Saviour

Chapter 4: Home?

A/N Some cute, appropriate fanart for your faces :)

"All done," Zoe said cheerfully, gently patting my shoulder. I was surprised by the disappointment which flashed through me at that statement, I'd been enjoying my conversation with Phil, but I shrugged it off.

"Thank you," I said before moving to leave. However, she caught my arm.

"Hang on," she said, stopping me. "I know we only just met but you've got a concussion and I'd really prefer if I could watch you to make sure you're okay. People can and do die from underestimated head injuries." My first though was that Zoe will make a great nurse. Then it was confusion.

"Um, we were all actually going to be staying here for the weekend." Phil contributed, his body reading awkward preparation for rejection. "If it's okay, did you want to join us?"

"Um..." my brain drew a blank at a really inconvenient time. My first thought was that they were making fun of me, however, I quickly pushed that thought aside as they'd done nothing but help me. My second thought was one that I really didn't want to believe and that's that they were simply pitying me. I swallowed the lump of accompanying bitterness and responded without thinking. "Sure,"

The anxiety I felt at my decision was overshadowed by Phil's beaming smile.

"I'll drive you to your house to get your stuff," he said standing and offering me his hand. I nodded and followed him.

The drive there was mostly silent as Phil tried to make conversation and I tried to respond, however, I was too anxious about going home. But when we pulled up I saw there was no car.

Of course.

I thought as I pushed open the front door, Phil having opted to wait in the car.

Mum is on a business trip so Dad is with his girlfriend.

My parents hate each other, I'm honestly not even sure why they're still together. It's definitely not for me, they despise me.

I run upstairs and throw some clothes into my backpack. I stuff my phone and headphones into the front before grabbing a jumper and slipping it on. I tug nervously at the sleeves. Thankfully no one noticed my scars. They're old, one month and eight days to be exact, but still visible and I don't want them to know. I don't want anyone to know but especially not potential friends(?). everyone already thinks I'm a freak.

I make it to the top of the stairs before running back to my room and grabbing Poof from under my pillow. He's an old stuffed bear my grandmother gave me when I was little. He's faded and worn and a little beat up from the time my dad tried to throw him away, which is why I hide him. He's what I use when I have panic attacks. I gently hide him at the very bottom of my bag; I don't need these guys thinking I'm even gayer.

I race back downstairs and out to Phil. He smiles as I hop in and the ride back is much chattier. I think he can tell that I'm more relaxed but I hope to god he doesn't figure out why.

When we get back the lounge room has been transformed into a huge nest of mattresses and blankets, with two spare ones on the end for me and Phil.

"What are we doing?" Phil asked, climbing onto a mattress. I climb onto the one next to him, the one on the end.

"Scary movies!" Tyler replies, way too excited. I freeze.

I hate scary movies.

It's fine. It'll be fine.

It wasn't fine.

I made it about half way through before I could feel a panic attack coming on. I scramble to my feet muttering a barely there 'I'll be back' before snatching up my bag and bolting. I manage to make it to the bathroom and shut the door before I collapse with my back pressed against it