Break Me (Phan)

Daniel Howell
Wednesday 28th October

Phil had fallen asleep early in the evening. He came back from work at around half five and we finished watching films at around eight, him drifting off not long after. I laid there, on the bed next to him, my ears ringing in the silence. The sky was already dark as the sun had drawn itself away and continued to do so earlier each night throughout the winter season. I was completely alone with my mind.

Steven was either really clever, when he wasn't passed out, or he conspired his plans in the heat of his malice. It doesn't take the average Joe to emotionally manipulate someone, you have to have some wits about you. His drunkenness worsened throughout the years: for the first four he was malicious in every way possible. He'd taught me that to be a son was to be treated like a servant: I should wash his clothes, bathe him, clean up after him and his special guests. Even the simple things like fetching him his bottle of wine or bringing him food agitated me because I knew perfectly well he could perform the tasks himself. For the following four years he sunk into aggressiveness. He no longer needed me, nor wanted me around. These were the years I learnt to creep around the house like every noise was a death sentence, because if I was caught, I certainly would want to die. The last three years he'd reached the brink of nonfunctioning. He wasn't effective the last eight years, but I believed he had the ability to. Now I'm not sure if he chose to live in ignorance or if the alcohol poisoning finally began to rot his brain. I wonder what his inheritance will go be once he finally gets tipped over the edge.

I was seven when he first sexually assaulted me. It was confusing and he hadn't yet lost his title as "Dad" because I still had memories of him caring for me. Five months after Mum had left and he wandered into my bedroom when I was changing, and for the last time, I was changing by stripping down entirely to naked before putting on a fresh set of clothes. He laughed, mocking my appearance before calling me to lie down so he could do something, in his words, or close enough, "me and my friends sometimes do this and it feels nice". He proceeded to finger me until I came for the first time.

He gave me access to his computer when I was nine years old and I was left with a porn addiction for seven years. He was left with viruses he had to pay to remove.

I began stealing from shops when he wouldn't feed me, claiming he had better things to spend his money on than me. I was about eight, beginning with stealing fruit from baskets, and leaving with my most recent phone; stolen at age seventeen. I was always the skinny kid at school, and when I heard of this reputation I ate even less because it was something I could control. I fainted at school after not eating for eight days, and yet still no adult reached out to me.

Where was Phil for all these years? If he attended the same school as me, would he have noticed and picked me out from the crowd, or would he have been like everyone else I dealt with in my daily life? I sighed, truly believing he'd have helped me.

I wasn't quite sure what I could do to shut my thoughts up. I couldn't play the keyboard because waking Phil up wasn't a possibility in my mind. Therefore, I began turning to more destructive methods of coping that I'd learnt throughout my lifetime. I considered searching the bathroom for something to break skin, but realised that could cause the Lesters disrupt if they found me on the floor. I wasn't ever one to self-harm beyond solitude and sex. I coped by mutilating my body in ways that weren't visible.

I scoffed at myself, sliding off of the bed and changing into a pair of my old clothes, picking my phone up from Phil's bedside table and creaking the door open. I couldn't be here anymore, not knowing I could damage Phil with my pain. I'd already made the decision I was heading to Dad's, it was just about sneaking out of this suffocating building without being caught.

I trod down the stairs, not a single creak echoing in the aging house. I noticed the living room light was still on, so I slipped past it, fumbling with the lock on the front door.

A door handle creaked behind me, followed by the sounds of someone walking. I gasped slightly, pursing my lips as I looked downwards, taking my chances that I wouldn't be seen if I kept still. A voice rang out behind me, "Dan?" John asked.

I hummed, turning around as though I was innocent, "Yeah?"

"Where are you off to, it's dark?"

"I'm just getting fresh air." I lied.

He gave me a look and I begged him in my mind he wouldn't pester me further. He approached me, peeling my jacket off of my shoulders and throwing it over his arm. He held a hand on my back and led me into the front room. I was confused, the puzzled look displayed on my face. Phil's dad didn't express anything bizarre, instead offering politely, "Hot chocolate?" I shook my head, "I'll get you one anyway, you haven't tried mine." he dissappeared through the door and Kath appeared a second later.

She smiled sympathetically, sitting down on the sofa and pulling me with her, holding me against her body in a hug, "Where's Phil?"

"He's asleep." I spoke truthfully.

"Where were you heading?"

"Fresh air." I spoke my rehearsed lines.

"Dan." she warned, "I care for you too much to let you lie."

I glanced away from her, not offering her the truth. She ran her fingers through my hair like Phil would do, and the tears began to fall. John passed me the mug of chocolate, and I took it, enjoying the burning sensation against my skin. I sobbed gently, "I was going home."

"Why?" she interrogated. I thought she might tell me this was my home, and the fact that she didn't told me she was approaching this from a trained, professional perspective.

I burrowed my face into a cushion, "I don't like the evenings." I admitted, "They've never been easy. Everything comes flowing in whether I'm alone or not." I rubbed my red palms, tingling red from the heat. I believe Mrs Lester noticed this as she took the mug and placed it on a coaster.

"Dan?"

"Mm?"

"I want to be honest with you and tell you that we locked the front door with a key."

I wanted to feel mad, but instead I felt secure. I shook my head, "How did you know I was going to do this?"

"Because of the field I work in, but also because I know that face from personal experience. I saw you earlier this evening and noticed you were beginning to slip." she was rubbing a soothing hand in circles on my back, "Why didn't you wake Phil?"

"Because he looked peaceful."

"He wouldn't have been peaceful if he learnt you'd walked off." Kath truthfully told me.

"I know." I admitted, "But I can't suddenly ignore my brain when I've been instructed by it for a decade. It's told me what to do whether it was safe to do so or not. It kept me busy, and if I was busy either being creative or destroying myself, I wasn't thinking about the present."

"You're safe with us, Dan. The only danger is you wanting to run away from home in the middle of the night," she chuckled and I smiled, "Let's watch a film, how does that sound?"

I nodded. We were silent as John searched the CDs for something easy to watch. I turned towards Phil's mum, "Kath?" I began.

"Yes?"

"I was talking to Phil earlier on a whim, but how would you feel if I changed my last name to Lester? As in," I rushed, "Not marriage. I just...my last name it's...it's my father's, so..."

She hugged me, "You can have whatever name you like, but we'd all be proud to call you a Lester." I felt her smile against my shoulder before she pulled herself away, "I'll print off a deed poll at work for you and I'll sign it and get my friend to, too. Do you have any middle names, and what about your birth certificate and passport?"

I grinned widely, feeling relieved to be finally discarding the curse of my name, "Daniel James Howell." I said, "I have my birth certificate upstairs, that's the only legal document I could find."

"That's perfect," she happily spoke, "Daniel James Lester."

~