I don't know what to call it, though. warning: It's kind of depressing. Here's the beginning:
I don't know why I was sent to him. I doctor physical wounds, not mental ones. I sat at my desk, reading his file. Attempted suicide...self-inflicted wounds...this wasn't my department. It was true I had a minor in psychology, but I wasn't a therapist.
Perhaps fate had whispered in my ear.
I rubbed my eyes. I was exhausted. I'd try my luck on this boy tomorrow.
I walked into the padded room where the boy was curled in a corner. I closed the door and sat down on the floor next to him.
“go away,” he told me. Tears threatened to spill from his azure eyes. “I don't need a shrink. Unless you're here to give me my knife back, go away.”
“No,” I agreed. “You don't need a shrink. You need a friend.”
he snorted. “'friend'? What's a 'friend'? Give me my knife or go away.”
I held out the knife I had brought with me, but when he reached for it I pulled it away. “Brian,” I said sternly, gazing into his deep blue eyes almost hidden by light-brown hair. “Life is not a bad thing. Yes, life sucks sometimes, but you get through it, and you survive. And then you die. Sometimes you die before you should, and it's tragic, but you don't make it harder for yourself. You don't do this.”
“No,” he sobbed, shaking his head. “no...” tears left clean tracks on his dirty face.
“i'll give you the knife,” I promised him, my voice shaking. “but only if you promise you won't kill yourself, and you tell me what happened. I'll do my best to get you out of here. You can't heal here.”
Brian nodded, biting his trembling lip. “say it,” I pressed him. “say the words. Say that you won't commit suicide.”
he looked up at me with those wet puppy eyes. The ones that were scared. “I-i promise.” he whispered. “I won't kill myself. Not for a week, at least.”
I hugged him, and closed my eyes because I felt tears coming on. “good. Good, Brian...” I did the strangest thing. I don't know why I did it, but I did. “This was a triumph,” I whispered. “I'm making a note here: huge success. It's hard to overstate my satisfaction....” as I sang I could have sworn that Brian was lip-singing the same song, but I wasn't sure. I sang until I reached the last verse. It wasn't the best line to say in front of someone who was suicidal. So I changed the words. “look at me still talking, when there's science to do. When I look out there it makes me wish I was you-”
“those aren't the words,” Brian whispered, his voice muffled from the fact that his face was buried in my shirt. “it's 'makes me glad I’m not you', not 'makes me wish I was you'.”
I smiled slightly. “I know.” I stood up, and Brian looked at me startled. “Where are you going?” he asked.
“To get you out of here.”
not finished yet. hope you like it!
