Phil got dressed in clean clothes and headed out to the hotel room. He walked over to the bed and picked up Dans hoodie.
"He's gone, PJ." He sighed. "He's actually gone."
"Phil," PJ walked over to Phil. "I know he's gone but you have me now." He smiled.
"What do you mean?" Phil looked confused, still holding onto the hoodie.
"I love you Phil," PJ leaned in and kissed him.
"PJ what the fuck!?" Phil pussed him against a wall. "Get out. You are determined to make my life a fucking misery arent you? I just watched the love of my life die in front of me." Phil pushed him harder aginst the wall making him squeal. "You come near me again and I'll fucking kill you. Okay?" He spat.
PJ nodded and left.
Phil sank to the floor and started to cry. The person he thought he had was just using him. He was right. He had no one. He headed back to the bathroom and searched through the drawers and found what he was looking for. A disposable razor. He needed release. He needed this. He broke the plastic and picked up the blade. He ran his fingers over his bumpy, scarred arms and sighed before running the metal across his wrist, drawing blood. He kept going, harder and deeper, feeling better with each cut. He watched the blood run down his arms and drip on the floor. He felt light headed. He started to panic. He was worried he cut too deep. He didnt want to die. Not this time.