twisted (phan) || book #2

eighteen

D A N ' S  P O V

"Want to play a game?" He asked, his back to me.

I glared up at Parker. It had been a few days since I got here, and every second of it was absolute hell.

I've been tortured- slapped, burnt, kicked, cut, whipped, poisoned and insulted. I don't know what they're planning; whether they'll get the truth out of me then kill me, or they'll let me go. So far I think the first choice is the most likely one.

"Last time I played I game with you I stained my clothes with my own blood."

"Aw, come on Danny, loosen up."

He still hadn't turned to look at me, his back to me and his hands resting on the small wooden table at the front of the room.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "How long have you been a part of this pact, Parker?" I snarled. "Were you with them back when I was on the swimming team? Is that why you tried to kill me? To get the job done for Wirrow since Phil couldn't of it himself?"

"Yes and no," he began. "I was in this pact, yes, but I wanted to kill you for you. I told myself your boyfriend would do it, but the more he didn't the more anxious I got."

"Then why didn't you do something easier? Why didn't you slam my head against the concrete, or snap my neck-"

"I wanted you to suffer."

I gulped. "You're disgusting."

"I'm the insane one? We all know what you've been up to- the hallucinations, the attacking, the mood swings and nightmares- if anything you've lost your mind before any of us."

"How do you know all of that?"

Parker chuckled. "No reason," he lied lamely. He turned to face me and I noticed the sharp knife in his hand, capable of cutting from even just a poke at skin. He took steps towards me and I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling in my seat.

"Oh and I forgot to mention, the metal on this knife has heating over a fire all day, so this may burn."

I felt the metal meet my chest, and I let out a blood-curdling shriek, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes as he teased the knife down my pale, bare chest.

"Stop it, please! Please!" I pleaded.

Parker only tilted his head at me. "Why don't you cry, Danny? Don't you wanna cry? If you keep holding it in, you'll break down like a bunch of logs being tossed out of the way of a moving dam. So cry."

"I don't cry."

"Bullshit," he hissed, slicing the knife across my stomach. I yelped in pain, cringing. "You don't let yourself cry because you're afraid of looking weak. But you don't get it, Dan-" another slice. "You are weak. Everybody knows it. Before all this you were just some shy little queer who wore flower crowns and said stupid poetic shit that nobody cares about-"

"Phil cares."

That earned me a slap to the face. "He doesn't. Nobody does. Phil? He's pretending. The only reason he hasn't killed you yet is because your blood will be on his hands and he can't have that. Truthfully, he's tired of you. He doesn't love you, and he's not coming to save you, so stop telling yourself your knight in shining armor will slay the dragon and crown you as his princess, because that shit only happens in the fairytales. And this is anything but a happy ending for you, my friend."

I looked up at him. "You're right," I breathed. "It's a nightmare."

"It appears, if I must say," he said. "You're living your own personal nightmare."

P H I L ' S  P O V

"He could be dead."

"But he could also be alive."

"Stop putting false hope in my head!" I shouted at Bryony, standing from the hotel bed. "I heard him crying over the phone when he called me. Something definitely happened to him and we have to check it out, alright?"

Suddenly the phone rang and a Bryony and I raced to snatch it, Bryony grabbing it before I could. She answered and put the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Who is it?" I mouthed. "Is it Dan? Who?"

She shook her head, her mouth dry. "It's Nyla."

My eyes went wide. "Gimme the phone," I hissed, taking the device from her and putting it up to my ear. "Nyla?"

"Phil, oh my god, I've missed your voice- listen, I don't have much time and I- they took me, I've been here-"

"What's going on?" I pushed.

"They've got Dan. They have him, Phil. Wirrow's pact. They've been torturing him until he would pass out, vomit, or both- not to mention they've been spitting insults at him non-stop and are constantly making lies sound like the truth. If you don't save him now I'm afraid you'll never be able to, and I mean that both mentally and physically."

"Okay, where are you?"

"We-"

"Nyla, what the fuck are you doing with my phone?" A voice cut in. I tensed.

"Nothing, I was-"

A sharp smack cut her off and I winced. "Nyla?" I whispered.

"Don't touch my phone again!" He yelled at her. I heard fumbling and then his voice rang out through the device. "Who is this?"

I instantly stilled. My jaw dropped. His voice. I know that voice.

"What happened?" Bryony hissed. I gulped, unable to form words as terror and shock struck me.

"You either tell me or I make you tell me."

My grip on the phone loosened. "R-Ross?" I stuttered. There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Oh my god, is that really you?" Ross chuckled. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah," I exhaled.

"Phil Lester, my favorite ex," he laughed. "How've you been?"