K I D N A P P E D - P H A N A U

Chapter Twenty-One

(Trigger Warning: Suicide)

Dan had already come up with a plan for how he would do it. James had guns in the house, but the handguns didn't have locks on them. The only thing in his way was a glass door to his gun cabinet, and he could easily smash that. He would finally get over his fear of guns.

So far, everything was going according to plan. Phil was leaving for work, though he seemed unsure about leaving. Dan just wanted to kiss him one last time.

"Dan, are you sure? I can stay home if you need me to," Phil said for the hundredth time.

Dan chuckled lightly. "Yes, I'm sure," he said. He pulled Phil into a hug. "I love you," he said.

He pulled out of the hug to connect his lips to Phil's. Phil didn't pull away, even though he felt this was suspicious. He just was glad to kiss Dan again before he left for work. He was very reluctant to leave him.

After a while, Dan pulled away. Phil smiled at him. "I love you. I'll be home soon," he said. He gave him one last hug and left the house.

Dan was completely alone now.

He immediately started his plan. He went to the gun cabinet and punched the glass, resulting in it smashing. His fist started bleeding and he ignored it. He took out a handgun. It looked very similar to the one Connor had.

He was shaking as he held it. He walked upstairs and placed it on the desk in the office. It seemed to be taunting him. He started searching the office for a notebook and a pen so he could write his final goodbyes.

This was it.

He found a notebook and pen, and he nervously began writing his suicide note. It read,

Phil, I'm so sorry. I love you so much. But I can't continue like this. I'm a paranoid, depressed mess. Nothing is working anymore. That month with Derrick, Jack, and Connor messed me up. I can barely even function anymore. I panic constantly, I'm never happy, and  I have nightmares every night. I just can't take it anymore. I hate feeling like this, and it's time that I ended it. But I loved meeting you. I loved every moment I had with you. I missed you every time you were gone. And I'm going to miss you when I die. I'm so thankful that I was able to kiss you one last time. I love you more than you can ever imagine.

-Daniel James Howell

Dan was crying and shaking so hard that he could barely write his name. He was starting to doubt if this was the right thing to do.

Of course it is, you idiot!

We've been telling you this since the start.

The world would be better without the inconvenience of knowing that you exist.

Just get it over with.

The voices only got louder. Dan cried harder, looking at the gun. He took the note and the gun to the bathroom. He had heard that taking medicine will make it hurt less when you hurt yourself.

He frantically opened the medicine cabinet, seeing something called ibuprofen. He didn't bother reading the label. He grabbed it and managed to open the bottle.

He then swallowed the entire thing.

He started coughing and collapsed, pulling the gun to the floor with him. He stared at the gun and started shaking more. He was a mess.

He pressed the gun against his upper chest. He was shaking so hard that he couldn't even find the trigger. "I-I can't!" he said, dropping the gun and breaking down into tears.

Wow, you can't even kill yourself.

How pathetic. 

Dan shook his head. "I'm not p-pathetic," he mumbled.

Yes you are. And you know it. That's why you're trying to kill yourself.

D O  I T !

Dan nodded, picking up the gun again. "I-I'm sorry Phil," he whispered.

Phil doesn't care about you. That's why he's gone.

"You're right," he whispered, putting the gun against his chest.

Of course we are. Now get it over with, kitten.

Dan nodded. He was beginning to feel dizzy and nauseous from the pills. His eyelids felt heavy and he realized it was now or never.

He put his finger against the trigger and pulled.

The bullet tore through the muscles in his chest, ripping blood vessels and anything in its way.

He let out a loud cry of pain, tears immediately flowing down his face. This was the most pain he had ever experienced. It was worse than anything he could imagine. He let out loud sobs.

Oh god, make it stop! he thought.

A large amount of blood was seeping from the wound. His eyes widened as he saw it.

Dan had missed his heart.

You missed!

Well, at least you'll be in more pain now.

Dan tried to say something, but his lungs were filling with blood. He was choking from the inside-out. He let out a gurgling noise and started coughing, blood leaping out of his mouth.

His breathing was practically non-existent. He took in staggered, short breaths, but it sounded like he was choking. He let out small squeaks as he breathed out.

He wanted this pain to end. He looked at the gun and tried to reach for it, but he couldn't move.

Please make it stop! he cried internally. He still had tears running down his face, but he looked emotionless. He was basically dead.

You deserve this pain!

You're too stupid to kill yourself correctly. This is what you get.

I know... But it hurts!

Well, if you had done it right, it wouldn't hurt this bad.

Dan let out another gurgling noise as he cried. He coughed, and the blood landed on the bottom of his suicide note, which had fallen off the bathroom counter with Dan and the gun. He couldn't feel any other parts of his body. All he felt was the intense pain in his chest.

And then, suddenly, the pain completely stopped.

He felt completely at peace. He tried to smile and close his eyes.

Phil, I'm sorry.

His eyes glazed over, and he fell limp.

Daniel James Howell was dead.