Broken Hearted People (Phan)

Chapter 2

Phil quivered in the corner of his room as his bedroom door slammed closed. Slowly he rocked back and forth just wanting to die. For the world to swallow him and let him fall into oblivion. Phil slowly brought his hand to his arm and whimpered as he touched a fresh bruise and cut. Many of them covered his body in different forms, some quite obvious fist marks others more shaped like vodka bottle necks. Slowly tears slipped down his face.

Letting himself cry was a big deal. School Badass Phil Lester is not allowed to cry. At least he assumes so. That's one thing Phil says is "Wrong" with himself, he assumes rather than asking.

He buried his head in his hands and let out a sob. Shadows of the moon fell across his room covering him like a quilt. Darkness comforted him sometimes.

Suddenly Phil heard his 4 year old sister scream and cry. Phil's veins boiled with pure anger and he pushed himself off the floor and hissed as a burn off his father's cigarette sizzled slightly. It took Phil a few seconds to regain his balance and the mist of tears to disappear from his vision.

Phil gripped his bedroom door handle confidently, well he tried his hardest to be confident. Inside Phil wanted to vanish and cry to someone but he doesn't really have anyone. Chest high Phil strode to his sisters room.

"Get. Off. Her. Now" Phil hissed venom at his father. Phil tried not to cry as his fathers grip on his sisters arm tightened and she whimpered unable to move.

"Ha. Wow, it's just another beating for you in exchange for your sisters well being for tonight." He chuckled evilly. Phil's father gave a smirk that said "Try me".

"Fine" Phil said through gritted teeth. Instantly Phil's Dad dropped Phil's little sisters arm and strode over to Phil.

Phil knew he was already pretty beaten but he cared for his sister more than anyone else. Most likely his mum was passed out downstairs from alcohol. That's when Phil felt the familiar painful impact to his stomach. Coughing, Phil doubled over whilst his sister hid under the covers not wanting to watch. Phil felt another punch in the middle of his back forcing him to the ground.

Kicked, battered and bruised is how Phil's dad had left him after kicking him in the stomach numerous times. The only noise was his father stomping around and his sisters quiet sobs. She's way too young to experience this. Phil thought to himself.

Phil hobbled over to his sisters bed, clutching his side trying to control his breathing.

"Annabelle?" He whispered quietly, not wanting to be the cause of another beating. "It's Philly" Phil was sure if a few of his mates heard this they'd all have laughing fits, but they don't understand what it's like. A small hand reached round the edge of the covers. Phil smiled with a cut lip. Slowly she crawled out, she stayed a little curled up, subconsciously protecting herself.

Phil picked Annabelle up and hugged her in the corner of the room as she shook violently. "shh, shh, shh" Phil shushed her soothingly. Phil's façade faded instantly and he cried whilst stroking Annabelle's hair gently, trying hard to comfort her.

Eventually after a while Annabelle fell asleep and Phil tucked her into her bed. For about a minute he just watched her chest calmly rising up and down, dreaming of a better life than this one they were stuck with.

Phil found himself unable to move, his legs won't work. Soon enough he'd be able to move, but in that time all he could do is wait and...think. Thinking was Phil's most Dangerous weapon.

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Phil woke up at 6am. He'd fallen asleep. Suddenly Phil burst into tears, unlike many other kids, Phil hates weekends. Sadly stuck with his parents, his mother hadn't done anything to him last night but Phil was sure his body would be covered in many more cuts from Vodka bottle glass. Not his self manufactured ones.

What made Phil furious was how good his parents were at hiding the many scars they'd given him. Problems of being school badass, everyone thinks you got the scars in some huge awesome fight. Maybe they would be right if a fight with his own emotions counted.

"Philly?" Phil was brought out of his own thoughts as his sweet little sisters voice whispered to him.

"Annabelle?" Phil said mocking her slightly. She let out a small giggle making Phil feel a little better.

"Why are you up so early?" She asked quietly. Another thing is Phil's parents get so Piss drunk every that they don't wake up until about 5pm, practically nocturnal.

"Wanted to see your b-e-a-utiful face!" Phil smiled as his sister laughed at him. She has that laugh that most 4 year olds have, small and loud, she made it work though.

"Your silly Philly" Annabelle laughed at her own joke. Phil mentally face palmed but laughed along anyway because...she's 4.

"How about we go and see Charlie today?" Charlie was one of the only friends, along with Chris and PJ, Phil felt that he could trust. It took quite a lot to earn Phil's trust.

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!" Annabelle cheered. Hopefully Charlie is free and available for them to see him.

Awkwardly Phil stood up as the pain in his leg from the night before struck again. Phil put on a smile to protect his sister.

"Hey Charlie." Phil sighed as his friend picked up the phone.

"Hey Phil." Charlie wasn't exactly oblivious to what was happening but there wasn't much he could think to do about it.

"Do you mind if me and Anna come round for a bit?" Phil asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Phil sometimes called his sister Anna for short, he kind of switched between Anna and Annabelle.

"Sure. Do you to wanna stay over?" Charlie asked concern etched his voice. Phil didn't know what to say. Both are kind of a lose lose. He stays he gets beaten, he goes he gets beaten twice as hard when he gets home.

"Yeah. Sure" Phil sighed. To everyone else Charlie was another one of Phil's "cronies" but if any harm came to Charlie, Phil would halfway kill the person who caused the harm.

"Hey remember you have to show that new kid round on Monday!" Charlie reminded me. I sighed and felt the heat come back after it bounced off the phone screen.

"I hope he's cool."