I'm trying o.k?

Chapter 13

Dan's pov:

The hospital had recommended therapy but I refused it. I didn't want to sit in a room telling a stranger how I feel. In secondary school my parents tried me with three different counselors and they were all awful. They were so optimistic and had no clue how I felt, they couldn't possibly comprehend it and I recognized it as how I felt before the depression. If you never go through it you never understand.

Eventually they agreed to release me after their analyzation supported the idea that I could go home if I had Phil (or someone) around me and he gave me regulated anti-depressants. I couldn't stand the idea of Phil having to look after me, it was what I was trying to prevent all along. As far as I saw it I had very few options for dealing with this.

I had yet again become Phil's burden.

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Phil's pov:

I had moved back into the apartment a day before Dan was released so that I could unpack and change bed sheets as well as hide anything dangerous. After a while I realized I couldn't avoid the bathroom forever but when I went in everything was already clean, I texted Chris and he said him and Pj had cleaned it up so I wouldn't have to deal with it.

The idea of Dan hurting himself again worried me so I hid EVERYTHING, all the cleaning products and knives were hidden under the kitchen sink. I wondered around Dan's room and found a sharpener blade identical to the one he used before under the lamp next to his bed, google said it was the most likely place to hide a blade in someones bedroom. In his cupboard were three bottles of vodka and next to his bed was a open one as well as an empty one. Dammit Dan. I felt so sorry for him but I knew the last thing he wanted was my sympathy.

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When I brought Dan home he barely talked to me. We stepped into the hall and I turned around to close the door.

"Want to watch a movie?" I asked but there was no reply, I looked around and Dan was gone.

"Dan?" This reminded me of that night, calling for Dan around the apartment.

I walked past the lounge and looked down the hallway to see Dan standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He had opened the door and stood frozen, staring into the tiled room filled with memories of death.

"Dan..." I reached out my arm to pull him away but he turned and walked into his bedroom, where I saw him sit down on his bed, he looked down where the vodka used to be and upon seeing no trace of it he laid down on his bed and curled up. He didn't get under the covers, he didn't even cry, he just laid down and stared at the wall.

"I'm getting food do you want some?" The hospital had made him eat but he had been reluctant, I was hoping he would eat better again at home but he shook his head and continued to avoid looking at me. "Dan you have to eat something."

"Why?" He spat out bitterly.

"Dan you need to eat to stay healthy, to live." As soon as I said it I regretted it because he span around and glared at me.

"Why the fuck would I want that Phil! What about the last week has suggested that I want to live?" His eyes burned into me.

"I- I'm sorry."

He stared at me for a bit longer before his lip quivered and and he dropped his head down. I saw tears running down his face and his chest rose and fell with staggered breaths. His hands shook and his tears streamed but he wouldn't say a word. Five minutes passed before he managed to figure out what he wanted to say, it sounded calm and composed as if it was precisely what was on his mind.

"I just don't care Phil. It doesn't matter how many times you say my life is valuable because it isn't, not to me. And I know you have no idea because I can't explain depression to you Phil. I can't explain colours to a blind person."

I laid down next to Dan and I felt like I couldn't breathe, like I had been so stupid for ever believing I could understand him, feel what he was going through just by listening to him yet I realized I never would. So I laid on the bed and I cried, it seemed like this had become my reality yet it had always been Dan's.

"You know if I could understand everything you went through I would want to. But I would never want to feel it because I can see how much it hurts you. I'm going to watch a film now you can come if you want, I'm going to have dinner too but you don't have to. It's as if you have no care for yourself and maybe I can replace that part of you but only if you let me."

"I'll watch a film with you but no dinner."

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Later I was sitting in bed and heard the shower running and took comfort in Dan at least being about to maintain personal hygiene as if it showed he cared a little bit. Than I remembered how Dan had showered frequently before the hospital. Maybe too frequently.

I heard the shower door open, signalling that the water was now hot enough for Dan to get in yet it didn't shut instantly.

"Fuck."

He had sworn loudly enough for me to hear before slamming the door shut. My suspicions were confirmed as I knew the blade Dan had used was previously stored in the bathroom and every time he was showering he was cutting himself. And the worst bit about him swearing was that it meant he had reached for the blade with intent on self-harm before realizing it was gone.

Dan still wanted to hurt himself and he wasn't telling me when he felt and urge to.

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Dan's pov:

I would never be able to explain how I felt about life and death to Phil. He had offered to be a sort of moral guide to me, tell me when I should eat and keep me from self-destructing. As much as I knew Phil was trying to help I would never be able to let him do that because I would get angry when I didn't want to eat, feel as though he was forcing me. I would convince myself he was doing it on purpose, to annoy me because he was evil. It may not be real yet but I knew it would be. I would hate Phil for sure.

My parents had offered to visit but I told them I didn't want to see anyone for a while, that I didn't have the energy to face them and discuss everything. That seeing their faces would be painful enough. They agreed to leave off for a while if I emailed them once a week just to have small talk about what I had done. My mum sent me a parcel in the mail that was a shoe box full of boxes of malteasers, hot chocolate sachets, a candle that smelt like pumpkin spice cookies and a toy bear I had from when I was younger.

It was her way of being there when she couldn't be and I appreciated it yet it made me sad to feel that it had come to this. She shouldn't be looking after me anymore. I thought of my brother and smiled at the thought that he would be there for her when I couldn't be anymore. But what about him? I'm meant to be the older brother and look after him but I can't. I suppose some things just don't work out the way the world planned them to.

Over the next few days I tried to pretend that I was better so that Phil would stop worrying about me. I would eat around him only to excuse myself to the bathroom and throw up later. The blade in the bathroom was gone and most of them had been cleared from my room yet I remembered Phil had gotten a scented bath kit thing for his birthday a few months ago with a razor yet he put the razor and shaving cream in a draw in his bedroom with other crap because he used electric razors. When Phil was in the shower I snuck into his room and stole the razor, I removed the blades and hid them next to my bed. They would be sharper than my old ones since they had never been used.

It was tragic how desperate I was to continue my deterioration from a normal lifestyle yet it was like my brain was dead. I knew how bad it was, I understood it perfectly however I didn't care, couldn't care because I was too far gone and nothing seemed like it would get better.