I awoke and laid groggily in bed, what day was it? Monday? Thursday? Was it the weekend? I peeled open my eyes; rays of sun piercing though them as I flinched and shut them again, quickly. Rolling out of bed, hiding from the sun, I crept downstairs jumping from one end of the corridor to the other to avoid creaky planks of wood, not to disturb Phil. When I got into the kitchen he was already awake and pouring both him and myself a mug of coffee.
"Good morning.", he greeted. I replied politely, though with not so much enthusiasm. Yawning, I grabbed an unopened box of cereal and began to break the sealing. After pouring the cereal, bits flying everywhere, I begin opening the fridge, grasping a carton of milk and screwing off the lid.
This is where it all went wrong
My dry cereal stayed untouched on the counter top whilst the milk flew out of my hand and managed to land all down myself.
" WHAT HAPPENED?" Phil yelled, turning around hesitantly.
"I just slipped, what a great morning" I replied sarcastically from the floor. Phil began to edge closer to me, slowly and carefully. Frustrated, i began to attempt to pick myself up, but was taken aback by a sudden jolt. Phil had pushed me back onto the floor into the puddle of milk still laying there. My eyes turned to Phil. I opened my mouth to begin speaking, but was cut off after Phil's body began weighing me down. His hands were gripped on my arms to hold them in place and legs against each side of my hips.
"Phil what are y-" this time I was cut off by his lips pressing against mine.
Not sure how to feel, I stayed still. Phil pulled back and stared at me before releasing one of my hands from his grasp, though before I knew it he slapped me across the face with force guaranteed to leave a mark. I stayed speechless while Phil used his knee to keep my arm in position, whilst he dipped his hand into the, now lukewarm, liquid on the floor. He smeared his hand all over my face and got back into position before licking it off my skin. His hot tongue wrapped into every crease around my face, leaving it warm and wet. His breath was sticky and increased in speed as he unbuttoned my shirt.
After it was removed he soaked it in the milk and squeezed the liquid all over myself before sliding his tongue around my chest.
"PHIL WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU" I screamed. Phil glanced at me and pressed his lips into mine once again, this time with his mouth dripping with it, leaving the aftertaste of sour milk, making me feel nauseated.
"Be quiet my baby" he whispered softly, almost making me believe we both still held our sanity. He rolled me over so I lay on my front and this time I felt something not so gentle. Phil had grabbed a knife from the counter top, piercing my skin from the top, to the bottom of my back. I screamed the most ear piercing scream I've never made nor heard before. Phil quickly muffled it with my shirt and his spare hand and stuffed it over my mouth, milk escaping from the sides. The pain was excruciating as I felt my skin be torn in two. The blade sliced slowly, each millimeter being felt as if a thousand needles slowly digging into my skin. I heard a thump and to my relief the knife was placed back.
"That wasn't so hard now was it Dan?" He asked rhetorically, running his fingers over the slice from the bottom of my back to the top. He gathered milk onto his hand once again and this time stuck his index finger into the cut, also letting the milk to run through it.
I cried out in agony, feeling a salty drop of water slide down my cheek, before soaking into the shirt still held in my mouth. Phil glided his finger slowly down the cut, his nail scraping up blood, skin and milk. I could feel the cut opening deeper and deeper. I opened my tightly shut eyelids and looked down and saw the puddle of milk had dyed into a red colour; the thought of laying in my own blood sickening me. He turned my head slowly towards him.
"Aw baby don't cry" he muttered calmly, removing the shirt, placing a kiss on my cheek and once more licking off another drop of milk. I twisted my head vigorously left and right, thrashing about my arms.
"WHATS GOTTEN INTO YOU, PHIL." I yell out with as much force as my blood-lacking body can manage.
"You wanna play that way do ya now?" He hissed, sliding his hand down not stopping until he reached my crotch. Pulling my trousers down he reached and began slowly moving his hand back and forth covering it in sour-smelling, milky blood. I lay there, arms still restrained by his unoccupied hand and one of his knees. I gasped ready for pleading to stop but all that escaped my lips was a hushed moan as Phil increased pace. Pulling my pajama bottoms further he placed his mouth onto the end of my penis and wrapped his tongue around it, his hand still grasped softly. My breath quickened. Suddenly, everything stopped. The pain was excruciating as the milk and blood darkened into a stronger red. I clasped my eyelids shut, tears streaming down my face as he held my bloody dick up to me as I slowly and cautiously began peeling one of my eyes open before tightening them again.
I didn't bare look down. I couldn't. Rocking back and forth gently, I heard Phil move over the soft splashes of the mess I lay in, and I was finally released from my restrains, however my weakened, frozen body refused to move and I gave up hope as I lay still as a corpse staring up at the ceiling. My head pounded violently as my vision blurred little by little.
"Wasn't that fun my little Dan" Phil whistled playfully from behind me. I couldn't see past Phil's giraffe figure but my entire body shook in fear as I heard an aggressive noise coming from a house warming gift we received when moving into the apartment. My muscles tensed as I saw glimpses of his actions. He moved closer so I could see him and I tilted my head. He poured it into an ice lolly mould and placed the blender in the sink, filling it with warm water to soak.
"I'm saving this for later" he grinned and placed it into the freezer, shifting my body out the way a little. I was speechless. Everything ached. My roommate and best friend? Both gone. And what do I do now?
"You know what you do to me Dan" he spoke, rubbing his crotch. It went silent.
"TELL ME YOU KNOW" he screeched, anger and slight sadness glistened in his eyes.
"I k-know wh-what I do t-to you, Ph-Phil" my shaky breath spat out. Sadness gone, Phil smiled a twisted smile before clutching the dry bowl of cereal left on the counter ealier.
"Its a shame we ran out of milk, Dan" he smiled. No. No. No no no no NO. This can't be happening.
Small gasps escaped Phil's lips as the bowl began filling up. I swerved myself round and began pushing away with my feet until the blood trail following me caught my eye.
Blackness.
My eyes drowsily forced themselves open. Where was I? I was sat upright, clothed back in my stained crimson pajamas. I adjusted my vision carefully, focusing on the bowl in front of me.
"Its dinner time" he sang "Eat up, hun, you must be hungry" he mumbled, as he bit into his meal. I looked over; jaw dropping as the ice lolly began melting onto Phil's lips.
"I said eat up." Phil growled harshly, frozen mixture dripping from his lips. I hesitantly wrapped my fingers around the spoon, jumping from the cold contact. I stared at Phil. Phil stared back. He stared with blood boiling frustration. The gleam in his eye told me he was about to snap. Slightly quicker, I dipped my quivering hand towards the bowl, until the spoon had the thick liquid and cereal concoction balanced. I could feel Phil's eyes burning into my skin. I brought the spoon up to my mouth and tasted the cold, sticky, liquid slide down my throat. Nausea filled me and I could feel my skin turning green. Phil's smile became heartwarming and with each mouthful my sickened stomach twisted in knots. Phil concentrated on both myself, and his meal he seemed to be greatly enjoying. Each lick made my body feel more and more numb.
After what felt like hours, my stomach and, now tasteless, mouth had the job of keeping it down, trying not to anger Phil.
"Would you care to wash the dishes sweetie?" He hummed politely. I nodded and began to stabilise my feet, however my body disagreed and my balance was lost as I fell to the floor.
There I was, still slowly bleeding, hair crusted in crimson, laying in a mixture of milk, blood and vomit. Phil admiring the work he had created as I lay lifeless on the floor of what used to be 'our' kitchen.
