No, I'm Just Delusional (Phan) RE-WRITE IN PROCESS

It's All My Fault

Dan-

 I am scared of who I am and what I have done. I sit there on a cold park bench in the middle of the night, with my head in my hands. I don't know what to feel anymore. There are so many thoughts swirling around in my head and I don't know how to control them or at least manage them. I feel like every single hurtful thing I have said to Phil is coming into my brain, clouding my thoughts.

There is a painful feeling in my stomach, I feel like I'm going to be sick. It is similar to the feeling you get when your on a roller coaster and you drop, only magnified and mixed with nausea and a pounding headache. I just want to sleep. Yet I can't sleep on a park bench. I need to go home.

But I can't. I can't face him. I just left him. Of all the things I could of done that was probably the worst thing I could of done. He needed me and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I needed him as well. I needed him to have some grip on reality. I know what he is going through all the pain and suffering. I might not know what memories he is reliving but I can understand how hard it is to take hold of your self and try to forget about it. Because you can't.

I have tried to forget, but it is practically impossible. The panic attack Phil had earlier is only going to make him more sensitive and I need to make sure he doesn't get the wrong idea and understands that I'm only here, because I know what he is dealing with. I can't help but feel that that isn't the only reason. I have no idea what is all bottled up in his head, but as far as I can tell it isn't good.

I have to go back. I think of Phil, laying on my bed feeling upset and confused. He is probably crying. Thinking about everything. I cringe into the chair when I realise that I am going to have to face him. He probably hates me. He probably thinks I am disgusting. I am. I scratch my arms impulsively. I jump off of the chair, when realisation hits.

My razor.

“Holy shit.” I mutter under my breath. I know how much pain he must be feeling and I can't help but feel a hundred time worse. What if he found it? It isn't that hard to find. I'm the only one who ever goes into my room so I never really hide it. I can't help the panic that overwhelms me. If anything ever happened to him, I would never forgive myself.

 This is all my fault.

I start jogging and as I turn the corner as the tight feeling of anxiousness grows. Something's not right. I just hope thats it's not what I think it is. I don't think I could handle that. I swing open my front door just after hastily opening it. I close it shut quietly and bolt up the stairs. I stop before I open it.

What if I'm just over reacting? What if when I walk in Phil is sitting there on my bed laughing at me, mocking me for being do weak? I can't deal with it. Suddenly I hear a crash and the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor. I throw open the door.

I scan my room, not missing a beat I rush over to the bathroom and stop in my tracks.

Phil.

“NO!” I scream and run over to him. Blood lays like a blanket over my bathroom tiles but I couldn't care less. The only thing that really matters to me right now is the seemingly lifeless boy in my arms. I tilt his head up and rest it on my lap and gasp loudly. There is a very deep, jagged cuts engraved in his skin. I then look to his arms and notice that on the left one there are over a dozen cuts all the way up to his elbow.

I cry. I cry because I'm loosing him. Phil. I need him, I need him so much. I might of only just realised it but I still do. He has changed my life in such a short time and I can't bare to be without him. I just rock back and forth. My hands are saturated in blood and my clothes soaked to the skin. I place my right hand over Phil's neck and reach for the phone in my back pocket and call 999.

I just sit there and shake. Mumbling Phil's name and brushing my lips over his peaceful face. I can't believe this. I did this. It's my fault. I killed Phil Lester.