Phil had second degree burns on his lower arm and the top of his hand.
Dan ran Phil to the bathroom, filled the sink with cold water, and told him to keep it submerged. He then ran for his phone, trying desperately to ignore Phil's cries, and frantically called PJ and told him to bring Chris and to stop at a pharmacy and get antiseptic or antibacterial cream and some form of bandages and to hurry the fuck up.
Dan returned to Phil ten minutes later.
Phil still had his arm submerged in the ice water, and he had his head resting in his other hand, whimpering. Dan cringed. He stepped forward to see the damage. The burns weren't very large, but they were definitely there.
There was a smaller area on his hand, which was red and looked like it was beginning to form into a blister. He had longer, wider burns higher up on his arm, and these burns looked deep red, and a bit glossy.
"How are you feeling?" Dan asked, softly.
"Peachy."
He chuckled. "I'm going to clean the kitchen up."
Dan swept up the broken glass in the doorway, wrapped it up in newspaper and disposed of it. He then picked up kettle that he'd dropped and mopped the water up. After a moment of thought, he refilled the kettle and put it on to boil. Waiting for the water, he decided to check messages and maybe see what was happening on Twitter.
He scrolled through his timeline and saw something that caught his eye.
Unexplained rise of suicide cases spreads throughout the country.
Someone he followed had read an article written about two weeks ago on an online paper. He skimmed through it.
..unusual amount of suicide throughout the UK...always seemed to be found by close family or friends...authorities are dumbfounded...witnesses tell of "white eyes" and "oblivious manner.
What's going on?
Just then, he heard frantic knocks at the door.
He put his phone away and pushed his thoughts far into his mind.