Open Eyes (Phan)

Four

Dan

I was still shaken from my encounter with Phil.

He had been so nice to me, which was shocking. And he'd asked to hang out with me. No one wanted to hang out with me. No one wanted to be nice to me. So why did he?

He won't want to when he finds out about you.

I scowled at the voices in my head.

"Shut up," I whispered.

All I could think about was blue eyes and dark hair and a smile brighter than the sun. Sounds cliche, I know, but I didn't know how else to describe it.

And that's all I'd been able to think about for several hours.

Several long, seemingly endless hours. I'd spent them in my room, laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling. And once again thinking about oceans and the night sky and snow.

My step father wasn't home, fortunately. I don't know where he was. And frankly, I didn't want to know. He'd probably left the house while I'd been away at the bookstore. All I could do was dread the moment he returned.

I closed my eyes, and immediately an image of Phil flashed in my mind, lighting up the backs of my eyelids. I couldn't get him out of my head. Probably because no one ever bothered to glance twice in my direction, or speak to me. Let alone want to get to know me.

He can't know about you, idiot.

Leave it to the voices in my fucked up, schizophrenic head to ruin any moment.

Add that to the list of things that are completely wrong with me. It was just the cherry on top of the reasons why Dan's a fail cake that is my life.

Every disorder gave my step dad another reason to hate me. Another reason to beat me black and blue whenever he felt like it. Or felt like I deserved it. Which was every moment of every day.

I let out a long, heavy sigh. I looked over at the clock next to my bed. It showed 8:30. I knew I wouldn't be sleeping tonight. I just hoped he didn't come home in the dead of night.

I sat up in bed when my alarm went off the next morning, groaning. I was extremely tired. But there wasn't anything new about that.

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and stood. I almost fell over. I was never very coordinated. But at seven o'clock in the morning, I could barely stand up straight.

I got ready for the day in about forty minutes. I had to straighten my hair and get dressed, then grab my bag after making sure it had all of my school books in it.

Time for another week of hell.

I stopped at the coffee shop before school to grab my daily dose of caffeine. I then walked down the street, taking the long way to my high school. Which meant walking past the bookstore.

I saw Phil at the counter through the window, fixing some books on a shelf. He didn't see me, as his back was turned to me. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

I was ten minutes late for my first class by the time I walked through the front doors of the campus.

I rushed through the halls and to the science wing. My first class was Chemistry.

I came face to face with a closed door when I approached my classroom. Which meant I'd have to open it. And let everyone know that I, Dan Howell, was late.

My hands began to shake.

Go in, Dan. Let them see how much of a failure you are.

Instead of listening to the voices in my head, I backed away from the door.

I could skip a class. It's not like it was my first time. So I walked through the halls for an hour. Mindlessly roaming. Going no where in particular.

No one confronted me the entire time. Except the occasional student or teacher, the halls were empty. And no one who passed me stopped to question the fact that I wasn't in class.

They didn't notice me at all. Because that's what I was in this school. The invisible kid. To everyone.

The bell rang, a loud blaring in my ears.

Well, almost every one.

"Hey! There he is!"

My heart rate instantly quickened at the sound of the voice. I tried to scramble away, but something grabbed the back of my collared shirt and yanked me back.

Then I was whirled around to face Mike. The school's bully. My torturer.

The corners of his lips were raised in a twisted smirk, his eyes cold and hateful.

"And just where do you think you're going, faggot?" He sneered. I was to terrified to answered. I just hung from his fist like an absolute idiot.

"You didn't think you could escape our daily meeting did you?" I shook my head vigorously. No, I really didn't.

Pain exploded in my stomach as his fist collided with my gut. I whimpered softly, but made no protest beyond that. I was thrown to the ground and swiftly kicked in the head. My vision blurred. I tasted blood.

His friends sniggered. He erupted with laughter. I only whined in pain.

He kicked my head again before walking away, his group trailing behind.

I stayed on the floor, tears falling down my face and blood leaking from my mouth.

Students simply walked around me. Even teachers turned their head away from the boy curled up on the floor.

And so, my week begins.