*ON HOLD* Before It Gets Better The Darkness Gets Bigger boyxboy

Chapter 16 - Cutting Is My Drug; My Razor The Dealer

Dan (TW)
*****

Suddenly, I feel that all too familiar intense itching under the skin of my wrist. I begin to scratch the old cuts along my arm discreetly under the blanket, trying my best not to disturb Phil.

I keep scratching away, but the cuts are too long healed to be opened again. I start to feel frustrated, and my mind gets cloudy again.

"Just going to the bathroom," I splutter, my voice breaking as I jump up and run out the door. "Don't bother pausing it!"

I slam the door shut a little too loudly. I breath an almost silent swear and start the long search for another hidden razor.

After what felt like forever, I finally find one hidden in the cap of a shampoo I never really use anymore. I sit down on the cold toilet seat and lean back against the ceramic cistern.

I play with the shiny metal object in my hands. It's funny how something so small can cause so much damage under the right circumstances. I find irony in how the blade was taken out of a pencil sharpener, something they sell to children.

I sigh as I pull up my sleeve, beads of sweat forming on my forehead and tears rolling down my face. I drag the sharp piece of metal once again down the length of my arm, away from any veins as to avoid another hospital visit.

As soon as I lift the razor from my broken skin, an almost instant wave of relief comes over me. My arm stings and gushes blood, but I don't really care, as long as the itch is gone.

I let the scarlet liquid flow down the sink, it's welcoming scent filling the small room. It hits my nostrils- almost resembling the unmistakable smell of rust or salt.

The feeling of near euphoria after making another cut is only something another self-harmer would know. Then, after that, the almost instant flood of regret.

I feel my eyes begin to swell with tears again. Steadying myself, I stand up to look at my pale face in the bathroom mirror. My eyes are puffy and red, and all of the colour has been drained from my cheeks.

I slump back down on the toilet seat.

"One more- come on Dan!" The voice in my head taunts.

No. Please God no. Anything but the voice.

"You scared, Dan?" It laughs.

"No, just shut up," I whisper. I am scared. 'The Voice' hasn't spoken to me since I first met Phil.

In a way, it was my best friend back then. In a way, it was my enemy. Coaxing me, persuading me, making me feel much worse than I was already feeling.

"I know you're scared," The voice says in a tormenting manner.

"No, no, NO!" I yell, much too loudly.

"DAN?" Phil yells. I hear his footsteps as he runs to the door. "LET ME IN!"

I say silent.

"DAN!" He calls once more, inserting his spare key into the keyhole. He keeps it in his pocket for emergencies.

"Don't-" I start as the door clicks open.

Phil looks around, slightly taken aback at my surroundings. He brushes away the blood-covered towels that are thrown around the tiled floor and kneels down beside me.

"Dan..." he whispers, looking deeply into my dull brown eyes.

I shake my head and brush a tear from my eye with my unharmed left hand.

"Why...?" Phil asks quietly, taking my razor and putting it in his trouser pocket.

He pulls up my right sleeve with gentle touches and looks in shock at the long scarlet cut he has revealed.

"Please don't get mad," I plead in a hushed voice, keeping my head down.

"Just tell me why you did it," He asks me, speaking as if I were a toddler who had just drawn on the walls.

"I- it... It's back," I murmur, struggling to form a proper sentence.

*****
Phil
*****

"It? What... What's it?" I stammer.

I place my hand on Dan's chin and tilting his head up so he looks me in the eye.

"Nothing..." he whispers, pulling down his sleeves again.

"The itch?" I ask.

I know about Dan's itch. I've done research on similar topics. It's created by the brain. There's no physical need for the itch- there's nothing on the skin- it's some kind of coping mechanism.

He shakes his head with a sigh, and begins to play with the frayed cuffs of his sleeves again.

"Dan... Please tell me," I beg him.

"The voice," he whispers.

"What voice?" I ask in sheer confusion.

"The voice has been with me since I was thirteen, but it stopped when I met you. It used to make me do bad things, like... cut. When I was being bullied it was my only friend," He informs me in a sad tone.

"That's not a friend, Dan," I reply. "No friend would ever make you do that to yourself."

"Louis did..." I hear Dan snarl in a barely audible whisper.

"We've talked about this- Louis is gone. He's back working in a McDonald's somewhere- he can't bully you anymore," I assure him, speaking calmly and clearly while rubbing his back.

He looks up at me with a weak smile on his face.

"Now," I start, getting up onto my feet again. "Let's get you cleaned up."

-

I bandage him up and call the hospital to let them know. With Dan's permission, I inform them about 'The Voice'- otherwise know as Louis (after his old bully).

They've scheduled Dan back in for three sessions a week, and me for one. Then, Dan and I also have some form of counselling to help me 'deal' with his mental illnesses- though I really don't think that it is necessary.

I order pizza for dinner, and we eat it in front of the television. I don't take my eyes off of Dan once the whole night- I couldn't risk it.

"Phil?" Dan says quietly after a while, placing his pizza box down on the coffee table.

"Yes?" I reply, doing the same.

"Thank you for caring," he whispers. "If you didn't care, you wouldn't have come in and you wouldn't have stopped Louis from taking over again."

"Dan," I smile, feeling my cheeks flushing crimson.

I lean into him and he closes the gap between our lips.