Dan understands how much trouble we could get in. He's right of course, we aren't doing anything wrong, but are people really going to believe that? There was nothing illegal about them kissing, they were both giving consent, but would people believe that was all they were doing?

He found himself wishing he was Dan's age. Everything would be so much easier. Dave would have to watch them sure, but people wouldn't look down on them. Phil wouldn't have to worry about leaving. It would be so easy.

I don't know what to do. I can't leave him, I already know that. I care too much, and I wouldn't be able to look at him everyday knowing that I had feelings for him. I just want people to leave us alone. Was it really bad for him to be happy? Was it really bad that someone cared about him?

He felt cursed, as though every time he got close to someone, they were pulled apart. Him and his parents, him and PJ, him and Dan. He remembered how PJ used to care, until he left. His visits became less and less frequent, and he became more and more distant until he was just calling. Then nothing. He remembered how he used to be so happy, how his parents used to care.

He wasn't sure when these memories stopped being memories and became dreams. Soon however he was shivering in cupboard under the stairs, listening to his parents screaming. He was in filthy clothes that he'd been wearing for at least 8 days, and his stomach was grumbling. This was obviously the really bad times, the times when the only meals he ever got for 3 months were the school lunches. He heard his dad's low bellow. "Stupid BITCH! Do you think I don't know? Keep your eyes to yourself you stupid tart!". He heard sobbing and a pleading voice, his mothers "I wasn't looking at him, I promise!" BANG. Phil shot out of the cupboard, desperate to protect his mother. He ran along the corridor, heart pounding, but it just seemed to get longer. The door got further and further away, and he sped up, desperate to get there. Eventually he got there, and he looked around. There was his mother, lying on the floor, mascara running down her face with her tears. His dad was stood above her, fist raised. "Dad, please!" Phil's younger self pleaded. The man turned to face him, fist still raised, and Phil was frozen. A sinister laugh and a voice echoing in his head "You need to toughen up boy." A blow to the head, the cold floor pressed against his cheek. His mothers trembling voice "Darling, let me sort him out." The hope, rising in his chest, like a bird rising from its perch. He was yanked up roughly by his hair, and the bird hit the top of its cage. He opened his eyes, pain searing through his scalp, his head being banged into corners as he was dragged up the stairs. His door was opened and he was thrown against his bed. A sharp slap across the cheek. A voice screaming at him "Stay here you worthless piece of shit. Don't you get it? You're not wanted. You're a mistake. It's all your fault!" A door slams, key clicks in a lock. Rocking backwards and forwards "I'm sorry!" All his fault.

I'm sorry

He tossed and turned the whole night, sleep plagued by nightmares.