Till The End [Phan]

Leave It Alone It Will Go Away

I hated lying to Dan and Phil. I could lie to just about anyone and feel absolutely guilt free, but Dan and Phil? No way. The guilt ate me from the insides out, I hated it. I hated lying to them. But what else was I supposed to do? If I left it alone, it would go away. I didn't need to make a big fuss, a fuss would've made it worse for me. That's all I needed. Leave it alone, it'll go away.

I always got nervous when my mum rang me. I was constantly worried it might be Dylan. Dan said to give the phone to him next time it happened, but Dan didn't understand. He'd never met Dylan. Dylan was almost six foot tall and went to the gym on a regular basis. He wasn't a body builder, but he was stronger than Dan. He was dangerous. He'd always been dangerous. I knew it, I knew from the moment I saw him. He was awful and he scared me. Even at fifteen, he still scared me.

Dylan wasn't someone to mess with. He knew people. He knew dangerous people- more dangerous than him. He wasn't a murderer or a drug dealer, heck, he didn't even smoke. But he was the type of person who knew murderers and drug dealers. He knew people. Bad people. Dylan was a different type of bad though. He could talk the talk, without having to walk the walk. He could talk to you, he could convince you into anything, mainly with threats, but sometimes he didn't need to. I was constantly terrified of him when he lived with me and mum. He'd make me do simple things he could do on his own. He'd snap his fingers at me to make me move faster if he was in a hurry, or even just if he felt like it. He was an asshat.

Lying to Dan and Phil was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do. But I was protecting them. I was protecting myself and Jess and Janis and Cam. It was the right thing to do. I just had to keep telling myself that. It was the right thing to do... and I was going to have to get used to doing it.

My phone had rung while Dan, Phil and me were watching Supernatural a few nights before. It said it was my mum. I knew there was a good chance that it was Dylan. It was quite late, mum was probably drunk or in the shower, Dylan had the perfect opportunity to call me. But if it was my mum, she would've felt like she'd done something wrong if I ignored the call, so I answered it.

Needless to say, it wasn't my mum.

I froze as the voice flared through the phone like lava from a volcano, face planting into the chamber of self despair,
"Jane, get your ass home right now. Your mum's a mess. She won't stop crying, get home now. I don't care where you are, you come home to your mum do you understand me?!" Dylan might have been a brutal asshat who was perfectly fine with threatening a fifteen year old girl, but in his defence, his only redeeming feature was that he seemed to genuinely love mum. Why, I'll never understand. And why she put up with him, or maybe loved him, is an even bigger mystery to me.
"Do you understand that I'm in a care home, right? Even if I wanted to come home to her, which I don't by the way, I wouldn't be legally allowed anyway. So please, stop calling me Dylan- nothing you can say can stop me staying here." It's possible that saying he couldn't make me come home would make things worse for me. It did,
"Shut up, we know you've been fostered Jane. Your mum rang the care home a few months ago. She's not stupid. Now you listen to me very carefully kid: you'll come and see me and your mum every month at least once, or I'll come and see you and your new family- and trust me, I won't be friendly. Got it?" He spat his words at me like venom. There was nothing I could do other than agree. I knew Dylan was serious, he'd find out where I was and he'd hurt Dan and Phil. I wasn't going to let that happen.
"O-okay. Okay, I'll visit. I'll visit. Just don't hurt my family... please." I gulped and stumbled over my words, I'd rather visit them every week for the rest of my life than let him hurt Dan and Phil. He grunted in response and hung up on me, as if he wasn't promising anything.

I felt weak. I hated giving in to him like that. I hated the way he made me think. I knew that if I spent more time trying to deal with my memories of him, it'd be easier to talk to him without feeling so scared. But I wasn't ready for that. It hurt too much.