Broken | Dan and Phil Fanfiction [COMPLETED]

Blood

-Phil's POV-

I storm out of the room and into the almost empty hallway. I feel the blood running out of my nose and onto my lip where it drips onto my shirt. The taste of metal was nothing new to me. 
I was fuming and I couldn't stay at school because I would get into unimaginable trouble.
I kept walking down the hall, occasionally slamming my fist against the lockers, creating a rhythm. When I get to the fifth set of lockers I hear a click of a door.
I pause and look back. Out of the corner of my eye I see Dan.
"Phil?"
Does he actually care?
Of course not. He probably sees me as a monster. Hell, I see myself as a monster. I'm no different from my father. My own father that I dread and despise, is what I have become. I just couldn't control my anger, and after what happened last night I needed something to help me blow off steam. 

I ignore Dan and keep walking. I can't get in any relationships. I can't get close to anybody because everybody I've ever been close to has hurt me.

Or I've hurt them.

I'm relieved when I hear the door close but then I hear footsteps behind me and soon enough he's caught up to me and is walking alongside with me.
"What do you want?" I say without looking at him.
"I um... I just wanted to make sure you were okay.."

"Well I'm fine."

"Like I know this is weird and we've only known each other for two days but you just kinda snapped out of nowhere, so, are you really okay?"

I shift my weight and get slightly annoyed.
"I don't know!"
I snapped at him
I need to stop
I'm turning into him. I'm becoming exactly like him. I need to calm down.
I stop walking and turn and face Dan.
"Look, I'm sorry okay? He just pissed me off and I just need some time."
Before he can say anything else I walk out the front doors, leaving him on the other side of the glass, and leaving me with no other choice, than to go home.

He was right. I did "just snap". I had to learn to control my anger because it could have been somebody else. It could have been him.
~~~~
My father's car wasn't in the driveway, but my mother was home. She was always home. I blame my father for the way she is. After she saw what he did to me, she started drinking.
A lot.
When she got drunk she wouldn't hit me but her words were almost as bad. She said things that I wasn't even sure mothers could physically say to their children.

I quietly snuck through the door and traveled up the stairs, carefully avoiding the cigarette butts littered around. Not that my mother would even care if I'm home from school early or that I was covered in blood.

I walk into my room and lock the door. I took my shirt off and began to wash my face in my sink. I dry myself off and start to examine the damage in the mirror.
My bruise from my father had gotten worse. It was starting to turn yellow around the edges, and the reds and purples had deepened. A new bruise was forming on my other cheek from Brady, and my nose was still slowly trickling blood. 
[TW (razors)- SH]
I walk back into my room and open my drawer looking for a new shirt, but something else catches my eye. It was a gleam off of a plastic container that got my attention. 
I knew what it was.
I had to lift up a couple of shirts to reach the bottom of the drawer, but there it was. They were still just as shiny and as sharp as when I first got them.
It was a package of blades for a box cutter, but I didn't even own a box cutter.

I pick up the blade and roll it around in my hands.
It had been about two months. Which was honestly a long time for me. I don't like to pity myself. I know my life might suck more than other kids but that didn't make that shit okay. If I'm being honest I'm just a pussy and I didn't have any other way to cope. 
But I wasn't going to trash two months worth of fighting just because of Brady, or my dad.

I throw the razor across my room and it bounces next to my door.

~~~~

I lay on my bed with an ice pack on my nose. It was really starting to hurt, but I'd hate to see Brady.
I kinda feel bad for him. That last kick was unnecessary, but I couldn't stop myself. I just couldn't let him get off that easy. I honestly don't know what got into me. I suppose all the anger that's been bottled in me for months, all came out when I was fighting him. For a split second after it ended, I felt good. I felt relived that all the anger had resided, but it was quickly replaced by guilt. I'm thankful that Dan pulled me away before I could kick him again.

I wonder if that's how my father started. Just took it out on kids at school and then when he got out of school he needed somebody else. And I guess that somebody was me.

I roll over on my bed and I hear something crack. I look down, and slip my hand into my pocket. I pull out a wrinkled piece of paper with a number on it.
Oh yeah
I had gotten Dan's number on the first day.
I stare at the paper wondering if I should call him. I wonder if he wanted to come over. He probably didn't, but I at least wanted to talk to him. He seemed pretty shaken up by the scene that I had caused earlier, and I wanted to apologize. sometimes I forget that not everybody is so used to violence. My dad absolutely hated when people came over but he knew that he couldn't do anything about it until after they left.
It was worth a shot.

I punched his number into my phone and hesitated a moment before I hit dial.

When the ringing stopped I knew that he had picked up and I panicked.

"Um hi. It's uh phil. From school. I- uh, just wanted to apologize for how i acted towards you earlier and how i acted in general."

"Oh hey uhh," he paused for a moment, "it's fine, don't worry about it."

"Soo I was wondering if you wanted to come over and just like chill or something. I know i acted crazy this morning but I just wanted to talk." There was a moment of silence and my heartbeat quickened. He hated me. Why was I even asking him that. I don't even know him that well.
"Yeah. That'd be great."

"Okay. See you here. I'll text you the address."
I hang up the phone and let out a sigh of relief. 
I sat up and realized that while my room was clean, the whole first floor of the house was littered with beer bottles, cigarettes, and dust. I wasn't sure how much time I had before Dan got here, but I was going to have to do some cleaning.