The Boy With The Whiskers; Phan

Oh, It's My Throat.

I tense.

I almost flip out completely, scared out of my mind.

I am scared.

I am terrified. I am beyond horrified.

I can't breathe. I'm holding the air in, and I'm hoping I'll pass out.

But no, this does not happen.

Something worse does.

Or something better.

No, something horrible happens.

Two pairs of lips glide against my neck and breathe on my shoulder.

I don't know what to think, or what to do, or how.

I can't imagine what's this is like, but it's happening.

I breathe heavily, and my heart beats fast.

My heart beats so fast, my whole being seems to be moving along with it.

I am shaking, I am trembling.

I'm not okay, I am not fine because when I turn over,

There is no one.

No body, not a thing.

No one to be seen for yards, for miles, for what ever comes after miles.

There seems to be something caught in my throat- oh, it's my throat.

I tremble violently.

So violently, I can't see beyond my nose, because everything is a blur.

You only feel like an alcoholic when you're drinking, and you only feel like you're about to pass out when you've had that last gulp.

The shock lingered for a moment...then vanished.

Phil Lester, faced most of the scary things and was afraid of none of them..or so it seemed.

But I was mortified.

I am scared.

The fear disappeared a lot, but it came right back up again.

I hear a sound behind me.

I hesitate, and I want to keep hesitating but I'm also too scared to keep facing forward.

I turn..

slow..

slower..

I felt my heartbeat in my fingertips.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud, Thud.

I open my eyes.

thud, thud,

thu-

Dan Howell stands two feet in front of me.

//The end//