How to Help Howell?

Part 17

Dan's POV

After I left the restaurant, I drove straight to the hardware store to pick up a couple box cutters before I went back to the flat.

I had been so good for the past few days! The voices had stopped, I had smiled more, and I just generally felt more happy, thanks to Phil.

But now that he's shown me that I could mean less to him, what's the point? I don't really have any other friends, maybe Chris or PJ, but they haven't talked to me in months, they wouldn't care if I went. My parents hadn't even reached out to me in a long time either, they probably wouldn't have even noticed if I were gone. I could just slip out of existence without anyone knowing or caring.

Phil had said he cared, but after that night, I knew the truth.

Voices echoing in my head the entire ride home, I found it rather hard to focus. As soon as I pulled up, I parked and ran up to the apartment.

Running into the bathroom with the grey plastic bag full of my most recent purchase, I closed the door behind me. I sat down on the floor and listened to what I heard.

You're disgusting.

You're stupid.

I can't believe you thought Phil liked you.

Why do you think the voices won't go away? It's because they're right.

Kill yourself.

I wasn't aware of anything going on anymore. I was just...numb. I sat there on that bathroom floor just thinking and listening to what my thoughts had to say.

I subconsciously took the pack of blades out of the bag and zoned out while staring at them. 

Everything would be so much better if you just listened to your own mind, opened the pack, and do what needed to be done a long time ago.

The voices taunted. Without thinking, I slowly opened the packaging and removed one blade. I stared at it and realized what I was doing. Did I want to? Did I know if I wanted to?

I rubbed the flat side of it along my wrist. The cool metal felt so relaxing. Comforting, even. I felt happy to know that this small silver blade could do what seemingly everyone thought was best, including myself.