im here // phan

nineteen

Damn, of course Phil was going to come find me. How did he escape the machine room? Did he get scanned? How is he walking? He is probably in immense pain.

"Dan, Dan I thought I, Dan, I just Dan, Dan, I, Dan..." Phil stammered, and he limped over to me, wincing with every step. He collapsed down next to me, sitting in a huge pool of my blood. His sweatpants soaked up the blood as he sat down into it.

"I'm sorry, Phil, I just called my dad's number, and, and his voice, and I couldn't stop it...my thoughts came over me and you weren't there, to stop, to help me." I cried. Phil looked at me, took a deep breath, and let the tears come out.

"Dan, don't die, I, I need, I need you." He stuttered. He was afraid, I could tell. His hands were shaky as they reached for mine, so I grabbed his large hands in mine, and squeezed them as hard as I could. The cuts pulsed on my wrists, but I still held onto Phil.

"I won't die, Phil. I just needed to feel pain..." I cut myself off. Phil slid his fingers out from mine, and placed them onto my bleeding cuts. He didn't seem to mind all the blood he was getting on him, because he kept stroking the cuts. His soft, long fingers kept running along my cuts. It burned, a lot, but it was Phil. It was a soothing burn.

"I need to, need to clean you, clean you up." Phil said, standing up. He walked over to the paper towel dispenser, pulled out a whole roll, and came back over to me. He ripped some off the roll, and pressed it onto my wrist. Again, the soothing burn. It felt like 1,000 angels were stabbing me. "Does this hurt? I don't want to hurt you."

"It's fine. But, Phil? Are you okay? You literally almost died and you are out here worrying about a depressed boy." I asked. Phil laughed, and winced a bit.

"I'm fine. I do hurt everywhere, but the scan showed no brain damage. I just have lots of aching bones. Aching muscles. But, I learned to get over it. Pain is just a figment of your imagination, anyways." Phil explained. I didn't realize Phil could get so deep. I tilted my head, and he kept explaining.

"Your brain makes up pain. Your body sends signals to your brain to tell you that your in pain. But if you take control of your brain, you can just stop that train and take over. Don't think about the pain. Don't let it consume you. You are not your thoughts, you are not your body. You are simply you." Phil said, his eyes shifty. But then, they settled on me. I looked back at him, and I saw Phil. Not his body, not his thoughts, but Phil. Just as he explained it. He wasn't a body, he wasn't the thoughts he had, he wasn't the words he said, he was just Phil.

"That's, uhm, very deep." I stuttered. Phil shrugged. He pressed the paper towel on a little harder, and it prickled. That good prickle.

"It comes with the anxiety." He sighed, taking the paper towels off of my wrists. He ripped more of the roll, and replaced the old, blood-soaked ones with fresh ones. Less pain this time.

"Ahh." I said, looking down at my wrists. The towels were already blood-soaked. Phil didn't seem to mind.

"You get trapped inside your mind sometimes. It's hell up there. No escape. Anything it says...goes. It wants you to skip a meal? Sure. That's what happens." Phil mumbled. He replaced the towels again. My wrists just did not want to stop bleeding, I guess.

"Relatable. But in a different sort of way. Depression kind of sneaks up on you and is like hahaha your gonna have a bad day and then you lay on the floor the rest of the day. Sucks, doesn't it? Mental health?" I inquired.

"Yeah. Very much so. Imagine being normal. Having a normal state of mind." Phil said, almost reeling for the answer.

"That would be weird. Depression - and anxiety in your case - is just a part of me. It would be weird to be without it." I answered. Phil replaced the towels...again.

"I understand what you're getting at." Phil remarked. He adjusted his sitting position to something more comfortable. He was sitting on his ankles after all.

"How have the doctors not found you yet?" I asked, my hands beginning to tremble. Phil took the towels off, and wrapped his fingers in mind.

"Don't shake." He whispered. "Oh, it's because I asked to go the the bathroom. They said I was capable of walking so I could go by myself with out walking assistance. It would be weird if they helped me with the bathroom." He said, laughing a little after.

"I would seriously hope they would not do that." I giggled. Phil bit his lip, rolling his eyes. He wiggled his fingers in between mine, and it felt kind of weird, but nice at the same time.

"I probably will have to leave soon. But I do suggest getting your wrists wrapped up, or looked at if your comfortable." Phil gulped. His long fingers unlatched from mine as he stood up, and he swore under his breath.

"I'll wrap them myself. It's funny, because I always keep a plaster on me. Honestly, I never know when I'll hurt myself." I explained. Phil bobbed his head.

"Wrap them. I have to go back. Please, if you ever think about hurting yourself again, call me. Message me. Try and find me. If you can't, look for a picture of me. I do have a couple YouTube videos under the username AmazingPhil if you want to hear my voice." He consoled, and I nodded.

"Okay. Thanks. Good luck." I said, pulling the plaster from my pocket.

"Any time."