Human - phan

Thirty

What does it mean to be human? If you type those seven words into google you get the scientific, the philosophical and the pretentious. What separates us from the animals? Is being human different for people of different religions? Spirit, matter, soul, genetics – there are hundreds of different definitions. But as I carried Ellie Mansford through the swinging hospital doors at a sprint, I was clear of one thing: humanity is fragile. Sometimes we break in more ways than the animals and it is that twisted ability that makes us unique. Phil was running ahead, screaming for help. Knuckles was behind me supporting Ellie's legs. And Ellie was in the middle; clutching silently at the angry red mark from the noose she'd tied around her own neck.

I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not going to feed you some bullshit like 'in that moment I never felt more alive' or whatever. I wasn't thinking anything other than 'if you can get her through the doors before she stops breathing everything will be okay'. And it was, kind of. She didn't do any major damage – they treated her for shock, and then depression, and then anxiety. And then they moved her to a secure unit where she couldn't hurt herself any more. And as Phil, Knuckles, and I sat in the reception area with our heads in our hands, a nurse pushed a bundle of forms under our noses with a frown. They wanted to know where her family were and in that moment we knew – despite our best efforts – we had failed her.

Knuckles cried then. Openly and unashamedly into Phil's jacket as Phil tried to comfort him. I just awkwardly patted his back, watching the nurses surveying us uncomfortably from over the desk.

"It's okay," Phil whispered furiously. (We'd already been told off once for disturbing the patients sleeping on the ward.) "We can go visit her as soon as she's feeling better. We can get her out of there. We told them the truth, there's no way they'll let her Dad in there to see her – he's the reason she's there, the doctors would never allow it. It's gonna be okay. I swear. I don't care how long it takes, we're going to make it okay."

And after that we took Knuckles home because we couldn't think of anything else to do. We considered running after the minivan that had taken her away. Killing the driver and hijacking the car and driving off into the sunset. But that would have left us no better off than we started, and we'd already proven that was no good. The nurses told us to have faith in the healthcare system; that they knew what they were doing and it was the only way she was going to get better. But after all the stories we'd heard about those places - the antidepressants she'd been prescribed that listed 'Increased risk of suicide' under the side effects - how could we have faith in anything? All we had to go on was the dead grey of Ellie's zombie-fied eyes as she waved emotionlessly goodbye.

*

"It was all for nothing." Knuckles growled. "Fuck, she'd have probably been better off in a kid's home."

Phil sighed as the house shook for the hundredth time from the point of impact between Knuckles' fist and the wall.

"We've been through this. Maybe you're right, and maybe you're not. Maybe if she'd been in a home no one would have been there to check up on her when she tried to kill herself. Maybe she would have been fine, but we don't know and it's too late now to change the past. What matters now is trying to see her as soon as possible so we can find out if we're going to need to break her out of there or not. What's passed is past."

"Fuck!" Knuckles yelled, again, punching the wall.

While Phil spoke soothingly, I sat in a corner with my knees hugged to my chest. Knuckles had not been impressed when I'd shown up at his door two weeks earlier hiding behind Phil's broad shoulders, but he'd grudgingly accepted my presence. We'd worked hard for two weeks – slipping out at every opportunity to visit her and try and calm her out of hysterics or raise her from a lifeless slump. But she'd been getting progressively worse, and all our efforts were in vain. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. I wasn't ready to give up just yet. I'd come back into this world to do something right and for once I didn't want to escape. I wanted to break her out of whatever asylum they'd locked her in and take her to somewhere she'd be safe, no matter what the cost. This sense of determination was new to me. Normally I would have shied away from the prospect of anything dangerous or illegal, yet here I was meticulously planning a break in and out from some nameless building in the South.