Ninety Nine Days - Phan (Boyxboy)

Chapter 11

Dan's POV

Everything was dark and my head pounded continuously. Was I dead? What happened to me? I must have been dead. Is this what it's like to be dead?

No sound around; only silence to greet me? Darkness too; nothing to be seen for miles. I couldn't tell if it was a never ending, pitch black space, or just nothing. There were faint whispers that were just out of reach; murmurs that warped into one. Why was I here? It was scary, yet peaceful. The darkness lulling my mind to peace, as if I was sleeping. Am I breathing?

I hate the dark; if only Phil was here to look after me, and mumble sweet nothings in my ear to calm me; tell me everything was okay. He was my light.

Phil! Where's Phil? Phil! Just the thought of Phil panicked me enough to fight against the suddenly tight, compressing abyss that I was in.

The terrifying darkness grew, threatening to twist and choke anything that remained. There was nothing I could do, but I needed to find a way to get back.

Phil, the voice in my head murmured. Needs you. But you're stuck here. Unless you can calm yourself down. Think, stupid boy. Think.

I gasped and my eyes shot open as I broke through the silence with an almost deafening scream and I burst through the black, and something in my body gave me strength to wake up. I panted and stared around the room, tears in my eyes, exhaustion evident in my breath.

I gazed around the room in both shock and horror to find the dark room was empty. The horror of waking up to find myself in my own hospital bed, alone, was almost too much to handle.

What happened? Why was I laying in a hospital bed?

I looked down to see my small body wrapped in (and almost bound with) tight, paper-like bedsheets. A large, cold needle in my hand, attached to a drip standing at the side of the bed. The liquid was a pale, sickly colour, littered with air bubbles, ruining it's purity.

I tried to catch my breath from my abrupt awakening, but all I could think of was Phil, which made me even more emotional and stressed.
"Ph-Phil", I mumbled, my head shooting around aimlessly in the dimly lit room, trying to find my Lion.

I choked on a sob and wrapped my arms around my waist, head down, tears cascading down my reddened cheeks. "Phil."

Before I had the chance to press the red button at the side of my bed to alert the nurses I needed their assistance, a tall, lanky man and a shorter, blonde haired woman wearing matching smart blue uniforms rushed into the room, startling me.

I squeaked and pulled the sheets up to my chin in an attempt to hide; continuing to wail, wanting nothing other than Phil to be near me.

The nurse, younger in appearance, took on a look of sympathy and approached me slowly, the same way that a young child or an injured animal would be approached.
"Mr Howell, are you experiencing any pain?" The nurse asked calmly.

Pain? All of this was a pain; just one huge, long, aching pain. A nightmare from which I would never awaken.

"N-no," I shook my head, crying quietly into my bedsheets.
"Are you okay?" She asked, but received no answer, as my eyes followed the doctor as he fiddled with the drip I was connected to. I carried on sobbing quietly as I watched him nervously, letting out anxious whimpers while he examined me.

Once he was fully satisfied I was physically unharmed, he backed away slowly, his kind but stern eyes meeting my scared, watery ones, and stepped outside the room with the nurse.

I watched them talking, the nurse looking back at me through the window every so often while they conferred. Her face was laced with worry and sympathy, whilst the man had remained stoic in demeanour.

What are they talking about?
My sobbing had subsided slightly, leaving me curled up in the paper-like cocoon whilst being talked about. It was unnerving to say the least. I looked at my hands, bound in gauze and slowly returning to their normal peachy colour.

Click!
The nurse held the door open for her companion, her left arm clutching a stack of papers; her right keeping the door out of the way for the older male.

The room fell quiet as he approached me; trapping me in the bed. I sat still, observing every move that he made. Once again, he fiddled with the drip that I was attached to, turning several dials before moving away, fully satisfied.

My curious eyes trailed lazily after his movements, following his darting form around the room, as my breathing got faster and my chest rose and fell quickly. He finally stopped at the foot of the bed that I occupied, and a sudden sense of dread and fear filled me from head to toe.

"Mr..." His voice drifted off as his eyes wandered to my details in the clipboard he was holding. "Howell."
I watched him carefully, studying his tired face. I didn't reply; I just waited for him to continue.

"I am aware that you are, obviously, emotionally distressed, and are probably in need of some assistance, but we think it would be best if you went home. We don't know why you're here, but..."

I couldn't hear anything but incoherent mumbles after that. My breathing started to get heavier and the room seemed to get much smaller. My head pounded as I panicked.

"But... But Phil!"
"Mr Howell-"
"Phil! I-I need to see him!"
"Mr Howell!"
"I have to see him! I need to know he's okay!"
"Mr Howell!" He repeated, his voice full of anger.

"No! Why are you keeping him from me?! I have to see him! He needs me! He must be terrified!" I yelled, tears forming streams down my face. "You can't hide him from me; you just can't!"

"Mr Howell," the nurse chipped in before the doctor could yell back, "we don't know who Phil is." She remained calm as she walked towards me, stopping at the side of my bed. "And you need to rest," she finished.
"We decided you should go home; you are fatigued," the doctor said.

"But... But you don't understand! I'm not the one who needed to be hospitalised in the first place! I came here to see Phil!" I sobbed.

It seemed that most of what I said hadn't made any sense as the pair looked at me in confusion and the nurse let out a quiet sigh, before taking the needle out of my hand.

"Maybe we should send him to the mental health ward. He's obviously in no fit state to go home," the doctor said under his breath; like I couldn't hear, as if I wasn't there. I looked down at my hands again, tears falling onto the pink colour of my damaged flesh, making me shudder.

The mental health ward? Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. They were doctors, after all. They knew what was best for me. I sniffed back more tears, listening to them muttering to each other.

You're just going to let them take you away; drag you kicking and screaming to a mental health ward? Are you really that stupid? You don't need looking after; you need to calm down before you drive yourself insane! Phil needs you!

"I..." I said, startling the doctor and the nurse and stopping their conversation. "Thank you... A-am I discharged?" I tried to act as calm as I could. Normal. Just act normal. I was a shaken mess, on the verge of tears again, and hoping, just hoping, they wouldn't see through my mask.

They shared a quick look before agreeing and nodding. I hopped out of bed, acting completely fine, as if nothing had happened, and headed out of the hospital.

As soon as I got through the doors and stepped out into the cold night, I let out huge, bottled up sobs. I wandered home, arms wrapped around myself, crying dramatically, just looking like the drunken crowds around me.