Two Tickets - A Phan Fiction

Chapter 6

Dan P.O.V.

I lay on the rock looking at my best friend while he sleeps.  That sounds way creepier than it is.  Another sigh rolls out my mouth as my thoughts go back to Connor.  I try to stop them but to no avail and tears start falling from my eyes.  I can't believe no one but, me helped him, not even Phil.  With that though my anger is redirected to the boy on the boulder next to mine.  I take deep breaths and count to ten to calm down but it doesn't work.  I get up to leave before I say something I'll regret later.

"Where are you going?"  A now awake Phil asks.  I turn to tell him a lie as to why I have to leave.  "Dan what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine.  I just need to go pick up some stuff from the shop." I say through clenched teeth. 

"No you're not.  Your eyes are red and not to mention that your hands are in fists and you sound pretty upset."  He says with worry etched into his features.  Why'd he have to be so cute even when I'm mad at him?

"Look I'm not mad, I'm not upset, I'm not angry, I just want to go!"  I exclaim more hostile than I thought I felt.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help!  You don't need to get snappy with me!"  He says in a defensive tone while putting his hands up.

"If you're trying so hard to help everyone, why didn't you stand up for Connor?"  My volume increases along with my rage.

"That's what you're mad about?! You know I don't do well in high pressure situations, it's not my fault!  I almost had a panic attack, I couldn't do anything!"  He barks right back.

"It's always about you isn't it?  How do you think Connor felt?  Do you think he wasn't having a panic attack?  All you did was sit on your bum and look like a lost puppy."

"What did you want me to do?"

"Well geez, I don't know, maybe back me up!"  I say sarcastically.

"I don't understand why you're attacking me I didn't do anything wrong."

"Because you didn't do anything at all."

"You're being a major jerk right now!  I pretend to have my life together for your sake and the one time I let myself slip, you act like this!  I'm not perfect, Dan.  You're not the only one with problems, I struggle too!"

"You know what?  I'm tired of your crap!"  I shout before stomping out of The Shade and all the way to my house. 

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Spoiler kind of

*Trigger Warning for self harm*
Skip this part if you want.
TLDR; It's just #DepressedAngstyDan doing some bad things

I flop onto my bed and with a sigh the tears I've been holding back since I found that letter stream down my face.  I scream and cry and shout but, no matter what I do the pain in my chest won't stop.  It feels like my heart has a hole in it. 

Phil and I have fought before but, this time something was different.  This isn't going to be one of the arguments where we forget about it tomorrow.  I was insensitive and took my anger out on him.  He's always been there when I've broken down but, I go off when he does.  I'm a horrible person.

"What if we never make up?" I ask myself out loud making myself cry harder.  "What if he hates me, now?  What if he's tired of having to comfort me?  What am I gonna do with out him?"  The word vomit continues to pour out my mouth until I get an idea.  I haven't done it in a while but I know it numbs the pain.

I get out my bed and walk to the bathroom.  My vision is blurred while I rummage through my drawer.  I promised Phil that I wouldn't do this again.  I'm not thinking straight.  I don't need to do this.  What is Phil gonna say?  Nothing because he doesn't care about me.  No one cares that's why my parents are gone.  Everyone already knows I like guys and now Phil hates me so, it doesn't matter anymore. 

My mind makes the desision as I find what I was looking for.  I take a razor out of the pack, break it open, and remove the blade.  Four months clean all for nothing.  I pull down my pants to where my side is exposed and drag the blade against my skin.  Tears fall from my eyes faster and I cry harder but, I continue to make slashes.  I push harder making the cuts deeper and jaget.  In a matter of 2 minutes, I make at least 25 wounds.  All my energy is spent. I sink to the floor with blood running down my side and leg.  Then, I go numb.  I don't cry or get mad, I don't do anything.  I don't feel pain or sadness, I don't feel anything.  I don't think anything.  I just sit in the floor looking straight ahead. 

I don't know how long I sit there but I eventually get up.  I look down at my side from which an alarming amount of blood is pouring from my body.  I grab a handful of toilet paper and press it to my hip in an attempt to stop the bleeding.  I stand there for the next 20 minutes applying pressure before most of the liquid ceases from running out of me.

I get some bandages, gauze, and ointment to prevent infection.  I check the damage in the mirror and find it's worse than anything I've ever done before.  I sigh again, the scars are going to be ugly and won't fade well.  I clean and bandage the wounds, wincing the whole time as the pain sets in. 

I open the cabnit and grab a bottle of pain medicine and sleep pills.  I open both and grab some a few capsules of each.  Definitely more than I'm supposed to take at one time but I don't care anymore.  I swallow them all without any water and head back to my room. I lay in bed and fall into a deep sleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.