Alone Together

Phil burst away from the bullies and ran home, tears streaming down his face. He sprinted up to his room before his mother could corner him to ask him about his day and before his brother could see him crying and make fun of him.

Why must it always be him?

Those idiots at school constantly tormented him for... Well, just everything about him. How he was gay. How they thought his hair was stupid and emo, just because it was black. How he wore really colorful clothes. How he was a nerd and a dork and a geek. How his t-shirts were nerdy and dorky and geeky. How he was him.

For as long as he could remember Phil had gotten verbally abused and teased at school. But it had been fine. It's not like ten year olds could do much damage, after all. But now he was seventeen. And he was a wimp. He was unfit and scrawny. And his "friend" had told the entire school he was gay, even though he promised to keep it a secret.

The saddest thing was, Phil didn't really have anyone else to turn to, so that person was still technically his best friend.

But after that incident, which happened about a month ago, people had gotten violent. The verbal abuse morphed into physical. They. Wouldn't. Leave. Him. Alone.

Phil picked up his pillow and screamed into it, frustrated. He was a good person. He always tried to be nice and friendly and helpful and approachable. Everyone else saw that as weakness.

The scream lasted a strong six seconds before turning back into sobs.

Phil was so alone.

He had just gotten a beating simply for being him.

I'm worthless. Everybody hates me. I don't even deserve to live. I mean, if no one else thinks I do, then doesn't that mean I don't?

Phil's sobbing ceased immediately. That was not his own thought. It couldn't have been. Sure, it fit, but Phil didn't think he was worthless. He wanted to live. The intrusion felt like a thought, but he knew he hadn't thought it, if that makes any sense. But it probably doesn't, seeing as the incident itself didn't seem to.

I just want to die. No one likes me. I feel like shit all the time. They would probably be happy I was gone. I hate them. I don't deserve this. But maybe I do.

This monologue played in Phil's head as he just sat there with wide eyes. These were most definitely not his thoughts. His mind wasn't saying these things, or at least he wasn't.

H-hello? Phil tried to respond. He felt a bit silly, because he was just thinking, after all. But that was the beauty. He didn't have to be embarrassed because it was just in his head. And the invasion of his personal space freaked him out.

W-what? Is someone there?

Phil's brain practically shut down. Oh god, the bullies must've hit his head without him realizing it. Oh god, he probably had a concussion. Phil was snapped back to...well, whatever he was snapped out of before when his brain froze when he heard the voice continue. Because yes, this was definitely a voice in his head.

Oh course there isn't anyone there you idiot... It's your brain...

Phil hastily replied, no wait! I'm here!

He was met with silence.

Silence.

He could hear his own breathing.

Minutes passed.

Hello? Phil tried again.

Phil groaned at how stupid he was being.