Forever Mine

Chapter 6: My Part

I DON'T OWN DAN AND PHIL.

// trigger warning: blood and self harm //

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They finally let me out of my straitjacket, which was good. All I had to do was cooperate. Say what they wanted me to say. Like some sort of robot.

But none of that really mattered because I still had those dreams. Those terrible goddamn dreams. Some were worse than others. There were some that were just plain gore and blood, but some started out with love. They started out with lying in Phils arms, his warm lips on mine. But in the blink of an eye, all the changes, and I'm reminded of what I did buy his blood.

"Just finish your part." he would say to me at the end of every dream. But what does that mean?

My skin itch and crawled at those words. I couldn't get my mind off of them.

My eyes slightly twitch from the crawling fly on my lid. It's a little legs made its way on top of my eye, but I couldn't be bothered to swat it away. It didn't even bother me... my mind was somewhere else. It was on Phil.

I kept reflecting on the night of the accident, and Phil's words in my dream.

Then it hit me.

I was right. I just didn't finish my part.

"I have to kill myself." My lips coldly mumbled to myself. My mind told me that if Phil and I had died at the same
time, we would stay together.

But I never died.

If I want to do my part, I was going to have to find some pills or something. I searched around for anything sharp or a bottle of dropped pills, but it was no use. You couldn't get hurt in this padded cell even if you tried.

I'll do it myself. Whatever it takes.

I clutched my hand into a fist and pounded into my head repeatedly. I was so desperate. So desperate for the warmth of death to enclose around me so that it could soon be replaced by the warmth of Phil.

"Goddamnit why can't I just die!" I yelled flinging myself into the wall, my soft and sensitive skin crashing onto the squishy interior.

Before I could even blink, a whole squad of doctors came in and grabbed my arms and legs and put them into four foam boxes.

"Please just kill me!" I begged, crying into my hands that were now encased in foam. I whole body shaked and quivered. I looked like your typical crazy person that you would see in some type of Hollywood movie. Except this wasn't in a movie. This was reality. You can't escape reality by simply pressing a button on a remote. For some, it may seem that easy. But for others, pressing that button would mean ending their life.

"We're going to get you some help. It's going to be okay!" One of the female nurses said calmly, trying to quiet me.

Then I blacked out.

****

The next day they took off the foam cubes and took me into a dull room with an atmosphere dryer then that random box of saltine crackers you have had in your cabinet for about two years. It was almost completely dark, and there was only a few chairs and place where the light leaked in.

"If you'll just sit down over there Mr. Howell we will get your session started." The nurse said kindly pointing to the chair with arm restraints attached to it.

I did what I was told, and soon enough a man came in and strapped my arms in.

"Who are you? Oh wait let me guess...you must be the asshole psychologist. Oh you know? The one I have to spill my guts to just to have them rebuttal that it's all my fault." I spat.