Save Me// Pastel Dan! Punk Phil!

5

****PLEASE READ****
    Ok, so this chapter is quite graphic. I just wanted to give a disclaimer that I do go into details about rape, abuse, and panic attacks. I describe what's it like to have a panic attack. So if you're sensitive to these sorts of things don't read. I wrote this to show how much being raped and abused effects a person. It's something no one should ever endure. If you ever have when through these experiences, please talk to me or a loved one. Stay safe. And I also summarized the chapter, so go to the bottom if you would rather read that instead.

Word count: 2344

Phil quietly walked down the sidewalk, cutting through an alley littered with broken glass and cigarette stubs. The graffiti on the brick walls distracted Phil from what lay ahead. He had spent two days away from home with Chris. He had skipped two beatings, which meant his father would be angrier than usual. Phil dreaded what was in store for him.

Phil kicked a stone, watching it hop across the cracked pavement in front of him. The sun shone its last rays through the tops of the weathered buildings, giving just enough light for Phil to make his way through the alley. He was having trouble seeing the rock he was kicking because of the dim lighting. He made his way out of the alley onto an empty street, turned left at the corner beside an old gas station, where Phil would hide a lot after his beatings. He turned on to a path with giant patches of cement missing. He was nearly home. He could see his parents dingy house ahead.

Phil hopped over a crushed can and made his way down the path slowly, not in a rush to see his father. As he sidestepped trash along the sidewalk, he formulated a plan in his mind. If I go through the back door. Phil shook his head and quickly shot the idea down. The back door was too close to the living room, where his father was sure to be waiting, belt in hand, surrounded by a cloud of cigarette smoke. Phil's only hope to escape a beating was to climb through his bedroom window.

     He was two houses away from what haunted his nightmares.

    His home.

   And, even more, his father.

    Now, Phil was a fairly tall guy, making it seem as he could put up a good fight. Well, he could if he wasn't starved and beaten nearly to death. The beatings started when Phil was young and couldn't fight back against his 6'4 father. As Phil grew older, he also grew weaker. There were times Phil would go a week without food. One time it landed him in the hospital. His father wasn't pleased, neither was his mother or brother. After Chris heard about Phil passing out in the street and being holed up in the hospital for a few weeks due to malnutrition, he gave Phil meals whenever possible. So, in some sense, Chris was Phil's guardian angel.

      Phil stood beside a motorcycle on the driveway in front of his house. Maybe I could take my clothes and take my brothers motorcycle and get out of here. Phil frowned at the thought that bubbled in his mind. He had tried to run away before, succeeding for about two hours before his father sent his 'friends', otherwise known as the city gang, after Phil. Phil shudders at the thought of what they did when they found him. Tears prick the sides of his eyes at the horrid memories.

      Phil quickly stops thinking about that awful night and rubs the cloudiness from his eyes. He walks to the side of the house and walks up to his bedroom window. His black boots crunched on the brown grass. A lot of times Phil felt like the grass. He was dying slowly and was trodden on, just like the grass under the heel of his boots.

     He grabbed the bottom of the window and tugged it upward, revealing a small, dirty room which belonged to Phil. He propelled his body through the window with the little arm strength he had. Once safely on his feet inside his home, he turned around and closed the window. He turned back around and came face to face with his father.