WARNING: TRIGGERING THEMES IN THIS CHAPTER SUCH AS SELF HARM, SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, AND EATING DISORDER! PLEASE DON'T READ IF YOU WILL BE OFFENDED IN ANY WAY!
Phil's POV (3 days later)
I heard multiple knocks on my bedroom door and I groaned.
"What Dan?" I said.
"Phil come on. You've been in your room all day. Don't you want to come out? Eat something?"
"No go away! I'm just sick!" I lied quickly. The truth was, my appetite was gone and I had starting losing interest in everything. Things I'd loved, video games, movies, YouTube... they just didn't jump out at me the way they used to. And to be honest, I was scared. I couldn't help but think people would judge me and I had started noticing how dangerous the world was. The car crash really opened my eyes.
"Oh Phil, why didn't you say something? Do you want anything?" he said.
"No I'm fine. "
After a few moments he said,"Alright Phil. I'm here if you need me." I heard him walk away from my room. You really fucked up Phil. He's your boyfriend. He deserves so much more than you... you pathetic waste of space. I hated that voice, but I knew it was right. I looked over at my desk. Would that really help?
No Phil you shouldn't.
I need to.
Stop it!
Come on Phil. Just give in. You'll feel so much better.
I slowly stood up, ignoring the bickering in my head. Using my crutches, I walked over to my desk and picked up a pair of scissors. I started gently crying as I rolled up my sleeve, wondering why it had come to this. I didn't want it, but I needed it. I swiftly moved the blade across my wrist. I felt my skin tear open as warm blood, trickled from the cut. I should've felt pain, but all I could think of was the relief. I cut again and again. 4, 5, 6, 7... I was numb to the pain but I still had to bite my lip to keep back a sob.
Once I was done, I wiped up the blood, rolled down my sleeve, and layed back down. I was left alone to my thoughts, but that was scarier than anything I could even imagine going on outside the safety of my room.
...
Dan's POV
I was worried sick about Phil. He locked himself in his room and he's been in there the past two days. Was he really that sick? I knew something was off, but I just couldn't figure it out. I figured I would try talking to him again. It's been almost an hour, so hopefully he's ready to talk.
I headed down the hall to his room and I gently knocked.
"Phil? Are you okay?" I said.
"I'm fine," he said quickly.
"No come on Phil. Please eat something. When was the last time you ate?"
"It doesn't matter... I'm fine."
"Phil answer the question. Was the last thing you ate Chinese 3 days ago?" I said. No. It couldn't have been that long. He wouldn't do that... would he?
Silence.
"Phil... please. You're not gonna get better unless you eat," I said quietly. After waiting a few moments for an answer which never came, I slowly walked back to the living room. I need to help him. But how?
About an hour later, I heard a door creek open and I jumped up. Phil slowly made his way into the room. He looked pale and tired.
"Phil! Are you feeling better? Do you want something to eat? I can cook you something if you want," I said quickly.
"No no I'm okay. I just felt bad for not answering you," he stuttered. That's when I realized... he looked absolutely terrified.
"Umm are you sure you're okay?" I said.
"Yeah... yeah. You're just not mad. Right?"
"No of course not!"
"Okay... I-I just wanted to make sure," he said. He started to turn around, but I stopped him.
"Phil wait! Please eat something. You'll feel so much better,"
"No I'm really not hungry."
"Oh come on," I said. I nudged him and led him into the kitchen. I really felt bad forcing him to eat, but he had to. He sat down at the table and quickly started making chicken noodle soup. Once it was done, I separated it into two bowls and carefully brought it over to the table. He looked down at it and I could clearly see the disgust on his face.
"Phil..." I said softly. "I know you don't want to eat, but it will help. I promise."
He slowly started eating and I gave him a soft smile.
...
Phil's POV
Dan's watching... I have no choice. I choked down the soup as best I could. Everything was worse. I felt empty and lonely even though Dan was right across from me. I felt scared of everything, the world, other people... me. All of a sudden felt another urge to cut. Just wait until you get back to your room. Not too long now.
"I think I had enough. Thank you Dan," I said getting up.
"It's no problem Phil... do you want anything else?"
I felt so guilty lying to him, but he couldn't know why I was staying in my room. He would be ashamed, to have this pathetic excuse for a boyfriend. A boyfriend who's scared of everything, depressed, cutting, throwing up his food, and suicidal.
"No I'm alright. I'm just gonna use the bathroom and then head back to my room," I said. He looked hesitant.
"Well... okay I guess." I made my way to the bathroom as quickly as possible. I had to get this food out of me as soon as possible. I closed the door behind me and kneeled down as best I could with my cast in front of the toilet. I stuck two fingers down my throat and put pressure on my stomach, like I had done many times before. I let it all out, but within a couple seconds the door swung open. Luckily, I had already taken my fingers out of my mouth. Dan kneeled down next to me and lightly rubbed small circles on my back.
"Shhh... it's alright Phil. Let it all out," He said soothingly. The guilt just made me throw up more. Once I was done, I sighed and leaned back against Dan's chest. He combed my hair out of my face and pressed a light kiss to my sweaty forehead. He flushed the toilet and wiped up my face. Once he was done, he carefully lifted me up and carried me bridal style to my bedroom. He put me down on the bed and put a small garbage can next to me.
"Do you want anything else Phil?" he said. I want my scissors. I couldn't say that though so I slightly shook my head.
"Alright. I'll be in the living room if you need me. If you want anything, just shout," He said giving me another quick kiss on my forehead. I gave him a small smile as he left the room. After waiting a couple minutes to make sure I was in the clear, I quietly got up and grabbed my scissors. I cut again and again all up both of my arms. Oh how I wanted to cut deeper. Just let it all be over. I felt myself sway a bit, so I forced myself to put down the scissors. Luckily, I got back to my bed before my legs gave out. I sighed. I have to be done cutting for today. I have to let the cuts heal. About an hour later, I felt myself drift off to sleep. The only place I was safe.
