Home Alone - Phan

8. Fading to black

*Dan’s POV*

‘When I realised I was sitting there, in our living room, I got up and lay down on our couch, trying to sleep. But all I could do was roll around for hours, unable to let go of you being away because of a fight. My head continued the story, by adding the image of you, lost in the dark streets, rain dripping down your face. You got beaten up by big guys after you left a pub. You were drunk, half asleep, with your face on the bar, and you didn’t pay them, so the bartender threw you out the door.’

‘But Dan…’

‘No, Phil, no,’ I cut him off. ‘Please just let me tell you my story. I know this is not what happened, but I just couldn’t think clearly anymore, so my head constantly made up stories like this one.’

My neck and back had started to hurt from the long sitting, so I cracked them, and sat against the back of the bed.

‘I don’t remember getting up from the couch, but I must have, as I suddenly was standing against the kitchen counter, breathing heavily. It was hard to stand upright, so I sunk down on the floor. I must have had a blackout, as I suddenly woke up again in shock. My breathing had calmed down, so after a while, I slowly stood up and got me a glass of water. I drunk it all in a matter of seconds.’

‘You hadn’t drunk anything in hours,’ Phil added with big eyes. You could tell he was in shock.

‘Exactly. But, I sat down just in time, as the world faded back to black again almost immediately. When I woke up again, I must have walked to the couch again, as I woke up from a little nightmare again later.’

‘How come you don’t remember anything you did that day?’ Phil asked and sat next to me against the back of the bed.

‘How am I supposed to know, Phil?’ I asked maybe a little too irritated, as Phil shrank and immediately apologised for asking.

I just sighed and continued my story.

‘Of what happened afterwards I only remember a few images. There’s me pacing up and down the hallway, the living room, me lying down on both our beds, in the hallway, on the kitchen floor, on the coffee table, everywhere. Finally I ended up leaning over the toilet, wanting to throw up, but not being able to do so.’