Outcast ✧ Phan

Ten

999? Dan thought. That's the emergency line.

Mr. Jones said a few quiet sentences into the phone, and although Dan couldn't hear what he was saying, he was still trembling with the thought of being taken home in a police car, riding in the back like a criminal.

Dan squirmed in his seat, stomach churning. It took only five minutes for his ride to come, probably because the station was near the school. Mr. Jones told him to follow him outside. Dan, reluctant, did so.

When they got outside, there was a police car, one just as he had pictured, waiting for him. Mr. Jones opened the door and, shakily, Dan climbed inside. The man up front was in uniform, as expected, and looked old enough to be his great grandpa. Dan wondered about all the horrible things the policeman had seen. All the people he's had to take to jail, or to even kill.

They drove down the parking lot, away from the building and from Mr. Jones, who was watching from the pavement. The man driving asked him where he lived, and Dan told him, voice weak and croaky.

Don't cry, Dan. It'll be okay. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.
He told himself, trying to calm down by staring out the windows. The bars on them didn't help.

The ride there went by extremely slowly, and Dan dreaded the entire time he spent in that car. He just wanted to get home, to run inside and find out his mum was alright, to hug her and listen to her tell him how everything will be okay, like she always does. He wanted that more than anything.

When they pulled up, Dan nearly threw himself out onto the pavement.

"I'll wait here, alright? Go see if anybody is home, then come back out and tell me." The policeman said. Dan nodded, running to the front door and twisting the knob. It was unlocked.

He stepped inside, breathing heavily. "M-Mum? Dad?" He yelled, heart sinking slowly with every second of silence that followed. He edged through the house, trembling. He checked the living room and kitchen first, which were both empty, then his mum's room. Then his dad's. Then his. All empty. The only room left was the bathroom, which was at the end of the hall. He expected it to be empty, too, and to find out nobody was home--which was why he was so shocked when the door didn't budge at first push.

There was no lock on the bathroom, so something must be blocking it. Dan pushed harder, hearing a squeaky sound as it slowly moved. When it was wide open, the first thing his eyes landed on was a chair, which apparently had been what was blocking the door. The second thing his saw was his mum. He let out a panicked gasp as he took in the sight; she was, still wearing all her clothes, in the full bathtub. Her eyes were closed, and the water a orangy-red colour. She had an arm hanging off the side of the tub. Her already scarred wrist had, in contrast to the horizontal ones, three vertical cuts, fresh and bleeding onto the floor.

Dan staggered forward, noticing the other wrist was the same. "M-Mum?" He choked, dropping to his knees in front of the tub, his pants dampening with the blood spilled over the tiles.

"Daniel? Everything alright--?" he heard the policeman's voice from the front door, footsteps clicking as he spoke and cutting off when he made it to the bathroom. Before Dan knew it, he was being dragged away by his arms, pulled out of the bathroom and into the hall. He didn't object, he was too frozen to do anything, not even move or cry. The man dropped him, then ran back to the bathroom and started speaking hurriedly into the retriever on his shoulder.

Dan picked up a few things he was saying, like "son" and "mother", but the one that really snapped him out of his shocked state was "suicide", a word he had read about online.

Dan let out a choked sob, the tears he'd been holding all day spilling all at once, dripping down his face. He fell forward, eyes shut, holding himself up only by his trembling knees and hands, crying out wordless screams. He could feel himself breaking, shattering like a glass vase.

Dan wanted to wake up, to open his eyes and find out it was all a horrible dream, to be hugged by his mum again and listen to her comforting words.

He did open his eyes, but he didn't see his bedroom ceiling. Instead, he saw the tear-blurred flashing red and blue police car lights shining into his windows, their sirens loud and blocking out everything else, even his screaming, as other policemen rushed inside.

A/N - ahh that was long. also, 100 READS?! holy fudge, thank you all so much! please accept some cookies ( I don't actually have any cookies, nor do I have an ability to transport things through the internet, but could you just pretend I do and am handing them to you right now to avoid the embarrassment of me not giving you any cookies after offering them )