stained (phan) || book #1

eighteen

tw: mentions of self-harm & blood, kidnapping

D A N ' S    P O V

I ran back home and I didn't stop running until I was in my bedroom. Even when my parents asked where I had been and what was wrong, I ignored them, rushing upstairs and slamming the door shut.

I slid my back against the door and exhaled once I hit the carpet, pulling my knees to my chest. I cried and cried, hating myself for telling Phil I still loved him.

I fell in love with a fucking serial killer. A boy who's job is to murder people. Specifically, the one who killed my one and only sibling.

I rose on shaky legs, ripping my pullover off. I climbed to the mirror and sat down, staring at the scars littering my pale shoulders.

I looked down at my nails and saw how long and sharp they were, sighing. My eyes burned and my mind was screaming, but on the outside it was deathly silent. A suffocating type of quiet, one that pleaded for even just one touch of noise.

I gritted my teeth and raised my arms, my fingers bent and ready to scratch. But I froze when Phil's voice filled my brain.

I won't let anything happen to you, I promise.

Come on, I don't want you catching a cold.

I'm crazy about you.

My hands shook as I tried to block out his words.

I love you.

I have to leave.

And lastly, his most recent sentences.

Everything I said has been the truth. I'm still in love with you.

I let out a frustrated scream as I dropped my arms onto my shoulders, but only to hug myself. I sobbed some more until I stood, grabbing Phil's black sweatshirt and putting it on. I snatched some earphones and put them in my phone, trying to block out my thoughts.

I found myself walking out of my room and down the hall, towards the bedroom I swore to myself I'd never enter.

Four more steps.

Three steps.

Two.

One.

My hand touched the doorknob and turned it, and I was greeted with a temperature change once my body was inside. I left the door cracked open and stared.

Posters, medals, trophies, the same bed sheets, his drawings still on his desk along with the closet door to the right of it. I took slow steps, feeling as if I walked too fast the floor would break underneath me.

I reached out and ran my fingers along his bed, feeling the soft fabric.

An 'M' hung on the wall, representing 'Mason.'

His movies and books were organized on his shelves next to the desk and I looked over them, smiling at the ones I remembered reading/watching with him when I was younger.

I smiled sadly to myself, feeling a few tears slip down my cheeks. I wiped at them, letting out a shaky breath.

My eyes darted over the band posters, admiring his music taste. I sat down on his bed, my voice raspy once I began speaking quietly.

"I know you probably can't hear me, but I'm sorry. I remember that night all too well. It was my fault, wasn't it? I was the reason you went out that day. . ."

"Dan, stop crying please. Mom and dad are gonna be so pissed if I get back and you're upset."

"But I failed my math test. I'm such an idiot, this is only the start of the year and I'm already failing two of my classes. I'm not gonna pass high school, and I'm not gonna get into college- I'm gonna end up being a starving homeless man with no husband or pets. If our parents see my grades, they'll throw me out!"

Mason ran his hand over his face stressfully before placing his hands on my shoulders. "Dan, you aren't gonna be thrown out. I had shitty grades in highschool, yet I passed and I'm in my third year of college. Not to mention I didn't get kicked out of the house. They'll still love you, regardless of your grades. Mom and dad are accepting of anything, remember? Don't forget the time you came out and they baked you a 3-inch high chocolate cake."

I nodded and he reached out to wipe my tears. I leaned forward and threw my arms around him, sniffling into his black sweater. "Thanks, Mason."

"No problem, little brother. Hey, if I go pick up some pizza would you be happy? I'll get your favorite topping."

A toothy grin fell upon my face and I nodded frantically. "Yes please! And can we watch a movie too?"

"Of course," he smiled warmly. He ruffled my hair before turning and grabbing his car keys, waving. "I'll be back, alright?"

"Promise?" I muttered, fumbling with my fingers. He gave me a lopsided smile.

"Promise."

And then he was gone, breaking his promise as well as well my happiness.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Mason. Normally when I come into your room it was late at night when I had nightmares and we'd watch movies until I felt better. S-so thanks for being there for me, even when I wasn't there for you too."

I shook my head. This is crazy. I'm talking to an empty room. I should just call the cops and stop pitying myself.

I fished my phone from my pocket, dialing the numbers for an emergency. But I couldn't bring myself to hit the third one. My lips formed in a tight line. Maybe there was a better reason for this. Maybe Phil was better than that.

I got up and began to walk out the door, turning my head and taking one last look at the room. "You promised," I whispered, and then I trudged out with the door shutting behind me.

I have to tell someone.

I looked at my phone again, going to hit call until something in my room caught my eye.

Sitting there, lifeless and untouched, was the teddy bear Phil had bought me. In the same spot, but something else was now different.

The stomach had been slit, the stuffing falling out of the animal. I backed up, suddenly scared, confused as to when that happened.

This was an even bigger reason to call for help. I finished dialing the emergency line and hit call, raising the phone to my ear and listening to the ringing. I began backing up, going to find somewhere to hide in the meantime.

I jumped as my back hit something, and stiffened once I realized it was someone behind me. I stepped away and was about to turn, but before I could, a fabric was held over my mouth and nose. I dropped my phone in shock, hearing the operator try and speak to me through the receiver.

"No!" I tried to scream out, but it was muffled as I flailed my arms and kicked my legs. I tried my best to get the person off me, but suddenly it was turning black and getting hard to breathe.

My eyelids were heavy and my body became weak, and I struggled to move. I no longer had the energy to scream or fight back.

I fell to the ground.