91 Danny's POV
I couldn't do this, I couldn't just watch all the time, I couldn't watch and let Tom suffer by himself. He was having panic attacks over doing something as simple as choosing dinner. His damn wife had screwed up his head so much he couldn't even make such a simple decision without having a God damn panic attack.
I hated her, I hated her with everything I had. That woman had ruined everything, she had ruined Tom, destroyed everything he once was and turned him into an empty shell, one who was so uptight and stressed out he couldn't do the simplest of things. How was that fair? How was it at all fair that he was like this? Why did this happen to him? Why couldn't she have been nice, and normal, like we had all thought she was? That woman was a monster, and if I could get my hands on her... words couldn't describe what I'd do to her if I could get my hands on her.
We should have noticed something too. We should have noticed Tom disappearing before our very eyes. But we didn't. We thought he was tired. That he was feeling ill. That he was having a bad time with his bipolar. We never suspected his wife, or what was happening behind closed doors. How couldn't we have noticed? It was Tom, and we didn't notice that his wife was bullying him to the point where he lost basically everything that made him, him. And we missed that, were completely oblivious to it all. I thought I was observant when it came to my friends, I thought I noticed when things were wrong, had trained myself to notice when things were wrong, so no-one suffered in silence anymore. How didn't I see this? The most important thing and I didn't see it.
With a growl, I swung my fist into the door frame, pain flaring up my arm. It was a good pain though, a distraction, from the frustration, the anger, I felt. I hated myself for not noticing anything, for being unable to help when it was needed. I needed to get the anger out somehow, and I refused to let Tom see, refused to let him think he had caused any of it, or that he couldn't trust me, because of my emotions.
The pain radiated around my hand, throbbing in time with my breaths. I cradled it close, wishing I could do something similar to Tom. Let him know that I was there, that I wouldn't let him fall through the cracks, that I'd keep him protected. But he wouldn't let me, he didn't have any idea about how to deal with comfort or affection. His wife had even taken that from him, his ability to ask for emotional comfort. He managed it with his son, but anyone older than that and he didn't know what to do. Hell he didn't even know how to have a conversation anymore! He looked terrified to talk to us, like we would hurt him for talking. Talking.
Helplessly, I slid down the wall, curling into a ball and sobbing into my knees. I just felt so helpless, and I didn't have a clue on what to do to help the situation. There didn't seem to be anything I could do, apart from being supportive of my friend. But I wanted to do more, I wanted to hold him close, prove to him that things could get better. That love was real, that there was such a thing as good relationships. That he was deserving on love and affection, and that there was nothing wrong with him. His wife was in the wrong, not him. That she was the one with the problems, and that he was safe now. He didn't need to be scared of us, because we were the good guys here.
I wanted to prove to Tom that relationships worked. That I loved him. That he didn't need to be anything but himself to be accepted. That he was worthy, and didn't need to be so scared all the time. I wanted him to know that he could be safe with us, with me.