The Suicide Hotline

Chapter Two

I spent quite some time in the hospital. I eventually got used to the boring, bleach colored walls and the bland, tasteless hospital food. My mom was still hurting, but the pain and sadness did not stop her from being a helicopter mom (times two).

I had a great deal of physical injuries. My legs were useless. Some bones in each leg shattered. I had broken two ribs. I had some hip injuries. I would be on bed-rest for who knows.

They did what they could for my physical injuries. I was still in a shitload of pain. However the pain was not the major problem. In fact another factor has started tormenting me.

Aside from the physical injuries, the doctors wanted to help with my mental health. I assume they brought in a mental health specialist and they started to ask me all sorts of questions about my life and what I was thinking before I jumped off the bridge.

I tried to cooperate for my mothers sake, but I just did not want to be here and I especially did not want to be answering the questions. I felt like they were intruding and being too nosy. I even complained to my mom about it and she said I brought this on myself.

Memories. They started to come back. Starting on the second night of me being in the hospital, I had a reoccurring nightmare that started with me standing of the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge and jumping off. The image of me standing on the edge, with my arms out and eyes closed, as I prepared myself for the fall.

These memories kept me up all night. My mind was telling me, I could've jumped in a different way and I wouldn't be here and I wouldn't be on earth, living in pain.

Because of these nightmares and other things sleeping seemed impossible to me. I was emotional all the time, I was tired and weak, and I couldn't stand being stuck in the hospital room for this long, but somehow I made it. Two weeks later I was released from the hospital. I couldn't return to school, so maybe I could avoid that program.