2
A few days after Murph's attempt, I got a call from the hospital.
"Is this Daniel Haggis?" the man on the other end asked.
"Yes, it is. Is this about Murph?" I replied.
"It is. Could you come along to the psychiatric ward?" My heart sunk. Murph had been in the hospital, hooked up to machines, monitoring his stomach activity and throat. As far as I knew, he was doing okay.
"Sure, what time?"
"Ten thirty please," He asked me. This was not how it was supposed to go."Okay, see you then," I said before putting the phone down. This whole thing was becoming unreal. I had called Tord later that morning and he had come back right away. We didn't talk much. The place would have been quiet if he wasn't playing around on his bass in the home studio we had created. I went and leaned on the doorframe and watched him. He stopped and look back at me when he sensed my presence.
"You okay?" He asked. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and to be honest, I looked the same. Mostly because that's how it has been."I need to go to the hospital to see what's going on with Murph in about an hour"
"Do you want me to come?" He put down his bass in between his legs.
"I don't mind..." I looked down. I was so tired. So drained.
"You don't look in the right state to drive. Go shower and have some food, we'll get going soon" Tord smiled at me.
It was difficult, being in the room that I found my best friend in. I stood by the door. Tord had cleaned up most of the vomit but the smell still lingered. I couldn't shower. I grabbed the dry shampoo and deodorant and then left. I put on one of Murph's hoodies and some jeans and met Tord by the door. He smiled at me and it turned sympathetic when he saw who's hoodie I was wearing."Ready to go?" I nodded.
YOU ARE READING
Too lost for therapy - The Wombats
Teen Fiction"He's gonna bring you down, Dan. I'm not gonna sugar-coat it, he's just gonna hold you back." TRIGGERS: This story contain strong mentions of suicide, self harm, PTSD and other mental illnesses throughout. Readers digression is advised.