Bullied / Phan

Chapter 2

My bed sheets smell fresh. My dad must have washed them before he went to work. My dad. Oh god I can't let him see me like this. He can't see that something is wrong. Even though everything is wrong.
My mum is currently in the hospital with cancer, and only got a very limited time left. Meanwhile my dad is trying his best to keep the economy going, be a good husband and dad. I don't want him to know that I feel like this. 

As soon as I'm in my room I go over to my small electric piano. I'm thinking about a song to play but there's nothing.
So instead I improvise. It doesn't sound well but it fits my feelings. Minor chords. All of them.
And then I begin to sing. I sing about my mum, my dad, the loneliness... and Phil.

*

Worse. Everything gets worse. It was so much better when I was invisible. It was so easy. Now I'm trying my best to go back to that but it doesn't help. I'm also too tall for that. So big on the outside, but yet so small on the inside. 

I can feel the stares as I'm walking down the hallway. It's worse than normal. I wish I could just disappear. If they could just stop staring at me. They are all judging me right now. The way I'm walking alone, the all black outfit, the look on my face. They must see me and wonder how a boy this tall can't even defend himself. 

I hurry to the first classroom. History. The most boring subject. 

I find my small black notebook and look at the pages. They are all filled up with song lyrics.  I can look at the lyrics and I know when I wrote it and how I was feeling. 

I read a lyric I wrote some time ago. I was cleaning my room and found some old pictures. I wanted to keep the nostalgic feeling. It's not particularly happy, but not sad either. But yet it's both. It's the happiness of the moments. But it's also a reminder of the fact that it's not here anymore. 

The beginning of the book is very happy. There's some songs I wrote with my best friend.. or used to be best friend. We wrote all kinds of songs. But mainly happy. 

As I turn the next pages I know what will come. The song I wrote when my mum got diagnosed with cancer. The sadness. The surprise. But yet hope. I had to be optimistic. 

The next pages only gets darker. Loneliness as I push my friends away, sadness when the sickness got worse. And fear, when I heard my dad cry. He never cries. 

"What do you have here?" I look up and stair into a pair of ice cold blue eyes. 

"Give it to me" I mumble, trying my best to sound threatening.

"Or what? It's not that you can do anything about it" He smiles and look at his "gang" that stands behind him.. If the class could start now that would be perfect.

Phil opens the book, where he ended up on the page with my mum. 

He reads it up. Every word hurts. He reads more and I can't to anything about it. I can't move. Can't even blink. I just stare directly into his ice cold eyes wanting him to stop. 

"So mummy is sick" He laughs. The most cold laugh I have ever heard.

"Yeah I'm living the perfect life... Unlike you. You clearly got a lot of big problems" I try to sound as sarcastic and emotionless as possible. But what had I expected. 

He gets to the end and a smile appears on his face. He goes on for a few pages until he gets to the last song. It's far from done but just a sketch I wrote yesterday. 

It was about the fear and anger. But also about how weak and broken I felt yesterday. That I still feel. 

Instead of reading he begins to sing it. Extremely bad.. on purpose. He takes a few short breaks to come with small comments. 

In this moment the teacher comes in. 

"I'll keep this for a bit" Phil says and takes my book. 

I can't... He has everything. How can I... what shall I... what will he... 

I stand up from my seating runs out of the class out to the toilet. I'm this pathetic. 

That book has some of my deepest thoughts. He can't have that. He can't... 

*

I walk in through the door. The first thing that hits my eyes is the paper. Everywhere on the walls. 

I go over to look at it. Lyrics from my book. Not every song, just the most emotional. The songs that shows how broken I am. 

"Enjoying the 'art'?" One of Phil's friends ask. Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. "Can't you hear me? I said enjoying the art?" He raises his voice. It will go over soon. 

"Yes, it's very nice" I mumble, my eyes nailed to the floor. "Way better than your usual art. This time it's meaningful and not just fuck written everywhere in the bathroom"

It'll be over soon.

*

The hospital's walls are so clean and white. But too clean. In my mum's room the only thins on the walls is a little shelf with medicine, a window and something to clean the hands with. They have tried to make it feel like home by removing all the unnecessary machines from the room. But now it's just empty. 

"Hello honey" My mum smiles at me from the bed as I walk over to her. 

"How are you doing?" My question is pointless. She's paler than ever. And skinnier. I don't know why I'm asking. 

"I don't have that many pains but I'm terribly tired all the time" She forces as smile. "How is school going?" She always ask, even though I visit her every second day. 

"It's going fine. My grades are just as good as last time you asked" I smile, but I'm pretty sure it looks more like I'm in pain. 

"And what about your social life? Have you talked with Tim yet?" Tim is my old best friend. She knows that we stopped hanging out.

"I'm doing fine, mum" I kiss her on the forehead trying to convince her. 

"Honey, don't ruin your life because of me. I'm worried about you. Why don't you go talk with Tim?" She was never the mum who gave advice before. But maybe that just comes when you get told you only have limited time left on earth. 

"Okay, I'll do that tomorrow" She doesn't have to know how I'm doing. It would only make her worse. It doesn't matter anyways.