the broken

Chapter 22

MAY, 2009

Dan

I lay back on the hospital bed that had become my home for the past week, letting a soft sigh escape my lips as the cool sheets touched my hot skin. I don't know how long I'd be here, but I would guess that it's going to be longer than the estimated week that the doctors had previously said. I stare at the ceiling tiles, clenching and unclenching my fists as I try to sort through my messy mind. Phil had gone home for a shower and a change of clothes, which meant I was completely alone for the first time all week. As much as I appreciate Phil being here, and as much as I absolutely adore being wrapped up in those long arms of his, I am glad for a break. Between Pj and Phil trying to constantly cheer me up and the suffocation of the nosy doctors, I am about to explode.

I don't want to kill myself anymore.

I can't get Phil's face when he saw me on the ground out of my mind. It's burned into the back of my eyes. I keep seeing the terror, the absolute fear, keep hearing his voice, remembering the way he broke down. I had never seen Phil break his cool like that, not ever. For once, he wasn't a rock, wasn't calm, wasn't okay. He was shattered glass, a boat on a stormy sea, capsizing. When I close my eyes, I see him dropping to the ground, hear the terror in his voice, see those wild eyes filled with blue.

Maybe I did have someone who cared if I was gone.

Maybe there was someone who wanted me to get through.

If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be here, wouldn't even want to be here.

I didn't know it was possible to break him, but it was. I saw it. I did it.

And I never want it to happen again.

I need to get better for Phil. I will get better for Phil.

I lie there for another hour, lost in thought, until the door swings open cooly, and there he stands.

I look up at him through my eyelashes, at that pink crooked smile and messy hair and blue eyes, a shade you never forget.

"Hey, whats up?"

"Thinking."

Phil walks over to the bed, a gentle smile on his lips, and he pokes my cheeks.

"That's dangerous," he whispers. I smile softly, and he leans down and kisses my forehead, which knocks the breath out of my lungs, straight out.

"Scoot over, you look concerned and I want to make it better," he says, and I oblige, making room for him as he climbs onto the bed with me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

We sit, talk about useless stuff. He plays with my hair, I twist the bottom of his shirt around my finger over and over. The clock is frozen in time and nothing feels too hard anymore.

And then the door swings open.

It's just a nurse, balancing a tray on her hip, raising her eyebrow at us.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?" she says in a sweet voice, and I shake my head.

"Right, dinner time then," she says, and although Phil's hand untangles from my hair, he doesn't move an inch, still pressed up to my side. This is routine. I bite my lip nervously, trying to ignore the way the smell of beef made my skin bubble. I shakily pick up the fork and put a bite in my mouth. The stuffing is swelling. Another bite. It's poking at my threads. Another. I am swelling like a balloon I am heavier than this bed I'm going to break it. I force half the plate down and I'm going to explode.

"I'm done," I say quietly, and she just nods before picking up the tray and leaving the room.

"You did really good, Dan, I'm so proud of you," Phil says, smiling, but I have trouble returning it. I'm so pathetic and the food in my stomach sits like a rock, expanding, twisting. Every cell in my body screams at me to get up, to get it all out until my insides are pink and clean. I am shaking and my breathing is heavy but Phil is beside me, rubbing circles on my shaking hand.

"You're making so much progress. I couldn't be more proud of you." he whispers in my ear, and my heart flips over. I don't need to be pink and clean, not for now. I snuggle into his side and he wraps his arms around me again. I focus on my breathing, in and out until it slows down, let him hold my hands until they stop shaking. And when I slept, not a single bad dream haunted me.

Phil

Dan had fallen asleep in my arms again, and I look down at the pretty boy curled into me. Ever since he'd woken up, I'd been unable to tear myself away, not wanting to let him go for even a second in fear of losing him. I could tell how much he hated this place, hated the white that never ended, the sharp chemical smell that never left, could tell I was the only thing keeping him from running out that door and never looking back, and so he clung to me, like he was scared I would leave if he let go for even a second. Even when I couldn't hold him, he'd still reach for my hand, look up at me with those big brown eyes. It was as if I had unknowingly become the only thing tied down to this ever spinning earth.

And I loved every second of it.

I loved the way his curls tickled my neck, the way they bounced everywhere every time he moved. I loved the way his hands always found mine, the way they fit with my fingers like puzzle pieces sliding together. I loved feeling his heartbeat under his skin, feeling his warm breath against my skin when he sleeps, watching his chest fall up and down because it is a wave of sweet relief through me every single time as I realize he wasn't gone, he wasn't dead, he wasn't dying, he wasn't leaving me.

He may need me, but what he doesn't realize is I need him just as much.

I smooth his hair, and he gives a content sigh in his sleep.

"I love you."

And god, was that true.

Dan

Today is the day that marks my first session of therapy with Dr. Kimmons, and to say I was nervous was a severe understatement. I had been promised that Phil could attend all my sessions with me, but he wasn't allowed to come to this one, and I'd spent all morning panicking silently while Phil tried fruitlessly to calm me down.

"It'll all be okay, I promise, they're here to help you, it's just an hour and then I'll be here and we can eat some dinner together and everything will be just fine," he says in a soothing tone, but it all goes in through one ear and out the other. The clock is a ticking time bomb, and it is quickly counting down to my doom. Finally, the time comes, and I look at Phil in panic as he stands up and takes my hand.

"Relax, Dan. I'm going to walk you there and I'll wait right outside, okay? You'll be fine, this is going to be good for you." he says, and I nod numbly, squeezing his hand and allowing myself to be led through the halls until we come to a large room. Phil gives my hand one last comforting squeeze, and then I am walking through the doors and Phil is gone.

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