twisted (phan) || book #2

twelve

tw//some smoking, described bruises or marks

P H I L ' S P O V

The sight I had experienced was something I'd never dreamed of.

Dan had been choking himself, nearly dying, in a hospital. You could see the rage in his eyes, his veins popping out of his skin and his muscles flexing.

When we made eye contact it was different.

It was like the power had gone out in his eyes and there was no light left. It was like the dark after lightning finished glowing in the sky. It was like walking in on the person you love with somebody else.

Everything had drained from him.

All I know is that something had changed in him as soon as he laid hands on himself. It seemed as if. . . if he was meaning to do it to someone else. "Phil," he had said, before the medicine finally got to him and he blacked out. They began to carry him back to his room and I walked back to my room, trying to even my breathing.

After calming down I rushed out to see Bryony talking to a paramedic. "Is he alright?" I asked the man. He nodded.

"Just shocked, is all. I'd like to keep the boy here for awhile. It is necessary to check his brain activity."

"That's fine." I gulped. He then left and Bryony looked up at me, her hands still shaking.

"I think he was trying to choke me. He stared at me the whole time he did it to himself, I think that in his head he was doing it to me."

I looked at Dan through the room, trying to get a view of his neck. A doctor moved out of the way and I struggled to swallow. His neck now had dark purple fingerprints, a mark that bruised his skin from the tight grip from his own hands. I averted my eyes, gazing back at Bry.

"He nearly died, Phil. He could've killed himself without even realizing what he was doing."

I nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "I don't know if we can save him," she whispered. Then suddenly, for the first time, I saw Bryony cry. She threw herself into my arms and sobbed against my shoulder, her whole body trembling and her chest heaving. I pat her back and shushed her softly, holding her tightly. "It's not safe. He's not safe. . . We aren't safe."

"What do you mean?"

"Nyla disappeared last night, Phil."

I stiffened and could no longer reply. I didn't know what to say; this was bound to happen. That's why I told Dan not to say anything.

After she had fallen asleep in my arms I stood, carrying her bridal-style to my room. I set her in the bed and washed my face afterwards.

I trudged out my room, peeking into Dan's. He was on his bed, arms strapped to his bed. We locked eyes. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were terribly bloodshot with bags underneath them. I hadn't noticed how much paler and skinnier he had gotten, and I wish I never had by the looks of it.

"Dan," I whispered. I shook my head. "Dan, you're fine. It's for your own good."

He furrowed his eyebrows, eyes watery. "How could you say that?" I could tell it was hurting him to talk. I watched as he weakly pulled against the restraints, his skin beginning to raw from rubbing against the leather. "You did this to me, Phil. I met you and now look at me. You did this!"

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave."

I looked up at the doctor and nodded, slowly making my way out. I took one last glance at my boyfriend, his previous statement echoing through my head. You did this to me. Quickly, I turned, refusing to let him see the tear slipping down my cheek. I wiped it away, shaking my head.

I shut the door behind me, and then it was silence. I looked down at my feet, then back up when I noticed someone staring at me. The stranger shot me a sad smile, a cigarette propped between his two fingers. "Is he alright?"  

I chuckled half heartedly. "I don't know, you tell me."

"I don't blame him. I never liked hospitals."

I sat down next to him. "Why are you here?"

"Forget me," he shook his head, then shot me a lopsided smile. "Why are you here?"

"There was a bomb at a club I went to last night. As you can tell, it didn't end very well."

He laughed. "I see that."

It was silent for a few seconds before I spoke again, eyeing the cigarette he placed between his lips. He took a drag. "Is that even allowed?"

He shrugged. "No."

I laughed, then it faded as my thoughts began to cloud over. "Do you. . . Do you have any left?"

He flashed me a lopsided smile. "Have you ever smoked before?"

"I used to. I haven't since. . ." Since Wirrow died. "Since awhile."

He chortled, reached down into his pocket, keeping the other one in his jacket. He grabbed the pack of Marlboro cigarettes and snaked one out, handing it to me. I put it between my lips and watched as he grabbed the lighter, lifting it to my pursed lips.

I inhaled, watching the smoke leave my lips as I exhaled.

The boy reached down and grabbed the whole pack, shoving it into my hands. "You need this more than I do."

I smiled at him. "Thank you," I said. I then took another drag from my cigarette.

His lips twitched at the corner. He stood. "What's your name?"

I opened my mouth, then shutting it. Should I tell him my real name? I looked him over before lying. "Nate." He reached out his hand and I took it with my free one. We shook.

He let go of my hand, and then suddenly the smile wiped off his face. A devious smirk masked his freckled face, and then I felt it. The cold piece of metal pressing against my skin. A gun.

"A murderer and a liar, Phil? Tsk tsk."

Cautiously I looked down, seeing his fist on the pistol that was pressed to my stomach. And more importantly, there was a 'W' carved into the side of the weapon. We locked eyes. "Scream and I'll shoot you," he told me.

I was terrified, so I did the only thing I was capable of.

I nodded.