The Artist | Phan

The Broken

T R I G G E R   W A R N I N G- abuse, depression, depressing thoughts...-nico
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Broken-(adjective): (of a person) having given up all hope; despairing

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Dan POV:

I stripped myself of clothes, only leaving my boxers as I stared in the mirror, disgusted with my body. I couldn't help but notice the rolls of fat sticking to my frame like gum to hair.

I wanted nothing more than to be rid of this fat that stuck to me, but it seemed no matter what I tried, nothing seemed to work.

My stomach growled with hunger, but as usual I ignored it. I couldn't help but wince at the stabbing sensation in my torso, my body begging for food that wouldn't come. 'Fat' the voice chided.

I know... I know I'm fat, leave me alone. I thought, sighing softly. My breath was shaky, no air reaching my lungs as it was supposed to.

'Your ugly and stupid, why would Phil ever want you? Fat. Ugly. Stupid. Revolting.... Fag' the voice chided. I curled into a ball on the bathroom floor, my breathing beginning to speed up as I desperately tried to quiet the voices.

'You don't deserve anyone's love, why did you think anyone could ever love a waste of space like you?' the voice continued. I pulled my knees to his chest, burying my face in my knees and staring at the blackness that endlessly consumed me.

'Why aren't you dead yet?' the voice jeered, my head pounding. I was finding it difficult to breath by this point, my vision going blurry and my chest twisting at the lack of air.

Please... stop... I thought, tears I didn't know existed streaming down my face.

'Not until you are dead' the voice snarled, my head pounding to the point my vision turned white with how much it hurt.

It hurts, it hurts so much, please just end me I thought over and over again.

I was aware of a pain in my side, I figured it was just a cut that had re-opened, but I was mistaken. "Get up you fucking fag!" an outside voice screamed. I couldn't force myself to do what had been commanded of me.

Another pain appeared in my knee and then one in my back. I writhed on the floor, my spine spasming as it came in contact with something hard. A foot... I realized to my horror that the voice was my father, and he was beating me again.

I did nothing to stop him, even if I wanted to, I couldn't; If I fought back it would only make things worse than they already were.

"I fucking told you to get up!" He screeched, pulling me by my hair and dragging me downstairs. I winced with each step that jabbed into my body, my cuts scraping against the floor. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming in pain.

"Pl-please just kn-knock me out... I d-don't want this an-anymore." I whispered, my voice empty and void of emotion.

I looked up at my father with pleading eyes, aware that my skin was wet; probably from the blood of my freshly opened cuts. My eyes widened when I was dragged towards the counter. "P-p-p-please n-no n-n-not l-like th-this" I stuttered, my voice shaky and panicked.

I struggled to get away only for his grip to tighten on me, making me whimper in pain. "You wanted knocked out, it's the least I can do for a fag like you" he snarled.

My father adjusted me so my head was a mere foot from the edge of the counter. I whimpered quietly, bracing for what was coming before he brought my head down on the edge of the counter. I screamed in pain, crumpling to the floor as my vision began to fade.

This is it... I'm done, I can't do this anymore; I'm broken... but I guess that's what you wanted. I thought to myself as my eyes drifted closed and delivered me into unconsciousness.

Hope fading 

Broken

On the verge of suicide... 

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Phil POV:

I blinked my eyes open, groaning at the headache that had manifested in my head. I reached up, gently running a hand through my hair to discover an aching bump on my head. I sighed quietly, forcing myself up off of the ground and into the kitchen.

I dug through the drawers, searching for a bottle of advil. To my disappointment, I couldn't find any. I settled with ibuprofen, the next best thing. I quickly downed the medicine, hoping it would kick in soon.

I glanced at the clock, noting it was roughly 10 am. I couldn't read it well, my glasses had been cracked when I fell. I huffed in irritation, wandering up the stairs and into my bathroom.

After 5 agonizingly slow minutes I managed to get both contacts in, noting I looked like an absolute mess, which is exactly how I felt. I brushed my hair out, just leaving it partially crinkled; I didn't care enough to straighten it.

The events of last night nagged at me; I figured it was best if I just left Dan alone now; I had messed up big time. I sighed softly and laid on my bed, pondering if there was any way to maybe fix this mess.

I was rather disappointed when I couldn't come up with any ideas. "Thanks brain..." I mumbled sarcastically. I fiddled with my pale hands as usual, not having the slightest clue as to what I could do about the situation I was currently in. Go to his house? I thought to myself, immediately scrapping the idea, I figured Dan didn't want to see me at the moment.

I glanced at my phone, noticing the notification; Dan had posted something. I smiled weakly, opening the notification and sighing softly, admiring his beautiful artwork. I glanced through his recent posts, noting they were a lot darker than usual things he posted.

I had discovered Dan was a delicate balance of "broken" and "okay". I figured I had disrupted that balance. I made him worse, I didn't fix him. I thought to myself sadly. I sighed, slipping my earbuds into my ears and blasting Taxi Cab by Twenty One Pilots as loud as it could go, singing along quietly with the lyrics;

I wanna fall inside your ghost

And fill up every hole inside my mind

And I want everyone to know

That I am half a soul divided

Dan was indeed a divided soul, I wanted to fix him but I wasn't sure how to and it hurt me. I pushed these thoughts out of my head and kept singing along quietly, subconsciously fiddling with my hands as I did so.

Sometimes we will die and sometimes we will fly away

Either way you're by my side until my dying day

And if I'm not there and I'm far away

It felt as if I was close to Dan, but in reality I was so far away; I could do nothing to help and it seemed that the chocolate haired boy didn't want my help.

I said "don't be afraid."

I said, "don't be afraid. We're going home."

But going home was exactly what Dan was afraid of it seemed, and I hadn't the slightest clue as to why.

Thanks for all of the votes, reads and replies! Hope you enjoyed the chapter :) -nico