"You're awake."
"What do you mean I'm awake?" Connor rasped.
"We found you three days ago in critical condition. You've been in a coma for a couple days. We weren't sure if you were going to make it," a woman in scrubs told him.
"I'm your nurse, Heidi. Dr. Shannon and I stitched up your wounds." Connor glanced over to his left arm. It was covered in white gauze. Damn. There was no way this was the afterlife.
She turned and pulled a pamphlet off of a table next to Connor's bed. "I think you should have this."
Connor read the cover. "How To Cope With Depression." Really? This nurse thought a pamphlet could help him. Connor's face must have given away his reaction.
"I know, I know. It's kind of kitschy, but there's some good information in there," the nurse said. Connor nodded. Maybe if he showed this to his parents, they would help him.
"We couldn't find any identification on you, so we weren't able to figure out who you are or who to call to let them know you were hospitalized. Do you want to tell me your name, hon?" Heidi asked.
"Connor Murphy. My parents are Larry and Cynthia Murphy," Connor whispered. His throat was sore.
"Thank you, Connor. I'll call your parents and let them know you're here. You'll be cleared to leave in 24 hours," Heidi said. She started typing information into the computer, her nails clicking against the computer keys. She then dialed a number into a phone next to the computer.
"Hi, Mrs. Murphy. This is Heidi Hansen. I'm a nurse at Regional Hospital. We have Connor Murphy here. He's just woken up from a trauma-induced coma. We found him at a nearby park with what appeared to be self-inflicted wounds on his arm in critical condition. Fortunately, he has made a full recovery and will be cleared to leave after a twenty-four-hour watch," Heidi said into the phone. Heidi gave Cynthia instructions on all that she needed to do to check her son out of the hospital before hanging up.
"Good news! Your mom will be ready to pick you up after your watch," Heidi said cheerily. Connor turned the pamphlet over in his good hand. He picked at the black nail polish coating his fingernails. He started when Heidi's phone rang.
"Excuse me for just a second. I think that's my son," she said before walking out the room.
Connor looked at the boring room around him. He failed. He failed at the simplest of tasks. He shouldn't have sat in such a public spot. It was nearly certain someone would call an ambulance if they saw an unconscious boy bleeding out over the park grass.
He sighed to himself. He knew that now at least his parents would worry about him enough to see that maybe he needed some help. If they didn't, Connor would at least know that he was on his own with life. Nobody would be there for him in his times of need, no matter how much he cried out.
Connor's vitals stayed steady overnight, so he was released to his mother. He still had Heidi's pamphlet in his pocket. Cynthia didn't say anything as she and Connor walked to the white SUV. She worried silently instead, unsure of what to say to her son who had just tried to commit suicide.
They rode home in silence, Connor waiting for Cynthia to say something and Cynthia waiting for Connor to say something. Neither of them knew what to do about the situation. They arrived home, and still not a word was said.
Connor strode up to his room, hoping that the rest of his family would just look the other way. Unsurprisingly, Larry didn't even look up from his computer as Connor passed him and Zoe stayed on her phone as Connor passed her room to reach his own. No one cared that he had just tried to kill himself. It was almost like it was some sort of normal daily activity for Connor to slip into a coma!
He threw himself on his bed, burying his face in the pillows. He dug the pamphlet out of his back pocket and opened it. He knew his parents would never help him, so he figured he would have to take measures back into his own hands if he ever wanted to be okay.
Stay In Touch
Sure. That'd work. And monkeys could fly out of Connor's butt. Connor didn't have anyone to talk to. His family didn't care about him and everyone at school thought he was a freak.
He set the pamphlet on his side table and turned off the light switch on his bedside lamp. He just laid on his bed in the quasi-darkness of his room. It was only noon, but Connor was already tired. He had slept for three days! He shouldn't feel this tired, but he did.
"Larry, I think it's time that we get Connor some help," he heard Cynthia say through the floorboards of his room.
"It's just a phase. He'll get over it, I assure you. We would be blowing money for nothing. Plus, I already spent $20,000 on that yoga retreat," Larry said calmly.
"He tried to kill himself! How is that a phase?" Cynthia hissed.
"He's just following some sort of fad. I read something on CNN about suicide rising after some stupid show because it glamorized suicide," Larry said.
"I don't think suicide is a fad. He needs--"
"He needs to get over himself. Look, we'll have a talk with him. We'll tell him that we're here for him and that he can talk to us. We can solve this ourselves, Cynthia. We don't need to spend money on a therapist," he said.
"Alright. If you say so," Cynthia said, resigned.
Connor squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself not to cry. There he had it. His parents wouldn't help him. He would be all alone with this beast inside him. He figured he would at least find a whip to help him tame it.
Connor's solution was to completely close himself off from the world. He didn't care about anything after that day. He didn't care about school anymore. He didn't even know the names of the kids who bullied him constantly. He couldn't control his anger still, but he could at least turn the kids who bullied him from people into nameless, faceless demons.
He also started to smoke pot. He liked the way it made his world become one numb blur. He didn't have to think about his sister or his parents or his grades when he was high. He could just completely let go.
And it kept him alive for a few years.
