Open Eyes (Phan)

Nineteen

Trigger Warning- This chapter contains self harm.

Dan

Why.

It took absolutely all of my effort to keep my sobs in. As Phil showed me around his flat, and afterwards when he sat me down in the kitchen to make midnight waffles. I could feel my insides shriveling and disintegrating. I could feel my throat closing up as my lungs began to constrict and fight for air.

Why was I here.

Phil placed a plate in front of me. His pink tongue poked out between his teeth as he beamed at me. I forced down bite after bite, all of them settling like stones at the bottom of my stomach. I felt nauseous. My stomach twisted impossibly tighter. I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath.

Why couldn't I be gone.

I just wanted to be gone.

I forced the hot, burning tears back when Phil turned to me again, suggesting we go watch a movie. I felt myself nod. I didn't want to watch a movie. I didn't want to eat waffles. I wanted Phil to hold me again. I wanted him to wrap his long arms around me and pull me into his warm chest. I wanted to breathe in his cinnamon and vanilla scent. i wanted to go back to the bridge.

I wanted to be gone.

My mind was screaming and shrieking as I sat down next to Phil on the couch. The static in my brain grew deafening as he switched on a movie.

I hated him.

I hated Phil.

I hated him for saving me. For bringing me down. For being there. For saving me. I didn't want to be saved. I didn't want to live another god awful day in the disgusting world of daggers dipped in poison.

I hated myself.

I hated myself for hating him.

This man that smelled of warm vanilla and cinnamon. He only wanted to help. Help me. I still didn't know why. Even when he told me it was because he needed me. I didn't know what that meant. No one needed me.

Oceans.

The night.

And snow.

I struggled to get breaths in and out of my body. I kept glancing over to Phil, to see if he had noticed anything. Then I'd look back at the screen, to make it seem like I was watching. But the colored people on the screen were growing fuzzier by the minute.

Why couldn't I just be normal.

I couldn't let Phil see me like this. I couldn't let him watch as I snapped like a small twig. So I excused myself to the bathroom. I had to brace myself against the wall to keep from collapsing.

And once behind the safety of a locked door, I looked into the mirror. A creature with sad eyes and disheveled hair stared blankly back at me.

I placed both of my hands on the small counter. I closed my eyes. My throat tightened even more. My arms shook as my chest constricted. Hot tears slipped past the crack in my eyelids and leaked down my pale cheeks.

When I opened my eyes again, the creature in the mirror was red faced. His cheeks were slightly puffy and his eyes were red. He was crying, too.

"Stay strong. Stay strong, okay?" I told the creature in the mirror. My voice was cracked and hollow. Like someone had plucked a violin string too hard. He nodded back at me, eyes pleading. "You have to keep going."

Both of us sobbed violently.

It took me a few moments to collect myself enough to stop shaking.

There was only thing that would bring me any relief.

I opened all of the drawers. I moved things around, but was careful to put it all back. I finally found what I was looking for above the sink.

The package was unopened. So I tore at the perforated line and took one of the razor blades out. I put the package behind some bottles of hair product. Maybe he wouldn't notice.

I told myself just one.

I promised myself I'd only do one.

But as it always did, one became two.

And two became four.

Until four turned into twelve. On each arm.

The blood beaded up in a perfect crimson line.  A drop of red wine on the brim of the fragile glass. And the beads trickled down my arm, taking their own separate paths, into the porcelain sink. One drop at a time. I drew with silver, and it turned to red, and red stained white.

It started burning a minute later. I let out a breath as I felt the pressure underneath my skin escape through the open wounds. The tension in my veins was released through the cracks in my skin.

My vision cleared. My hands steadied. My heart returned to beating at a normal rate.

Calm.

I felt calm.

The world drifted away on an invisible tide. It was me. Just me. Standing alone. With scarlet tendrils falling down my porcelain skin. It was quiet. No screaming. No shrieking. No bickering in my head. Nothing. I felt peaceful. Sane. Like a soft yellow. Feeling that we're hard to come by.

There was a knock at the door.

The sound was so sudden I jumped out of my skin. The three knocks on the door reverberated against my heart. I dropped the blade. It clattered to the floor.

"Dan? Are you okay?" Phil's muffled voice swept through the door.

The tide came crashing to the shore. Screaming filled my head once again.

I just.

Wanted to die.

"Y-yeah!" I called back, staring at the blade. I didn't dare move, as if the slightest movement would alert Phil to exactly what I was doing. "Just give me a minute!"

I tried to speak clearly. I tried to keep my voice from shaking.

"Are you sure?" Phil asked again.

I finally moved. My limbs felt stiff as I bent over to pick up the razor blade. I shoved it into my pocket, and pulled down my sleeves.

I opened the door.

I was met with an anxious Phil. His crystallizing eyes pierced right through my soul. They were filled with concern. And fear. His hands were fidgeting with the hem of his cotton blue shirt.

"S-see? I'm fine." I told him. He nodded slightly.

"Okay. It's just that you were in there for a long time." His eyes never left mine. My skin melted under his gaze. Like he was untangling my nerves and ripping them from where they wrapped around my bones.

"Really?" I feigned surprise. "I didn't notice."

He didn't believe me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked for the third time. His eyes narrowed. I felt my heart in my throat. I swallowed, but it wouldn't go back down.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He shook his head.

"No you're not."

The calm was years away. Miles away.

I couldn't say anything. Words got caught on my tongue, stuck in my mouth, glued to my gums. So I just looked at the ground. My head spun like a carrousel. I longed for the bridge.

I felt two soft fingertips touch the bottom of my chin. They lifted my head up. Oceans looked back at me.

Phil smiled softly at me.

And before I could blink, he was wrapping his arms around me. I let out a noise of surprise as I was pulled into his chest.

I don't know what it was. Whether it was the warmth of his body, or the stability of him. Maybe I will never know.

But the mask slipped off before I could catch it and put it back on.

Within moments I was sobbing into his shoulder.