Hunger Point | Phan

Chapter Forty-five: I will never find another you

{ Dan }

"I'm going out now." Phil told me, tucking his head in my room. "Are you sure I can't come?" I asked, glancing up from my Manga, pouting. He scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Im getting things for your birthday, silly!" He gave an excuse and I scrunched up my nose, glaring at him. "What if you get lonely?" I inquired persistently. For some reason, I didn't want him to leave... I couldnt put my finger on it. "Keaton's coming. I'll be fine."

I sighed, playfully glaring at him. "Fine. Go. Have fun." I told him, offering a smile. He turned to leave and I stopped him with a "Hey." He turned back to me, expression curious. "I love you." I said, a smile breaking out across his face. All the breath leaked out of my lungs at the sight of the elation on his face. God, he was beautiful. "I love you too."

When he turned to leave, this time I let him.

My biggest regret.

- - -

"Dan, wake up!" I heard, loud and high-pitched in my ear, the sirens I caught being a complementary companion to her shrieks and cries.

I sat up, eyes scanning the scene. I had fallen asleep on my manga, propped up at my desk at an awkward angle. It was dark outside; my blinds were open. I had so many questions that couldn't be answered. Where was Phil? Why was Angela screaming and crying? What the hell was going on?

"Phil's been in an accident!" She shouted, fingers finding and tugging on my arm, lifting me to a standstill. My first thought was: again? I thought he'd be okay, like the other time. Oh..was I wrong.

I met her watery eyes and the look in them was enough to get me running. I didn't stop until I was seated in her car, weary, confused, breathing heavy. What was going on?

She told me everything she knew on the way to the hospital.

Phil was on his way home, Keaton gleefully seated in the passenger seat. Witnesses say the light was green, and Phil had the right away. But a car did an illegal U-turn, miscalculated, and hit Phil head-on. The condition of both her sons are unknown.

I didn't even know I was crying until we reached the hospital and Angie said, real low and soothing despite her questionable mental state, "Do you need to wait here and get it together before we see them?"
Of course I said no. I was going in - hysterical sobbing or not. My nose was red and runny and my head hurt from pumping out endless tears but it didn't matter. I was going to see Phil.

Or not.

I took deep breaths and tried to calm myself while Angela asked about Phil and Keaton. She was going to see Keaton and I was going to see Phil, until they said, "Family only. He's in the ICU due to head injuries resulting in a coma. I'd love to tell you more but that's his doctor's job."

Keaton was perfectly awake and aware in spite of major injuries. Phil was in a coma with full injuries still unknown. I felt like I was going to pass out.

I think that this was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I can't find a single thing that's made me feel like this. Not my past relationships or my bestfriend killing himself or my shitty mother or the rape or Phil and I's breakup. Not any of it.

The hours ticked by with perfect, gradual precision. Angela stayed with her sons, rotating back and forth despite the fact Phil was unconscious. She came back once and tried to get me to eat but I refused. I was done. I didn't care about myself. All that mattered was Phil.

The days went by. Keaton got to go home. Phil's eyes had yet to open. Every time I closed mine I fought back images of his crash, and awoke screaming. I've been putting off sleep now for three days. I've passed out twice from not eating since the wreck. Yet I never ate, just swigged some low calorie gatorade. I weigh 80 pounds and have two percent body fat. I'm willing to let my disorder kill me. I want it to leave me dying on the ground. Without Phil, what's the fucking point?

He's been in the coma for two weeks. It's my choice whether we eventually pull him off life support, if need be. Leaving it up to me isn't wise; I could never let him go. Not now, not ever. We just made up, things just got good again. We were ready to travel all of Europe, start a life together. Now what? I'm just expected to move on?

I walk into the hospital, find Phil's room. They moved him out of the ICU last week. His external injuries are healing nicely. The bruises are already gone. But it doesn't mean shit if his head stays dead. I lean against the wall and stare up at the cieling, letting the lights blind me. I listen to the sounds of the hospital: heart monitors, nurses footfalls as they shuffle from room to room, families visiting patients. Then I tune it all out, flick my eyes to Phil, and let the pain wash over me.

First its light, like sprinkles of light rain. Then it intensifies and washes over me like a wave, and I drown in my feelings hurricane. The tears never come. I'm just numb...knowing Phil could die. And that I could lose him. "It isn't fucking fair!" I shout, punching the wall as hard as I can. I place a small dent in the wall, but I don't stop. I just keep punching. "My life has always been shit! What did I do to deserve this? Give me a fucking break!"

Everything's a blur as male nurses yank me back from the wall and female ones try to console me. I'm sobbing, shaking; my hand's a bloody, aching mess; and my throat is so raw from screaming. Wall plaster is spilling out onto the floor. I just want to die. Please let me die. Anything not to feel like this....anything..

"We're calling your guardian, the one on the file. We'll bandage your hand, and try to convince the hospital not to press charges; you just have to cooperate, okay?" They're speaking to me but I'm too far gone to care. I just listen clinically - emotionlessly. Nothing matters. I'm just done.

// so hi. I haven't updated in forever but I owe it to those of you (who will actually continue reading) to finish this story. Next chapter is the end. Ily guys still c: bye. //