sentient // phan

http//: 13

And, of course, because he just couldn't catch a break, because he couldn't have a restful night's sleep, because he couldn't have a good day whether he was awake or asleep, because his own mind hated him, Dan dreamed of PJ.

Dan had loved him. He had loved PJ so much that he put up with all the hitting because PJ was the one person who loved Dan back. He was alone and PJ was there for him when Dan needed him most.

It's wasn't PJ hitting him that really hurt Dan, Sure, bruises stung but those could be covered. Cuts bled but those could be healed. It was the fact that PJ hurt him and Dan loved him for it, something he looked back on and realised was a terrible mistake.

The dream was almost exactly like the actual event but Dan felt ten times smaller and Pj hovered above him, a long wire in his hand that he had plucked up off Dan's workshop desk, screaming at Dan but Dan didn't understand what he was saying. He cowered, holding up his arms to protect his face when PJ swung the wire at him. It slit a long, stinging cut along his arm which began to bleed quickly.

"You're crying Dan? Why? Because I hurt you?" PJ mocked, whipping the wire at Dan again. "You deserve it you little whore."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Dan cried as the wire sliced into his collarbone. The white of the bone was exposed and made Dan feel sick, sicker than the smell of the alcohol wafting off PJ's breath made him, and Dan just couldn't take it anymore.

He pushed PJ as hard as he could out the door of his workshop, shutting the door quickly. He pressed his back against it and slid down it.

"Lock." He whispered, and the door complied, sliding the bolt closed with an electronic hiss.

"Open the fucking door, Dan!" PJ yelled through, banging on it. Dan shut his eyes tight, hugging his knees. "Dan, I'm sorry, let me in!" PJ banged on the door again, and Dan started shaking his head. The pain was biting away chunks of his vision, planting stars in its wake as Dan opened them, surveying the room. He reached for the earpiece on his desk, hooking it around his lobe and dialing quickly.

"999, what is your emergency?" The hologram asked, the automated voice buzzing in Dan's ear. Dan could barely breath, and he let out a sob.

"Please help me." He cried. "Please, I need help."

"I'm sending officers to your location right now, Mr. Howell, please stay on the line." Dan couldn't see anymore and felt his body collide with the floor.

Hands pushed him back and shined a light in his eyes. He tried to close them but his body was rigid. Voices echoed around the room as fingers prodded his cuts and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

Hands were still touching him and lights still burning his eyes, sheets trapping his legs and arms in their tangle. Someone was shushing him but Dan refused to open his eyes.

He awoke with a shout, sitting up and breathing hard. The room was bright as it always was at 7:00 in the morning, and the smell of frying toast and fresh fruit filling his nostrils. Dan took a deep breath, trying to slow his pounding heart and dry his streaming tears. He shut his eyes gently, taking deep breaths, running his fingers through his hair. He looked around the room, counting the amount of shirts he could see in his slightly open closet, their perfect corners and perfectly symmetrical stacks pulling him back down to earth. He took one final breath and pulled the covers away, pressing his bare feet against the carpet, flexing his toes. He stood and made his way to face his day.