Open Eyes (Phan)

Twenty

Dan

I was better.

Sort of.

I still spent my nights crying and listening to the bickering voices in my head. But when I woke up in the morning I wasn't met with stony silence.

I had been staying with Phil for a week now. I was sleeping in the spare room across the hall from him. Which was okay, I guess. It was still lonely, but at least the duvet that covered my shoulders didn't smell like fear and dread.

Over the last seven days, Phil and I had established a routine. We were both up around eight in the morning. We ate a small breakfast, usually consisting of waffles. Phil had to go to work after that. Sometimes I went with him and sat in my cozy little corner. Other times I'd stay in the flat. After he got off, we'd spend time together. Sometimes we watched a movie. And sometimes we would take a walk around the city. Our time together was peaceful, comforting.

One day, Phil brought me to the park on the edge of town. We sat down at the top of a grassy hill underneath a massive oak tree. He opened the bag he'd brought along and produced two sandwiches, two champagne glasses, and a bottle of white wine.

"I know you're not old enough to drink, but I figured a couple of glasses wouldn't hurt." He'd said as he popped off the cork and poured the glittering liquid. I watched as it splashed into the transparent glasses, like a waterfall into a lake.

"I don't mind," I'd replied. I was so happy. And yet so terrified. I didn't want to screw this up. Whatever this was. I wasn't sure. All I knew was that it meant so much to me, and I didn't want it to end. For once in my life I had something that I genuinely enjoyed. For once I had something that I could actually lose.

Phil handed me a glass, and I took a sip. It was crisp and bitter. It slid down my throat.

I tried to tell myself everyday that I was getting better. I tried to convince myself that everyday was getting a little easier. I couldn't tell if I was lying.

Phil was trying so hard to make everyday special for me. I didn't have the heart to tell him that exhaustion gnawed on my bones. That my will to live was once again being stripped from my veins. So I put on a smile for him.

I got out of bed every morning for him.

I didn't have any other reason.

"Dan."

The sound of my name snapped me from my thoughts. I glanced over at where he was currently sitting next to me on the couch.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" He asked me. I wasn't okay. I didn't know what it felt like to be okay.

"I'm fine. I just zoned out," I explained.

We were watching Death Note. But Phil had paused the screen so he could talk to me. I didn't know why. The story on the television was far more interesting than anything that I had to say.

"You sure?" He pressed. His eyes were filled with wonder.

I nodded in response.

I was getting tired of lying to him. Of lying to myself.

"I've been thinking," Phil started. I felt my insides twist. "What about your dad?"

"What about him?" I asked, my voice quiet and shaky. I kept my eyes on my lap. I could feel his eyes drilling into my side.

"You said your mum and brother left, right? What about your dad?" The burning in my side intensified.

Dad.

My dad was one subject I was not willing to bring up.

I forced a shaky breath in and out of my lungs.

"H-He's gone."

"Where did he go?" Phil pressed. I fidgeted with the end of my sleeve.

"To the next life."

Silence.

"Oh."

My head was filled with static.

"What happened?"

"Suicide. The day after I was born."

More silence.

"Then who do you live with?"

"My step dad."

"Is he okay with you living here?"

"I haven't t-talked to him."

He can't know

He can't know about us

Change the subject

Leave

Don't tell him about us

"Why not?" I could hear the surprise in his voice. The curiosity.

Don't tell him

Don't be stupid

I couldn't speak. Any words that would've been useful got caught behind my tongue. I sat there in stunned silence, unable to get anything past my throat.

I could feel the panic rising up from my toes. It invaded my legs and waged a war in my chest.

"I..." I croaked. It was the only syllable I could muster. The only sound I could get out.

The voices shrieked. They clawed at the sides of my skull. Scraped at the walls of my head. My brain filled with static. Static and screaming. It got loud. Booming. I fought to keep my hands in my lap and away from my ears.

"Dan."

I heard my name. But I couldn't tell where it was coming from. I couldn't tell if it was someone on the outside or one of the voices in my head.

Black laced the edges of my vision.

Black clouded the rational thoughts in my mind.

I felt a hand on my arm.

I snapped my gaze up. The hand was connected to an arm. Arm attached to a shoulder.

Phil.

Through the black waves and screaming.

There was Phil.

"Dan."

His mouth moved to form the shape of my name.

Oceans. The night. Snow.

His other hand rested on mine.

The black engulfed everything, snuffing out anything living.

"Dan!"