Page 10 of The Gift Of Life

“What happens now?” I ask.

“Under these circumstances, I’m going to place Harper on a psychiatric hold. She will be assessed and given all the right care and treatment she needs. It isn’t going to be easy.”

“Nothing ever is, Doctor. The only good thing is that she didn’t succeed.”

“And what we need to make sure is that she doesn’t get the urge to do this again.”

And there is that sucker punch. She could try this again and succeed. I need my Harper back.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle and I have no idea how to change that.

Chapter 5

Harper

When I woke up from my failed suicide attempt, I felt stupid. Ashamed. I was weak. I’ve hurt everyone who loves me, who has ever tried to help me, and I’ve let them all down.

I don’t know what hurts the most. The fact that I failed and have to face the music, or that I failed and now I have a second chance. Do I even want a second chance? Do I want to turn my wrongs into rights? I close my eyes in frustration. The bright, clinical, white room is depressing, and by the looks of things, I’m stuck here for the foreseeable because I don’t think my broken heart will ever be mended enough to live a normal life again.

“Harper...”

A knock sounds, and the door opens. In walks the doctor I’ve come to know as Andrew. He’s okay as far as doctors go, but I can’t be bothered with the questions and him trying to trip me up by asking the same questions in twenty different ways. I’m not stupid. My brain works. It’s just broken.

“How are you this morning?”

I shrug. Words are not coming easily right now. Maybe that’s a good thing because I have no idea what would come out of my mouth.

“Are you in any pain?”

“Not physical pain.”

The doctor pulls over a chair and sits beside my bed. He rests his elbows on his knees and concentrates on his hands. I’m glad he isn’t looking at me. I don’t want anyone to look at me right now.

“I know you’ve been through a lot. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I know what you’re feeling, but I am going to come day after day and try to help you deal with the pain that’s plaguing you so we can help you return to your life outside of these four walls.”

I stare at the doctor for a few seconds and sit forward.

“What if I don’t want any of that?”

The doctor finally meets my eye and sits back in his chair. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now, my job is to help you come to terms with your loss. To help you understand that, which in turn might just help you see a way forward. You’ve bottled up all this anger and emotion and it’s blinding you. It’s crippling you. But I can help. Your family wants to help.”

“I don’t want to see anyone.” I sit back, suddenly dejected.

“That’s okay. We can work with that. I have you here on a two-week hold. In those two weeks, it will be me, you, and these four walls, and when you’re ready, we can explore other therapies that may be beneficial to you that will aid your recovery.”

“Recovery,” I scoff. “You make it sound like I’m ill.”

“You don’t have to be physically ill to be in recovery. Mental health is very important, and when that takes a knock, it takes time to build it back up.”

“You need to want help, Doctor.”

He nods his agreement and holds my eye contact. “I can imagine you feel that way, that you don’t want help, but it’s my job to turn that around. Will you work with me for two weeks?”

I look up at a spot on the ceiling. “I don’t think I have any choice, do I?”

“You will always have a choice, Harper, but it won’t stop me from persevering and persuading you to fight on.” He stands up and returns his chair to the corner of the room. “I’ll be here at nine-thirty tomorrow morning. Have a restful day.”

I don’t acknowledge his words or his departure. I bang my hands down on the bed sheet and close my eyes. This is what I was trying to avoid. By taking my own life, I was taking the easy way out. I was avoiding therapy and treatment. I was avoiding the painful questions I knew would follow.

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