Suicide Hotline

Chapter 4

I throw my knapsack onto my bed in a flustered heap. I let out a groan as papers from class come sprawling out on to the comforter making a mess I really don't feel like cleaning. Today hasn't exactly been the easiest.

The last call I took yesterday haunted me during school, making me pay zero attention to the lesson which in turn, I got a lot of homework. Normally, the calls I take don't follow me home. They stay in a department of my brain I label, 'Problems.' By keeping them there, I only allow myself to visit them at work or alone in my room because I know that if I start to think about them, I will zone out and not stop thinking about it. Like today.

The words the girl spoke to me would echo in the back of my head, slowly driving me insane. It's not that I don't want to think about it, it's just that I can't afford to. I'm seventeen now and that means that college is at the end of May, and my birthday. When I turn eighteen, I will be able to leave this place and never look back.

But do I really want to? Leaving these girls and Suzanna behind would only take a part of me away. They're my family and families are supposed to stand by each other, I don't think I could leave the place for Suzanna to run all by herself. Since I was eleven I've been her right hand man. Besides, the idea of college is a bit crazy. I live in a girl's home for goodness sake. We are not in any way able to produce the money it takes to put someone through college; let alone eight. The probability of even getting into one is not at its highest either; scholarships are hard to come by around here.

That's why I need to be able to focus on school work rather than whispers from people telling me I should be happy. I mean, come on. I am happy, for the most part but then again, isn't everybody like that? I'm certain everyone has those days where nothing goes right but the only difference I can see is how they deal with it. Most people take a jog or listen to music to maybe get a chance of escaping themselves for a little while.

Not me. Young and foolish, I would take a blade to my wrist. I thought that it would take away the pain and make me happy for just a second. I was so wrong. It only made me more depressed. The scars would take so long to fade and even when they would finally start to lighten, the need to cut once again would have me reaching for the razor.

That's probably the biggest event leading up to my call to the hotline. When I was really young, like nine or ten, it was easier to control. I would run to my room and scream into a pillow. But, eventually the pillow became pills and razors. The girl wrapped up in her own anger and pain finally found a release; unfortunately it was the worst escape route possible.

I remember coming home each day from school and running straight for the bathroom. I would stare at my reflection picking out every flaw i saw which of course meant other people could see them as well. From my hair that never seemed to fall right to how one of my arms is bit longer than the other, I was certain people made snide comments behind my back. I wanted to change, believe me I did, but the little voice in my head would always chide me to make one more cut or when there were too many cuts, to take one more pill. I was literally ruining myself from the inside out.

That's how Leah found me, a mess of a bloodied wrist and a bottle of half empty pills lying beside me as I sat up against the sink unconscious. I don't remember what happened until I woke up the next morning in the hospital. I knew I had finally beaten myself; I had finally listened to the demons.

I cried as Suzanna held me tight and told me that I need to talk to her, or Leah. She said, and I never will forget this, "Please, never scare me like that; you're my daughter (in a sense of course). I love you and so do these girls," She gestured around the room to which I had not noticed was filled with the girls from the home. They all had tears in their eyes and the smallest ones had little drawings and stuffed animals in their arms, smiling at me indicating they had no idea what really happened to me. Some of the older girls smiled at me while others looked heartbroken. Leah and I connected eyes and silently I thanked her, she found me and saved my life. Suzanna continued speaking as more tears were shed from her eyes, "We're your family; we won't let you do this to yourself again."

I shook my head of the memory wiping away stray tears I had not felt falling. Ever since that day, Suzanna and the girls have stayed true to their word. They listen when I'm willing to talk and help me when they see that things are getting bad again.

"It's happening again, isn't it?" A voice rings out from the bed across from mine. Startled I jump, for not seeing her there earlier.

I sigh and answer, "It's not as bad. I've just been thinking a lot lately." Leah hops off of her bed and sits down next to me on the floor. I guess I sank down here during my little memory fest.

"Tell me about it." She orders politely, she knows to be hesitant but firm with me.

"This girl called the hotline yesterday. I felt like I connected with her which helped me be able to stop her from doing it. Before she hung up, she told me that if she was going to be happy, then so am I. She twisted my advice of love and hope and told me that I need that as well."

Leah started thinking for a minute before replying, "I think she is right. Everyone can see that you aren't really happy, that you just act like you are. Sure, you have fun drawing and you're really talented but if you look really closely at them, you can see your emotions. You aren't happy. Maybe you aren't happy with yourself or your life but I think that if you take a real good look around you, you will find happiness."

"Easier said than done." I mumble back.

Leah's arms wrap around me as she pulls me in for a hug, making me feel like a small child, "I know that but I'm positive you can. You just need to try." She ruffles me hair making me groan in protest.

"I am trying but it just seems like everything gets in my way. Like, if I do something good, something will happen to knock me down again. It's like I'm playing 'Shute's and Ladders' all by myself and the only option I get is to slide back to the beginning."

Leah began rubbing my back in comfort, "I know I don't completely understand how you feel but I'm trying to see this from your point of view. Honestly, I can't and that's bothering me. I feel like you keep things inside which prohibits me from being able to totally help."

"I'm trying to open up but it's not easy."

"Try. That's all I'm asking you to do. Trying is the first step and if you take that, maybe you will finally get a chance to climb back up the ladder." Her lips press onto the top of my head as she bids me goodbye to go do whatever downstairs.

I sit in contemplation before deciding to get up and work on my homework. Try. That's all I have to do. If I try, I may succeed but if I don't, I will fail. I think that's one of the things I fear most, failure.

***Author's Note***

So we finally know what Bree did to have to call the hotline. If you're confused, she called the hotline for help after her attempted suicide. Idk if that was clear or not but ya. Also, i changed it a bit so Leah is now two years younger than Bree. Bree is a senior which makes Leah a sophmore. Sorry if this confused you. If you have any questions, comment or message me.(: