Worried and Silent (5)

                                    

                                          
"Hi, Phil. I'm doctor Casper."
                          
I was silent. I didn't say that I thought it was funny that her last name was the same as Tabitha the sim's. I didn't say that her room smelled like pastries. I didn't say that this couch was uncomfortable, or that lying down would make me cry so I'll just sit up. I didn't say I didn't want to be here but my friends forced me because they were worried about me. I didn't say I understood how upset they were with me. I didn't say how worried about myself I was.
                          
I stayed silent. 
                          
"I know you're hurting right now, Phil. I want to help you. You don't have to talk right now. But I'd like you to. Your friends are worried for you." I nodded, starring at the pattern on the carpet. The doctor sighed.
                          
"I saw the note he left you." she said. I looked up, quickly, angry.
                          
"That wasn't for you to see." I spat. Those were my first words in a week.
                          
I can't believe it's only been a week since Dan left me. I can't believe it's only been a week since the ambulance came to my flat for a second night in a row, and pulled his body from the shower where he had slit his wrists. Only a week since I scrubbed that floor for hours, wearing away the paint, wearing away the skin on my fingers, bloodying rag after rag. Only a week since I ran through bottle after bottle of soap, until it looked pristine, but I kept scrubbing, as if this weird habit Dan had acquired in the last months of his life would somehow bring me closer to him.
                          
"I know. But Louise gave it to me. She said it might help to analyse it."
                          
"No." I was numb, had been numb, for what felt like my whole life. I was confused. I was scarred. I never want to speak again. "If it's all the same to you, you're getting paid no matter what I say. So if you could just let me sit here and wait the hour out, I'd be really appreciative." Why was I being so rude?
                          
"I want to help you, Phil."
                          
"And I want to go home."
                          
~-~-~
                          
"How'd it go?" Louise asked. She had been waiting for me with Pj in the lobby of the therapist's office. They had dragged me from my flat and pulled me into a taxi, begging me to go, once, talk to a professional.
                          
"We're devastated too, Phil," Pj had said, "But Dan would want you to move on." I stayed silent. They had dressed me, brushed my hair, tried to get me to put in my contacts, but I refused. They tried to get me to talk. Apparently, Louise had gone into his room, because that's where I had left the note. 
                          
I brushed past her, and out onto the street. I started walking. I can't believe they would betray me like that. I can't believe they would show a stranger Dan's last words to me. They didn't deserve him. No one did. Not even me. He was so kind, yet so broken. We should have helped him. But we were blind. Everyone was. 
                          
Especially me.
                          
It started to rain. And I started to run.
                          
I felt like I was being chased by all the good memories I didn't deserve with Dan. All of our videos. All our animes. All our bantering and good natured arguments. All our anniversaries, of living together, of meeting each other. All the subscriber counts climbing higher and higher. All the Christmases and birthdays and Spooky weeks. All the good times. Even the bad. I didn't deserve any of them. I didn't deserve him.
                          
I lost track of how far I ran. Or for how long. I was numb to the cold and the pain in my legs. I was numb to the fear of getting lost and the regret of running into a countless number of people and not saying a thing. The world was fading away into a grey mist. Fogging the edge of my vision, pulling at me.
                          
I tripped, and fell hard to the soggy ground. I scrapped cuts on the palms of my hands, and ripped holes in the knees of my jeans. I fell the rest of the way instead of getting up, curling into a ball against the wall behind me. I can't believe even my friends, the only ones who I could turn to in this time of need I had, would turn around and hurt me like that. I can't trust anyone, because no one understood.
                          
I was alone.
                          
I was truly, utterly, painfully alone.
                          
"Phillip Micheal Lester you get in this cab this instant or so help me, I will drag you in myself!" came a shout from the street. I looked up. Louise had the door of a taxi open and was looking to me. The rain fell hard, wind ripping at the trees and whistling through buildings. There was no one out. It was dark.
                          
I got up. My knees shook. My legs felt weak. I stepped into the cab and collapsed in a seat.
                          
"You had us worried sick, you twat. What the hell is wrong with you?"
                          
I stayed silent.