How to Help Howell?

Part 3

I arrived home all out of breath and gasping for air. I was so happy to see Phil sitting on the couch in the lounge watching the Great British Bake Off with a bowl of chips in his lap. I collapsed onto the sofa next to him.

"What happened to PJ and Chris?" I asked.

"Not home, I guess." Phil answered. I could hear the boredom in his voice.

"Phil, I'm sorry for leaving, I've left you all alone and bored!" I immediately felt really guilty for just leaving the flat without even thinking about Phil.

"Well, I'm not arguing." He shot back. I felt hurt by the tone in his voice.

You deserve every retort and hurtful word you disgusting, useless, terrible excuse for a human.

You're right.

I got up and went into my bedroom. I just sat on the bed, thinking. Why did I think this was a good idea?

You idiot, you've managed to lose he one person you actually cared about. You're a waste of space, you are. A very large waste of space, might I add.

The voice kept taunting him, scolding him for being so stupid, fat, and useless. Tears fell down his face and he started to sniffle and sob quietly.

The door opened and Phil stood there, looking at him with concern in his eyes.  I wiped the tears off my face and looked down at my hands. Phil came over and wrapped his arms around me. I returned the gesture and put my head on his shoulder and started crying again.

Oh, boo hoo, grow up, idiot.

I just sobbed harder into Phil's chest. After a while I had stopped crying and I looked up at Phil.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you, Dan, it wasn't your fault," he said with real sincerity.

"I'm sorry for leaving you all alone with nothing to do and no one to hang out with," I returned. I laid on my back on the bed.

"Thank you, Phil. You always know how to make me feel better. I don't deserve a friend like you." I hesitated on the word friend. How I longed to call him so much more. But Phil didn't feel that way. How could anyone love a monster like me?

"Oh, Dan, don't say that, you deserve so much," Phil responded, not really sure what to say.

"Here, it's almost 4:00, do you want to have something to eat?" Phil asked.

"I'm not really hungry." I lied. I didn't deserve food. Or Phil.

Or life.

The voice added.

"You go make yourself something to eat, Phil, I'll be out in a bit," I assured him. Phil sighed and walked glumly out of the room.

Look how upset you make him! What do you have to offer the world? All you do is sit there and feel sorry for yourself, you attention pig. You big, fat, stupid, worthless pig.

I went over to the mirror again and lifted up the bottom of my shirt. I took a piece of fat from my stomach and pinched it as hard as I could.

You deserve this. Every second of it.

I pinched more fat from my stomach and did the same. I did this for about 10 minutes until my stomach was filled with dozens of bright red spots. Satisfied with the soreness of my stomach, I returned my shirt to its place and headed out into the flat to meet Phil. He stood in the kitchen washing his plate from his dinner.

"Wanna watch a movie?" I asked.

"Of course!" Phil got that adorable gleam in his eye and smile on his cute face.

We sat on the couch in the lounge and decided on "Happy New Year, Charlie Brown!" Even though New Year's Day had been a couple months ago. I ended up falling asleep with my head on Phil's shoulder that night.