Kyle's POV
I get to the hospital and tip the driver.
"Good luck, son," he says. I nod and dash out of the cab.
I burst into the hospital and head straight to the reception.
The lady peers at me through her glasses at me, a sagging, wet mess.
"How can I help you?" she asks politely.
"A girl... Depressed... Suicidal... I called the police... She might be... Gone..." I break down in tears.
I can't even talk.
I feel eyes burning into my back, some of sympathy, others just inquisitive.
"What was her name?" asked the receptionist kindly.
"Amy." I realise I didn't know her last name even though we had been talking for so long.
Her facial expression changes.
"She's in a critical condition," she says. "She jumped, and is just barely hanging in. You're a friend, right?"
"Yes," I reply immediately.
"Come with me." She takes my hand like I'm a child and leads me down endless sterile white corridors.
YOU ARE READING
melancholia ✔︎
Nouvellesall i need is a reason to live. a reason to keep living in this hell you call life. because melancholia is just too hard to control all alone.
