Florescence

Chapter 4

Philza awoke suddenly, gasping for air. He sat up quickly massaging his chest and breathing heavily. It was the middle of the night. This was no time for him to be awake. Phil covered his face with his hands, sighing deeply. There was no way that he would be able to sleep now. Standing up, he decided to make a cup of tea to calm down.

The hot water was boiling and Phil rummaged in the cupboards to find a teabag. Retrieving one from the depths of the cabinet he pulled it out, placed it in a mug, and poured boiling water into it. Steam rose from the mug and Phil blew it away. His breathing had started to calm but the warm tea would help even more. Just as Phil was about to take a sip he heard something.

They are coming. Kill them before they can.

Phil shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

Kill them.

"Shut up!" Phil had spoken aloud to himself.

Was this what he had been driven to? Yelling at himself? At his own head?

They are coming.

"I said shut up you piece of shit!" Phil said, louder this time. He leaned against the counter, as though for support, and clutched the mug, tightly.

You know they're in danger.

Phil dropped the mug which caused it to split in two on the floor and boiling hot liquid to seep across the tiles.

Put yourself out of your misery and worry.

He slid down to the floor, pulling at his hair in anguish.

Worrying is for the weak.

A tear rolled down Phil's cheek and sunk into the fabric of his tunic.

For cowards.

"Phil?"

Philza jumped and looked up. His hands dropped to his side and his wings beat softly. Wilbur was standing in front of him, looking terrified. He was frozen where he stood, his eyebrows creased in worry and fear.

"Wil, what are you..." Phil was surprised to find himself on the floor, the mug broken on the next to him and hot tea spilled everywhere. "Go back to bed."

"Phil, I—"

"Wilbur, I said go back to bed," Phil said, more sternly, and then his voice softened. "Please."

For a few seconds, Wilbur didn't move. He just stared at his father, slumped on the floor like a child that had been crying for getting punished. He hesitated but decided it was better to obey Phil's wishes. Wilbur's face hardened slightly and he crept back up the stairs, carefully.

Phil did not know how long he had been on the floor. He did not know what time it was or what was happening. He barely knew who he was. But he knew that the voices were too loud. And he was giving in, desperate for relief from this pain. This constant pain he felt.

Philza breathed heavily, digging his nails into his palms against his pounding head. He squeezed his hands so tightly and blossoms of red blood slid down his arms where his nails had cut them. They shook violently and Phil only tightened his grip.

Then his hands were suddenly pulled away from his ears. Techno was kneeling in front of Phil and staring at his palms, his pink hair falling over his eyes. He made no comment but his face revealed worry and fear. He sighed, his breath shaking. Techno made to stand up but Phil grabbed his wrist. Techno glanced back at him.

"Techno," Phil said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need you to take Wilbur and Tommy and—"

"Phil, let go of my arm." Techno ignored his father. "I need to bandage your hands." He tried to stand up again but Phil pulled him back down.