suicide hotline / phan

18

(trigger warning)


*Dan's POV*

I'm up at 5am, by the window. Phil's still asleep, and although I'd wish for the first thing I see in the morning to be his face, I also know that I can't go insane today. I sigh as I throw the cigarette out of the window, knowing that I'm never going to be able to quit. I started at the age of 13, and the feeling's just become too much for me to live without. Especially with the thoughts. The cigarettes help push them to the back of my head, along with the medication. But sometimes, there's only so much drugs can do. Sometimes, a temporary solution just isn't good enough to satisfy the angry beast inside. It wants more than that. It wants to kill you.

And I'd be just about ready to let it.

If it wasn't for a man named Phil.

I know that I can't die, not yet anyway; I can't do that to Phil and I never could. But I'm tired of fighting, I've been trying for the past eight years and still it's come to this- secretly smoking at someone's house covered in bruises from being beaten up, scars painted all over my skin from mistakes that I never learnt from. I wouldn't bother taking my medication, but I remember what happened last time and it forces me to shove them down my throat. I will not allow myself to hurt Phil like that again. I make my way into the bathroom and brush my teeth, eliminating the taste of smoke from my mouth on the off-chance that Phil would taste it. I then proceed to take off my pyjamas and step in the shower, turning the handle and feeling the water freeze my skin and then burn it. The water entered my wounds and stung them as the remaining dirt swam down the drain, eliminating any chance of infection. I've dealt with that before, and it is definitely something I don't want to deal with again. I reach up towards the little metal shelf to grab shampoo, and that's when I see them.

Blades.

I don't think Phil realised he had accidentally left razor blades there, or maybe they'd been there the whole time and I'd just never realised. But nonetheless, I see them, and I feel my mind begin to race.

Cut yourself.

No.

Cut yourself.

No!

just go ahead and fucking do it.

Please no.

I can't do it, I CAN NOT DO THAT TO PHIL! Can I? I grab the shampoo bottle and quickly wash and rinse my hair, rushing out of the shower as quickly as possible and wrapping a towel around my waist.

I can't stay in here.

Suddenly the walls feel too tight, the heat from the steam is too suffocating, the thoughts are strangling me. I can't do it. I push open the bathroom door and run into the spare room that used to be mine, breathing in the fresh air and allowing it to soothe the feeling of suffocation slightly. But the thoughts are still there.

They always are.

*Phil's POV*

I wake up to see Dan sitting across the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, obviously from previously having a shower. His back is scraped up pretty badly still, but there's not dirt left in the wounds luckily. Instead they look raw and bright pink, mixed with the blue and purple of his bruises. It makes my heart ache to see his skin patterned with such things, but just as the day I first saw his scars, I don't think it makes him any less beautiful. He's perfect.

"Morning" I say, and he turns around, smiling.

"Morning" He says back.

"Do you want any breakfast?" I ask him, walking over.

"I already ate" He says. "Do you want me to make you some?"

"No thanks, you need to rest today" I say to him, gesturing to his injuries. "Start healing up"

He nods weakly, standing up and running a hand through his hair.

"Do you have to go to work today?" He asks.

"I'm going to ask for the day off" I say, reaching for my phone. "I'll do that now"

"You don't have to, I'll be okay" Dan insists, clearly feeling bad for 'getting in the way' of my work.

"I want to" I say, as my boss picks up.

"Hey, it's Phil" I say, throwing on my formal business voice.

"Hello Phil" He replies.

"I was just wondering if I could have the day off unpaid today? I have family issues, my boyfriend isn't well at all and I need to look after him" I ask, pleading that he'll agree.

"Well, it's extremely busy today and we've only been working for an hour... so I don't think today would be a good day to have off" He says, sympathetically. "However, you can come in two hours late if that would help?"

"Yes please, that would help" I say, disappointed that I can't have the day off but respecting his reason why. After all, you need as many workers as possible in a suicide hotline.

"Anyway, I'll see you later" He says, and I say goodbye before ending the call.

"I can have the first two hours off" I say, turning to Dan. "I have to work the rest"

"Okay" He says, smiling slightly, and I leave to get ready.

*Dan's POV*

The thoughts leave me alone for a little while, allow me to push them to the back of my head and pretend they don't exist.

That's until Phil leaves.

I kiss him and watch as he leaves in his car, until I can't possibly see him anymore. I turn on the TV, staring blankly at the screen as if it can distract me from what I really want to do.

I'm never going to be happy.

I try to block it out by staring at the people on the screen, talking about cooking.

I'm a waste of space.

Leave me alone.

Everything they called me yesterday was true.

Pathetic, that's what they called me. And they're right, I am pathetic. I am worthless. I am a waste of space and I should just fucking kill myself. I'm useless, I'm still that fucking broken glass that needs to be thrown in the bin. I'm a lost cause, a waste of time, a disappointment, and I just want to scream and make it all go away but it won't. It won't go away and it never will, because I am the issue. I am the problem. The only way to solve this issue is to get rid of myself and even then it will never be enough. 

Somehow I find myself in the bathroom, head in my hands and elbows on the sink. 

I'm honestly just breaking Phil apart with everything I do. The one person that loves me, I'm ruining them. I ruin everyone, not just myself. Why am I even still here? I'm a lost cause, It's obvious.

I turn the blade around in my hand, beginning to tremble. I bring the sharp metal to my skin, and close my eyes, allowing myself to feel every bit. 

One cut.

Two cuts.

Three cuts.

Four cuts.

God, how I missed this feeling.

~~~

*I'm so sorry*