Trapped//Phan

Chapter Thirty-Five

PLEASE READ: TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER HAS SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/ACTIONS
Please be safe

"Dan! I'm going to the store!" Phil announced. It had been a couple weeks since "brownie incident" but that's all either of them could think about.

"Okay!" Dan responded quickly. He hears the apartment door creak open and slam shut. Dan let out a sigh of relief, sometimes it was nice to be alone. But Dan had forgotten what being alone does to you. How if draw out the dark side like moth to flame. How it makes you feel lonely, and he would much rather be alone forever than ever feel lonely.

I like Phil.
But I'm not gay. So I don't like Phil
But I really like Phil.
Shit.
But he helped me through so much,
And I just want to with him all the ti-

"FUCK!" Dan screamed. He started punching everything around him. The pillows, the wall (which hurt), and the mattress. He wasn't angry, or sad, or upset. He just was punching, punching every problem out of his life, until they broke down. He imagined the pillow with Phil's face.

"THIS IS YOUR FUCKING FAULT... IF I NEVER MET YOU I WOULDN'T HAVE THIS PROBLEM DAMNIT!" Guilt overwhelmed him, causing panic to rise and spread.

No.
No. It's not his fault.
It's not Phil's fault.
He's done so much-
It's me.
It's all because of me.
I am the reason I'm failing apart.
No. No. No. no. No. NO! NO! NO!

He screamed.

Stop stop stop stop stop stop
I DON'T WANT TO DIE
YOU CAN'T MAKE ME
STOP
STOP
I WANT TO LIVE
I WANT TO SEE PHILS GET HOME
I WANT RO SEE CHRISTMAS
you can't make me
No stop
I don't want to
NO!

Dan ran in his room and shut his door, choosing the corner with the mostly distance between him and the door. Hi brought his knees to his face shaking in violent matter. He was so afraid, afraid that if he walked out he would kill himself, and he was trying everything he could to prevent that. But at the same time, that's all he wanted to do.

I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick I'm sick.
I need help help help help help help help help help.
Dan tried to move, he tried to get his phone out of his pocket, but he couldn't; the only the place he could move was at the door. And if he walked out his door, you might as well start picking out coffins.

Dan blinked and he was in the bathroom. He had no idea how he got there, because less than a second ago he was in his room. Dan turned to run, but turning is all the farthest he got. Because his legs wouldn't move, knowing there was a razor in the bathroom. He tried. He tried to move them, but he couldn't, they were stone. And there was only one way they could move now.

Help.
Just help.
Please.
For once I'm asking for help.
I don't want to die.
Don't make me.
I can't keep losing.
I can't.
I can't.
I can't.

A battle was fought that night, one won, and the other was lost. Neither of them were in Dan's favor. The side that won, fought well and hard, they hardly tried at all. The battle lost, were without shoes and clothes, bare and lonely, forgetting why they're even fighting in the first place. The ones who won, brought blades and fear, the ones who lost, were in despair. And though it seemed it would never end, it finally did, but another began. That's okay, because the battle that brought blood shed where nothing got better, the scars were easily hid from everyone, with a simple sweater.

Short update because my grandparents are visiting for a short amount of time. So I need to spend time with them.

Okay continue on with your day/night.