The next morning, I called Tord.
"What's up?" He asked.
"Murph relapsed" I told him bluntly. There was silence on the other end of the phone.
"Tord?"
"We need to go to the hospital right away. I'll be there in ten" He hung up. I got off the sofa. I hadn't slept since I got the call so I made coffee. Tord knocked on the door ten minutes later. He was true to his word. I pulled on some jeans and a hoodie and we left.
Dr Moss was waiting for us in the reception. He smiled when he saw us.
"Come this way boys" he lead us down a corridor. Room 1996. The door opened and Murph was lying in is bed. He had a clunky looking device around his ankle and I could only assume it was a tracker. I smiled at him and the doctor left us to it.
"Why Murph?" I said without thinking.
"You wanna know why? I feel stupid. I feel weak. I thought maybe if I could just end it then I wouldn't have to put up with being a burden, a disappointment" He said, emotionless.
"I love you, we both do. Why would you do this?"
"Go on, call me selfish. I dare you" He looked at me and just stared. I was trying to fight back tears but it wasn't working.
"Go on Dan" I started to cry, biting my tongue.
"Murph stop" Tord told him. He looked away. I wiped the tears from my eyes. I left the room, unable to see him for a second longer.
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.
