12:03 | A Phanfic

Only half of the dried blood on my chest has been cleaned off. Never the less, I stand up and slowly wander out to the hallway without my shirt.

I feel bad for being aggressive to Phil, because he might not have even done anything. But, then again, he might have.

"Phil..." I quietly call. No answer. I check the living room, the kitchen, his bedroom... There's no sign of him.

My heart aches. I feel some slight affection towards him, like I care about him. But, I can't trust him. Not yet. I knew staying at a strangers house was a bad idea, but he seemed so perfect. He is perfect. We have so much in common - even the little things.

Slowly wandering down the hallway, I notice something strange. It takes me a few seconds to realise, but it's very apparent to me. I walk closer.

It's the door - that black door Phil kept me away from. However, it's not like I saw it yesterday. This time it's open a few centimetres. I inch closer to the door.

I quietly gulp. I peek through the slight gap but I can't see anything. There's no sources of light on the other side of the door.

"Phil?" I call, hoping he'd answer.

Suddenly I feel something cover my mouth. I squirm, trying to pull myself away. I see myself being dragged into the darkness on the other side of the door. I try to scream but it's no use. My legs are dragging along the floor, hitting each stair on the way down - I'm assuming it's a basement. I try my best to push away, until I feel a cloth being pulled over my mouth and nose. I feel drowsy, and I soon lose consciousness.

It's an hour before I wake up. I'm alone in a room, sitting on the cold, hard floor. My hands and feet are tied together with tape, and my mouth is covered. I try to scream but I can only make out a muffled moan. There's still dried blood on my chest, and I'm still shirtless.

I hear the door handle turning. Fear is flooding my veins as the door slowly opens.

This is my own fault. I wanted to know what was on the other side of the black door, and now I'm locked in here. My eyes begin to water and streams of sweat begin to drip from my face.

I hear the creaking of the floorboards as they step down the stairs, locking the door behind them.

It's Phil.

I begin to wriggle myself across the floor. I don't get very far, but it was worth a shot.

Phil locks his eyes with mine - not for a second breaking eye contact. He approaches me and kneels down to my level.

"Dan." He whispers, looking very anxious.

I try to wriggle away again.

"Dan, just listen to me. I'm trying to help-"

The door creaks open again, this time another man behind storming down the stairs, slamming the door behind him. He locks it quickly. Phil immediately stands up and appears a lot more confident.

"Ah, good boy Phil." The man smirks.

Phil looks at me with fear, as I look at him with anger. I can't do anything, I can barely even pull myself along the ground, but I'm furious. What is he fucking doing to me? Is he trying to plot my death? Why would he want to hurt me - I just fucking met him.

This man is dressed in all black, from the long coat to the leather shoes. His eyes are concealed by a pair of squared shades, but his facial expression appears neutral. His hair is a light shade of brown and looks bulletproof due to the extreme amount of hair gel.

Phil is standing behind him, still looking mortified. He looks as if he's about to break down in tears.

"Your name's Dan Howell, yes?" He stands over me.

I look up at him slowly.

"Answer my fucking question." He yells.

The fear is flowing even faster. I try to bring myself to nod but I can't even think.

He grabs my shoulder and pulls me to my feet - it hurts so bad, as it's the shoulder with the huge cut. My eyes flood with water again, but this time forcing a tear to roll down my cheek.

Phil quickly looks away.

"Dan Howell, is that your fucking name?" The man asks again.

I quickly nod.

He slowly pulls the tape from my mouth so I can actually talk. As soon as he does this, he kicks my knee making me fall back to the floor. I let out a loud cry.

Phil quickly interferes, "don't hurt him!"

"Excuse me?" Phil begins shaking due to the loud voice screeching at him.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, but I want to be the one who hurts him. I just feel like I got him, so I have the pleasure." He tries to fight every streak of fear in his tone to sound confident.

The man nods. "Hit him."

"Now?" Phil gulps.

"For fuck sake Phil, yes."

Phil slowly walks up to me and kneels down.

"Phil... Please..." I whimper.

His eyes fill with tears, and he bursts out into a loud sob. He buries his face into my bloodied chest, sobbing louder and louder. I quickly bury my head into his shoulder. My hands are still tied behind my back, but right now I want to wrap my arms around him and hug him tight. I don't feel betrayed at all, for some reason. He obviously set me up for something, but I don't think he did it willingly - or I hope he didn't.

"Phil..." My voice trembles as Phil is thrown to the other side of the room. He begins to get several beatings, resulting in him letting out several screams. I try to shout, but I'm ignored. I begin to sob too. I hate this. I hate everything. I can't stand to watch him being hurt - it's breaking my fucking heart.