5. Keep clean - everyone must think you're doing okay
It was easier said than done.
The thought was so tempting.
The reward seemed so much better than fighting it.
I missed the pain.
I missed the emotion I used to feel dragging a blade across my skin.
I missed watching the blood drip down into the sink as I washed my arms clean.
My arms looked like a canvas.
And I wanted to paint them red.
So I did.
But with paint rather than knives.
If anyone saw cuts on my arms, my plan would be ruined.
I knew that.
Pj would take my blades away.
He'd called the doctor.
They might section me.
The only reason I escaped it before was because Phil was there.
They might see me at high risk now he's gone.
I couldn't let that happen.
I dipped the end of a pencil in some red paint I'd found in the back of a cupboard (potato prints O_O) and locked myself in the bathroom.
Soon red lines covered my arms once again, and I felt a wave off relief wash over me as I stared at my finished piece.
This technique would delay the inevitable for just a little bit longer.
I watched as the paint slipped down the plughole, staining the water red.
The water stopped, and I looked at the marks on my arm.
Gone.
4 weeks.
YOU ARE READING
Wordless Conversations // Phan (sequel to Bring Me Home)
FanfictionDan's better now. He's been clean for over a year. He takes his medication and his relationship with Phil is going strong. But then one day something happens. A terrible accident. Dan visits everyday, but with Phil in a coma, can Dan keep himself to...
