guilt • phan

Chapter 3

Dan's POV

I was standing in a white room.
Facing the corner.

I blinked my tired eyes quickly, feeling confused. Where the actual frick am I?

I looked down at my feet, and my eyes spot only black. Okay, good, I'm still in my own clothes. Then, my body started to move on it's own. There is nothing i could do about it, it just started to slowly turn around by itself.

There was a chair in the middle of the room.

A figure was tied to it, looking at me in utter terror.

It was Phil.

On the inside, worry took over. Why was he here? Who did this? But on the outside, another emotion started to show through. I felt an evil smirk forming on my face, but I still couldn't take control of my movements. My insides were desperately trying to fight the feeling of worry that was burning inside my heart. The next thing I know, my legs started moving and I was walking towards the boy on the chair. My hand searched the back pocket of my jet black skinny jeans, and pulled out a bloc-note of yellow post-it's and a black sharpie. The feeling of worry was now slowly turning into confusion, because I didn't even know what was happening right now. I couldn't control my own movements and Phil was tied to a chair, what the fuck? And what was I even going to do with the sticky notes?

I looked over at Phil, and noticed he was crying. My insides were crying as well but on the outside, I looked like evil itself. Why was I doing this to him?

My hands fumbled with the cap of the marker and it popped off. The left one started to write down letters, meaningless to me. My eyes were locked with his blue ones, glistening with tears. It was only now that I payed attention to the striking blue color of his iris. It was mixed with flecks of yellow and green and it calmed my brain (which was now overflowing with thoughts) ever-so-slightly. My slender fingers pulled of the note I was just writing on and I lifted my arm to his chest.

'Worthless'

It felt like a bomb had just hit me. My heart was aching with guilt and I felt like crying. I wanted to hug him, say I was sorry, but there was this force holding me back. I just couldn't stop and it was destroying me. This was when I realized that I was still writing down words and placing the notes all over his body. He had dropped his head and little wet dots were adorning his black jeans. A quiet sob escaped from his mouth and his shoulders were shaking. Multiple sticky notes were stuck all over his body and it was my fault.

'Ugly'
'Fat'
'Gay'
'Useless'
'No one likes you'
'Kill yourself'
'Crybaby'

This was all my fault.

But the worst was yet to come.

My mouth opened and words started flowing from my mouth. I was using all the strength in my body, trying to hold myself from speaking, but no matter how hard I was trying, I couldn't stop.

"You know that no one cares about you, don't you? Because you are a dirty faggot and you are fat, ugly and worthless."

A dark chuckle escaped from my mouth, but on the inside I was crying.

"No one likes you, Phil. And you know why? Because you shouldn't even be alive."

I regretted everything. So much. But I just wasn't going to stop, and eventually, I gave up the fight. I felt numb and dead on the inside.

My fist flew at his crying face, and I kicked his shin. A last dark chuckle left my mouth, and then everything faded to black.

I woke up crying.