So here it is, chapter 2. Same warnings still apply. Please be safe.

(Chapter song: Chiodos - Intensity In Ten Cities)

Phil read Dan's note over and over to himself not wanting to believe any of it, wishing that it was all just some terrible dream and that he would wake from it at any moment. Wishing that all this blood was and Dan being taken away by an ambulance was just some sort of hallucination.

But he knew that this wasn't a dream, this wasn't a hallucination. He could still hear Dan whispering his name as the paramedics took him away, leaving him alone on the floor soaked in his lovers blood. He couldn't stop thinking about what Dan was going to say to him as they were taking him away. What if he hadn't been able to hear the last thing that Dan was gong to ever say to him? What if he was never going to be able to hold him again? To hear his voice again? To see him smile? To hear his laugh?

'NO! I can't think like that,' he mentally hushes himself, 'Dan is going to be fine, I will hear his voice again, I will hear it for the rest of my life. Everything is going to be just fine. He will live. I'll help him through this.'

Then he remembers that Dan's note told him that the journal would explain what had caused this. Frantically he grabbed the still open journal from in front of him and flipped back a couple of pages to the beginning of the last entry.

This is from last week, oh no Dan...

He takes a deep breath, wipes the tears from his eyes so he can read, and begins.

"Dream:

When it started Phil and I were in this huge green field. We were walking silently towards this huge marble tower when he stopped and turned to face me. He looked me in the eye and said, "Dan, you know that I'm in love with you right? Your all I care about in the world. You're everything to me."

I smiled and nodded, but said nothing, he kissed me sweetly then took my hand in his and we resumed walking. Phil had just told me that he loved me, truly loved me, but for some reason I thought that he was most likely lying to me. Even if he wasn't I still remembered all the things that were done to me (which was the same in the dream as in real life)and I still felt the same about myself and my life. His declaration of love didn't outshine the pain I had felt for so long like I hoped it would. I felt hopeless, but I didn't show it.

I thought that dreams were a place where people could escape from their problems, but obviously that isn't the case for me.

After I left I somehow ended up sitting on the side of this huge, deep, dark pool that looked like it turned into a river somewhere down the line since I couldn't see an end to it. Also the water was fresh, not chlorinated. It was extremely clean and beautiful, so clean that I could see straight to the dark bottom. It reminded me of that river running through Zurich it was so clean. As I sat there I just staring into the water just thinking about what it would feel like to jump in, sink to the bottom, and let all of the air break free from my lungs.

I tried to tell myself that everything was going to be fine, but once the thought came to me I couldn't escape it and I just kept picturing it over and over. The thought of how it would feel to finally give up and stop trying was a terribly pleasant one.

I waited as the few people who were at the pool or in the surrounding gardens dissipated so that I would be able to fight my mind in peace, it was very distracting to have others around. It was beginning to get dark so people were leaving rather quickly not wanting to stay out when the sun went away. When they were all gone I let out a sigh of relief and closed my eyes to try and get a handle on all the thoughts I was having. That one image of sinking refused to leave me alone, it was intoxicating and in that moment it was all I desired.

The scene played through my mind in a continuous loop till I had every angle memorised, till I finally gave up attempting to convince myself that it was not a good idea. I gave in, I realised that it would happen sooner or later and now seemed like the perfect moment to be done with all the pain. With that I slowly pushed myself off of the edge of the pool. I felt the cool water embrace me like it had been there just waiting for me to do this my entire life. I kept my head above the surface knowing that once I went under I would not be able to come up with some final reason to stop. At the same time I knew that even if I floated there for an hour I still wouldn't be able to come up with anything. So I gave up.

It didn't take long before I took my final breath and sunk my head beneath the surface, pushing myself down towards the deepest spot I could find. When I reached the bottom I took hold of this loop of rope attached part to the uneven bed before taking one last look up. I took that last moment to try to taken in the beauty of the distorted trees high above the pool and the last specks of the sun reflecting light through the water that would soon be the death of me. With that I let the air flow out of my lungs and watched the only thing that was keeping me alive flee to the surface as I took in a breath of water.

It was painful, more painful than I remembered. My lungs felt as though they were on fire and the pressure seemed to increase greatly as the water began to crush me from all sides. But I found that the pressure and the pain was not unwelcome, in fact it felt freeing knowing that it would be the last thing that I would feel. I enjoyed the idea of that and, despite the intense pain, I felt myself begin to smile a real smile.

Then, as quickly as it had come, all pain was gone and my limbs went limp. I felt at peace surrounded in the cool water looking up at the beauty of the trees and water again. I could no longer feel my body and the numbness was pure bliss. I felt my eyes grow heavy and I had no objections to closing them and letting the darkness embrace me as I began to float away.

Something disturbed the water and I opened my eyes enough to see that Phil was dragging my body off the bottom of the pool. It occurred to me that it was odd that I was not in my body, but the thought quickly dissipated when I saw the look of despair on Phil's face. I really had hoped that he would not be the one to find me, but he did. He must have seen me from our room or come out at exactly the wrong time.

I watched him as he surfaced, pulling me out of the water, setting me down next to the pool, and begins to push on my chest then breathe into my lugs repeatedly fighting to make me take another breath. The tears began to fall down his still soaked face and he started screaming something. But his voice is not there, I could only see his lips moving as he kept fighting to make me live.

I can't describe how it felt to watch him try so hard even though he knew there was nothing that he could do. It was heartbreaking, I wished that I could comfort him, tell him it was all going to be fine, that I was okay, that I was finally free. All I could do was watch him break in front of me.

Eventually he stopped trying to revive me and instead buried his head in my shoulder and pulled me up into his arms. I watched helplessly as his body shook while he sobbed over and over again, whispering something that I could not hear. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, that I didn't want him to feel pain, but my body was gone and he could no longer hear the words I was trying to say to him.

And then it was over. I woke up, face soaked from tears and looked over to see Phil sleeping peacefully next to me with no knowledge that he was crying into my dead body only seconds ago in my mind."

Phil stares down at Dan's journal in his hands again not wanting to believe a word. His head falls to his hands and he curls into himself. Dan, his Dan had dreamt something like this and had not told him? Not woken him? He felt this way and had not told him anything. Why hadn't he asked for his help? Why?

How could this have happened? What did I do? How did I not know?

These thoughts run though Phil's head as he sits there on the ground in the exact spot that Dan was when he decided to end it all, holding a journal that not only held Dan's note, but all his deepest secrets within its binding.

It takes him a minute before he can lift his head from his hands and stop sobbing long enough so that he can see again. He frantically wipes the tears away in an attempt to be able to read again. When his vision returns to him enough he flips to the beginning of the journal. The date on the top of the entry says that it is from over two years ago. The tears begin to free fall from his eyes again as he starts to read from the tattered, old (and now newly) tear stained page.

"I hate what I do to myself, so much so that I do it again and again, over and over, I can't stop. Everything that I do to release my pain, to make me feel at least a bit in control just makes me feel more ashamed of myself. So many other people have it so much worse than I do and they're able to deal with it, but I'm not strong enough to deal with my shit. Why am I so weak, so worthless?

I know that it is not human nature to hurt oneself, in fact we are programmed to protect ourselves. And yet, even with the genetic need to live, I still do these things I do over and over hoping for the same results every time, but being too afraid or cowardly to cary it out.

To not wake again. To cease to exist. How can something be so bad that you don't wish to even try to continue living? How can I be so weak that to end it is the only answer I can think of? To end knowing that the end is the end, no hope for there to be anything after, just nothing.

There are some days I wake up and everything feels fine, normal, even good for a short time, like everything that happened was just a bad dream. I live for those moments when I have the ability to breathe without feeling like I have to fight to make myself take the next one, but then it all fades away and I am left alone again. The feeling of being okay always fades, sometimes it takes minutes and then others only a few fleeting seconds before I realise that it was not a dream and that I'm far from fine.

It takes so much for me to move, to will myself to face the day, to ready myself for a day of pretending that everything is fine.

Everything's fine.

I don't know how many times I've told myself that fully aware that I was lying to myself, that everything is not fine. I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself..

At least I have my mask perfected. People who can usually see past the lie can't see past mine, that's how good it is. They all believe the lie.

I read somewhere that writing your thoughts, feelings, and memories down helps you work through them. I figured that I could at least try, I don't know if it will help me but I have to try.

So here is me, trying. I don't know how much longer I can hold on, I want to be one of those success stories but I really don't see that happening. After everything... it's just too much.

Here's to trying."

The journal falls from his hand's and he brings his knees up to his chest and breaks down once again.

These were Dan's words, Dan's feelings, they were so terrible and he had been feeling them all this time. Silently suffering, never complaining, never asking for the help that he so desperately needed. He seemed fine, he put on a face, a 'mask every day that fooled me, fooled everyone. I never noticed what was hidden behind it.

I have to go, Phil thinks, I have to be there for Dan. Okay, what do I need to bring? Damn it Phil, just get up!

Still shaking, Phil gets to his feet, packs a small bag with clothes for Dan and himself as well as some other little trinkets he thinks Dan would want. He almost makes it out of the door before he remembers Dan's journal is still laying on the floor. He moves back to where he dropped and hesitantly picks it up. He stares at the blood-stained journal for a few moments before stuffing it into his bag and walking out of the door towards the lift.

Dan is going to wake up, he has to, and when he does I need to be there to show him he has a reason to live and that I am there for him forever. He's going to wake up, he has to. He just has to. If he doesn't... I don't know what I'll do, nothing good...