I Don't Need to Know Your Face

-One Step-

P hasn't texted Dan in two days, and that was driving Dan nuts. He wondered, did he say something wrong?

Everything had been so perfect before. What had happened?

It was Friday after school, and Dan was pacing his bedroom waiting for a text, but he wasn't getting one.

He had texted yesterday, "Hey, P," but he never got an answer.

Now he was freaking out. No texts. No calls. No nothing.

And Dan was crying now, because P was all Dan had. Had he decided he didn't want to be his friend anymore? Not even a goodbye?

And now he couldn't breathe. What if he really had left? What if he was never going to come back? What if something bad had happened to him? What if he never loved him? What if he'd done something like hurt himself?

Dan curled his knees to his chest as tears fell down his cheeks, and he knew, panic attack.

Dan hadn't had one in weeks, which was knew. Strangely enough, he forgot the feeling for a while.

But now he was feeling his heart race, and isolation cloud his vision. It was too much.

There was no one who could save him. No one for him. P was all a joke to play with his emotions. Of course, P didn't exist. He was too perfect.

It was Friday again, and Phil was scared. He had done everything he needed. And he felt kind of bad for not texting his friend, but he just wasn't in the mood to talk to him. He had made him sort of angry, and he just didn't want to lash out on him.

But he missed him.

Because Phil really did love him, and it's only been a month.

He was going to text him finally, when his dad slammed open his door, eyes on fire.

Phil was shocked at the intrusion, so he didn't speak, but his Father stormed over to him angrily.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU CAN SIT AROUND ON YOUR ASS ON A WEEK LIKE THIS!" His father shouted.

He felt a slap on his face, and tears filled his eyes at the sting.

"YOU'RE A FUCKING DISGRACE!" His father said, knocking his phone to the floor and punching him the stomach, making him double over, and he just kept punching, over and over.

"SHE FUCKING DIED YESTERDAY AND YOU DIDN'T SO SHIT! YOU'RE ALWAYS ON YOUR STUPID PHONE! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT SHE'S DEAD!"

Phil kept shouting he was sorry as his father beat him, kicking him in the chest and knocking the wind out of him.

"YOU'RE SO FUCKING STUPID!" His dad said, kicking him in the face and leaving a black eye.

He leaned down and punched him again, causing bruises to form all over his hurting body, "HOW DID I GET STUCK WITH A SON LIKE YOU?"

Phil was crying, but he could barely feel it as he felt blood trickle down his nose, and he was still being kicked all over, his arm feeling useless as his father stepped on it, and everything was aching.

"YOU'RE SO FUCKING WEAK, THIS IS WHY YOUR MOTHER COULDN'T FUCKING DEAL WITH YOU!"

I know, I know.

And Phil took the words, and he took the hits. And it all hurt so bad, he couldn't tell what was worse.

But through the whole experience, he thought of his friend, and how he had said that believing everything his father said was a lot worse than hearing it.

And it had made him mad, because Phil's pain wasn't minor, it was something he suffered through.

But D had been right.

Believing it made it all the more painful as his father was shouting these things.

He was worthless.
He was stupid.
He was the reason his mum died.
No one loves him.
He's a disgrace.

And then his Father stopped, looking at the crushed boy for a second and then scowling at his curled up form before leaving, slamming the door again.

His footsteps went all the way down the stairs, and another slam followed as he left the house.

Everything was a blur in Phil's eyes, and he could barely move. His brain was attacking him as his father did, and his body was too injured for him to do anything about it.

He winced as he looked up finally from having his eyes squeezed shut, and found his phone next to him.

Surprisingly, it wasn't shattered, thank God. It's a good thing his grandma had bought him the phone, and he worked for a while to get the case.

He grabbed for it, with his good arm, and it hurt like hell to even move.

But, he successfully found a way to call somebody, holding the phone up to his ear, trying not to sob.

Dan heard his phone ring, tears fresh in his eyes as he was deep in thoughts that were hurting him, pulling his sanity apart.

When he saw who it was, his stomach dropped. P only called him when things were very bad. And that was once.

Dan sniffled and answered it, trying to compose his voice, "H-Hello?"

There was silence, and then there were heart breaking sobs, like whoever who it was coming from was absolutely broken beyond repair.

"H-Help," the person said, crying too much to make real words, "P-please help."

-

AN: Me too