Phan: Bully Me [Part 14]

Slamming the door shut behind him, his mother looked up with raised eyebrows as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made her way over to him as he hurried up the stairs.
"Phil? Phil, honey, are you alright?"
"Fine mum!" he replied as he ran to his room and closed the door, his mother calling after him with slight worry in her voice, "Ok... I'm going to work now though, ok? Won't be back until morning, I'll see you then. Love you!"
"Love you too!" he called back and soon heard the front door slam shut. He rushed into his bathroom and ran the shower, stripping quickly and climbing in.
If he was going to crash Dan's date he had to look presentable for the occasion.

"I heard you were in a fight today," the rough voice of his father was like sandpaper to Phil and he turned from his beeline track to return to his bedroom to face his father at the kitchen table. He stared at him blankly.
The old man moved slightly in his seat, the wood creaking beneath his weight as a grunt left his lips. He brought the whiskey glass to his lips and swallowed greedily before grabbing the bottle and pouring more into the glass, the ice cubes bobbing in the brown liquid.
"This true?" he asked and Phil gave a small nod and his father nodded in return, looking mildly impressed for a moment as he murmured, "Didn't think you had it in ya."
He took another swig of his beverage before continuing.
"Apparently the boys started the fight."
Phil nodded.
The old man's eyes grew dark, the grey clouding over like a storm at sea, "Apparently it's 'cause you're a puff."
Phil froze, terror flickering in his eyes for a moment before he composed himself, returning the cold stare of his father with expressionless blue eyes that were the colour of ice daggers.
"Your silence tells me it's true," he spoke without emotion in his rough voice, finishing his drink and filling the glass again, looking away from his thirteen year old son as he thought.
Phil broke the silence after a while, "Dad, it isn't that bad."
It happened so suddenly that Phil hardly had time to react; his father slammed the glass down upon the wooden table, alcohol spilling from the sides as he rushed over and grabbed Phil by the scruff of his hoodie, lifting him up and pinning him to the wall of the tiled kitchen. Phil grunted with the impact and closed his eyes as the rancid smell of his father's breath came close, his horrible face looming before him.
"Do not tell me that being a fag isn't bad," he growled, making Phil squirm, his feet reaching for the floor but only brushing it as his father came closer to him still, the smell of alcohol, nicotine and other rancid odours engulfing him, suffocating him as his eyes burned with tears and his lungs screamed for fresh oxygen.
"You fucking disgust me, you worthless piece of shit," he emphasised the words that stung the most and Phil wished to be held in his mother's arms and cry; he wished the pain would go away as a heavy fist landed upon his jaw and made him spit blood.
"Fucking faggot," he snarled as a fist connected with his stomach and made him curl up slightly as he whimpered, holding back the tears. His father dropped him to the floor, his body crumbling upon landing as the old man kicked at his weak frame.
"Dad, stop!" he cried, peering up at the man who suddenly hated him, the man who was meant to love him but instead was beating him, wishing he was dead. He begged with his eyes for him to stop but he only hit harder.
The sound of the door opening and slamming shut and the cheerful cry of Phil's mother was heard, "Darlings, I'm home!"
"Mum!" Phil cried before a fist crashed into his jaw and made him scream with pain before silencing him.
Upon hearing the cry, his mother ran into the kitchen and gasped with horror at the sight, her hands flying to her face as she covered her mouth and her eyes widened, tears brimming in their blueness.
"What are you doing!?" she screamed and ran to her son, crouching beside him and bundling his battered body up in her protective arms. She looked up to her husband with shock and anger as she screamed the question again.
He said nothing as Phil whispered, "I'm gay," and his mother looked down to him again, stroking his face with her soft hands as the tears spilled and fell upon his bruising cheeks.
She stood, still holding her baby boy in her arms as she glared to the man she once loved and growled with anger, "You disgust me, you vile, vile man!"
"He's GAY!" he roared, his face contorting with anger and hatred as he stepped closer to his wife who stepped back, distancing herself from the man she married.
"That gives you no right to beat your son," she spat with venom and she glared at him before rushing up the stairs, lying Phil upon his bed as she grabbed suitcases and bags, filling them with his and hers possessions as Phil watched confused.
"What are you doing mum?" he croaked out, watching through half lidded eyes; he felt tired, wanted to sleep but fought to stay awake, make sure his mum was ok.
"We're going sweetie," she replied while she packed hurriedly, shoving anything and everything into the bags, "We're going to stay with my mum, your grandma, ok?"
He nodded and his eyes drifted shut for a moment as his mother murmured, "That's it honey, sleep, just sleep."

When he woke, it was dark outside and his body jerked against the seatbelt as they passed over speed bumps, the orange hue of streetlights blinding him when they drove past. He squinted his eyes into the darkness and rubbed at his tired eyes.
"Mum?" he murmured and he heard his mother from the front seat hush him before whispering, "Go back to sleep sweetie; almost there."
He did not object as he fell back to sleep and dreamed of better things.

The water was warm and he opened his eyes slowly. He hated his memories; they were more like real life nightmares that he could never dream away.
Stepping out of the shower and turning off the tap, he dried himself quickly and went to go get dressed, picking his black, skinny jeans and red shirt, pulling them all on before throwing on his black hoodie and worn converse. He straightened his hair quickly, allowing the dark locks to fall before his eyes as he grabbed his phone and iPod, making his way down the stairs and out of the house and into the darkness of the impending night.
He was not going to let Dan slip away from him like he had with Charlie.