After a while of trying I finally got the tape off of the IV, so I gently pulled the needle out, of course bleeding a little bit. Luckily that was the only IV I had.
I got the IV out of my hand but couldn’t seem to find an escape route. I knew I was supposed to stay here but I was determined to get out. People had escaped from hospitals before. I was setting about opening the window, because the security guar was standing outside of my door and I couldn’t get out through there.

I was trying to open my window, when the security guard, who didn’t seem to fit the stereotypical security guard part, walked in to check on me. He was tall, and fairly skinny, with some musle. He had red hair and green eyes. His nametag said “Seth.” I’m guessing he was in his twenties.

“Hey, what are you doing with the window?” He asked.

I backed up from the window and replied, “Nothing. It was just hot in here.” He nodded. It was neither hot nor cold in the room, so he was obviously unconvinced and automatically suspicious. That would have pissed me off in any other circumstance, but since I knew tht the guy’s suspicions were warranted, I didn’t feel so indignant. Which is lucky for him, considering my attitude problem.
“Well,” he started. “If you wanted the window opened you should have just asked.” He looked closer at my hand. “Hey,” he pointed at it, “Why did you take your IV out? You were planning on high tailing it out of here, weren’t you?” I looked down, not really having a smart comment for that, seeing as how he was completely correct. “Get back in bed, now.
I will have the nurse come and re-do your IV.” I crawled back under the sheets, re-thinking my escape plan while he called the nurse. I noticed that my mom hadn’t been coming to visit me yet, nor had she talked to me on the phone, nor has she relayed any messages to me through my dad or Brian or anything. I guess she just let Dad handle this whole ordeal. Too messy for her. She’s already dealt with her own suicide attempts, and then when Maddy killed herself so I think she has quit dealing with the issue entirely, no matter who in her family is dealing with the problem.
But if I called her and told her it was an accident, and that I really didn’t mean to do anything of the sort and wouldn’t do anything like it again but I was just too stressed out that night and overwhemed. Maybe if I called and told her all that, and maybe cried as well, she would be sympathetic toward what is going on. Maybe if I called and told her all that, she wouldn’t want me to stay here. Maybe if I told her that I don’t want to stay, and plead with her to come get me, and mention that I can’t miss anymore school, and I’ll do much better all-around from now on, and then after I can get back to the dorms I can carry out my plan. And this time, absolutely no squealing to Brian or anything. No one would know and I wouldn’t be waking up in a hospital, having my stomach pumped.
Why is this so? Because I’m going to jump off of the bridge. This time I’m going to skip the pills and the vodka. No use if you’re just going to fall anyway. If I can’t get myself to jump, I might make sure I have a bottle of sleeping pills on hand. No one is going to stop me this time.
I was sitting there, brooding and thinking through my plan in my bed when the nurse walked in, just as cheery and pleasant as she ever is. She was a plump, pleasant woman, kind of short, and she had beautiful black hair all tied up in a bun. “Oh, honey,” she said. She gently took my hand where I had removed my IV. Her hand was very gentle and soft and even though I was already at ease with this woman, I was calmed down a little bit from her touch. I’d known this woman only since I woke up from resting, and already her very presence calmed me down. “Oh, honey,” she repeated.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. What did you do that for, sweetie pie?” She said, shaking her head at me. I shrugged at her, not really willing to volunteer my motivation. She quickly cleaned up the area on my hand where the IV had been and the blood had dried on the skin. “Did you get scared, or did you get cold feet?”
I shrugged again in response to her questions. She wasn’t giving up on getting an answer from me quite that easily. “It’s a good place here. The psych wing is not that bad, honey. We’ll keep you safe while you heal and find hope. Don’t you worry.
It’s not a bad place to be. There’s no need to be ashamed of having to be here. You need to find hope and you need to heal and this is just the place to do so. Don’t be ashamed of it, and let us help you. I promise that you’ll start getting better faster if you do, and then you’ll be able to go home faster too. And I know you want that.”
I half-listened to what she was saying, because I was still trying to plan what would happen should I be released from here. I could usually tune everyone else out, however, and it wasn’t working so well with her. Her voice penetrated through my thoughts and into my mind so that I couldn’t very well ignore her. She prepared the needle for the saline solution and fixed it with the saline bag hung on the stand by my bed. She stuck the needle in my other hand and taped it into place. “Now don’t worry, dear, this will only be in place for the rest of the night.

I will take it out first thing in the morning, ok, hon?” I nodded an okay to her. “Is it ok if I call my mom?” I asked her. She nodded and pointed to the phone, which I had not yet noticed, on my bedside table. She left the room and I still noticed the security guard keeping watch outside my door. I picked up the phone and dialed my mom’s home phone number.
She picked up the phone on the second ring. “Hello? Gains residence, Linda speaking,” her sweet voice answered. “Hey, mom.”I swallowed in all of the things I wanted to say just upon hearing her voice. “Oh, Kyle.
It’s you. Honey! Are you okay? Is everything ok?” I could hear that she had started crying; the tearfulness was evident in her shakey voice.
“Yes, Mom. Everything’s fine. I just want to come home.” She sighed. “I know, hunny. I know.”
I realized that if I was going to convince her, I needed to try harder with her. Much harder. “Mom, it was an accident.” Suddenly she didn’t sound like she was crying anymore. “It didn’t look like an accident.” She replied sharply with no hint of tears in her voice. Ouch. That hurt.
“It was. Mom I swear to you it was.” She sighed again. “Well…” She trailed off. She did that often. “Mom, it’s not going to happen again.
I don’t need to be locked up. I was just stressed out. PLEASE come get me mom, please! It will not happen again and I promise that I’ll do well in school for the rest of the semester.”
“I don’t know, Kyle.” She sighed again. “Please, mom!”
She sighed one more time. “Fine, but you have to promise me that you’ll never do anything like this again. That scared me way too much. I can not lose you, Kyle. You’re my baby.” I sighed.
Those words went pretty deep and hit pretty hard. I remember being little, when she was home, and feeling fine, not too good and not too horrible, just baseline. It wasn’t great but it was good. It meant that she was doing okay and she wasn’t feeling dangerous, either way. We were thankful for the baseline days. I would walk up to her while she was sitting in the chair in the living room that she loved so much because it was so comfortable, and crawl up on her lap.
Her face would instantly brighten up and she’d say, “my baby!” and hug me to her. I always remember her being so warm. I always wanted to cuddle up close to her. She was what comfort meant to me when I was little. My mom told me that she’d make some phone calls and she would be there soon, and she hung up the phone, and called Jamie, who probably tried to talk her out of it because in his professional opinion I need to stay and be locked up in the looney bin. Maybe mom actually undertsands.
Maybe she’s coming to get me now because she’s been there as well. We had to lock her up when we were growing up. She attempted suicide several times. She was locked up for a while. She quickly came to the hospital, and I noticed her and Jamie standing outside my hospital room door, talking.
She was using her hand motions, which means she was upset with him. She always does that when she’s upset. He was standing there like an oak tree who couldn’t be moved, his arms crossed, looking at my mom, not angry with her, but not willing to give up on his stance on the matter either. They both entered the room. “Kyle, are you sure you want to go home today?” I nodded.
“Absolutely.” Mom mom crossed her arms, standing next to Jamie. He continued the questioning. “Do you have any thoughts of suicide?” I shook my head. “No,” I lied.
He sat down in the chair. I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn’t exactly buying it but it didn’t seem like he had the choice. I knew that he could only do anything if my dad had been the one to come pick me up, and even then only if he knew anything. “Will you be safe if I let you go home, Kyle?” I replied to him without giving him a second thought. “Absolutely.” Another white lie.
I was surely not going to be “safe” in any sense, unless by safe Jamie meant jumping off of a bridge into traffic. And there’s nothing he could do about it. He or anybody else, including my mom or dad, not that my dad would actually do anything about it except for maybe yell and throw a few punches, maybe a kick. Brian, however would. I needed to find a way to avoid Brian.
Mom had probobaly already notified him that I was coming home, since my mom and Brian are so close, and have been ever since their college days, since my mom had had me when she was so young. They still talk a lot. Jamie and my mom were talking about technical things and I still was only half listening. Stuff like don’t let him close the bedroom door, ask him how he’s feeling regularly, watch for sudden changes in personality and mood, lock up all sharps including shaving razors and kitchen knives, and lock up all of the medications. He also recommended that she not let me go back to the dorms where I would be alone. He told her not to let me drive a car as well, as it is really just a big weapon to a potentially suicidal person.
These were all just technicalities because these are all things my mom could have guessed. Jamie explained to me that he was releasing my into my mom’s custody AMA, which stands for Against Medical Advice. He could see no medical reason why I should be released. He did not believe that, despite what I had told him, I would be safe at home or in the college dorms. But since my mom, for the time being, has legal custody of me and has the official say in the matter, has demanded that I be released into her custody immediately, he is obligated to release me to her custody as per her demand. I smiled and nodded at him, all the while plotting and thinking and scheming about how to get out of this life, this situation I had found myself in since, well, forever. Since I was a little kid, at least , or as far back as I could remember.
The hospital released me and my mom and I walked out of it side by side. When we got outside, she put her hand on my shoulder. The crickets were chirping and it was twilight outside. Whatever stars had started to come out into the sky were well camoflauged by the city lights and the hospital lights. The breeze was faint and beautiful. I took it all in like I was taking in a beautiful woman’s physique for the first time.
This was the last time I would see these beautiful things, it would seem. There was no other way to go about it and there was certainly no other answer. Unless, that, is the after life would have something different planned for me, which wasn’t up to me to decide. The only thing that was up to me was how and when to arrive there. I didn’t know if it would be what I had been grown up knowing and taught, given being raised in a southern baptist church. Riding home in the passengers seat, I found the bridge as we drove passed it.
Thanks to rush-hour traffic, I was able to get a good look at it and map out its’ location in my mind. It would be easy to get there. We were already fairly close to home so it wouldn’t be long and it would be easy to bike to the bridge. I probably would. Mom didn’t say anything the entire car ride home. When she arrived in the driveway, she silently turned off the ignition and got out of the car, and walked into the house.
After a second of sitting there in the passenger seat I got out as well, and walked inside. I sat in my old bed for a while. I waited for my mom to go to bed, not so patiently. I wanted all of this to be done. I wanted to be outside, headed for the bridge. I wanted to be standing over the cars, knowing I called the shots as to when I would fall down there.
I wanted that incredible sense of power. I waited for a while without any noise or anything, and then I read the water turn on and I heard her door shut. About a half and hour later I heard her start snoring, which told me she was sound alseep. I decided on the fly to leave her a note. It didn’t say much. “Hey mom. I’m sorry. I had to do this. It’s too late if it’s morning, probably still if it’s still night. I LOVE YOU. Bye.”
I left it on my bed and crawled out of my window. I got on my bike and started towards the bridge. The breeze became icy whipping against my face the more I sped up, faster and faster, and before I knew it the bridge was in sight. I parked my bike nearby. I wished this was water so that I could just throw it overboard so that there would be no trace. Well, by the time this would be over, my body wouldn’t be traceable anyway. I took a deep breath, and while I was biking I had been nervous but now I wasn’t afraid.
No fear it just felt like it was going to happen so why not get it over with. I sat up on the bridge. Watched the cars go by as people gave me weird looks from inside. I wondered who they all were, if by any chance any of them knew me. I very carefully stood up on the railing. I did not want to trip.
I wanted to see my fall before I fell. I looked down, and fear struck suddenly. Hundreds of cars were below me. I started shaking and I almost tripped. This feeling didn’t make sense. I got out the sleeping pills that I had with me from home from my pocket, and poured out a few, but the breeze became stronger and they all fell from my hand, bottle included. Suddenly a voice spoke into my ear.
I looked around after hearing it and no one was there by sight, yet there was a sudden warmth and there was something there. I should have felt blistering cold but instead I was feeling warmth. Warmth in the depth of my being. “You were pushed back, and about to fall, but I helped you,” a fatherly voice said. I can’t really descripe how fatherly it was. It commanded my attention in a bigger sense than I’ve ever felt.
I couldn’t just listen to this, I had to give Him more. And immediately when he started speaking I recognized Him and I knew who he was beyond the shadow of a doubt. I carefully got down, first just sitting, then I got on my feet on the concrete, and tears came to my eyes as I got on my knees in full view of all of the people in cars driving by. “I am your strength and your song, I have become your salvation.” I opened my mouth to speak, but no words would come out. I started crying harder than I’ve cried in a long time.
“Father…Father…” I kept repeating that. That was the only thing I felt able to say, the only worthy thing I felt could come from my lips. I knew who this was and I knew my alliegiance was reserved only for Him, because He’s the only one worthy. It came suddenly, probably because I’ve always known. I couldn’t jump. That would no longer ever be an option.
He kept me from falling and I could not leave. This God, who protected me even when I wasn’t faithful to Him, deserved my praise, my allegiance, my life. “My hands held you and formed you, and I will give you understanding to learn My commands.” I was crying, by now laying prostrate on the ground. Shaking. It started raining, and very quickly it progressed from raining to pouring, and I was soaking wet.
I heard a car slowing down and pull over a short distance a way from me. “Kyle? What are you doing out here?” I knew that voice unmistakeably; it was Brian. I got up on my knees, still crying. “Kyle, we need to get you home. Come on.”
He came over to me and helped me up, then helped me to his car. I sat in the passenger seat. “I’m getting your seat wet…” I felt uncomfortable. “I don’t care.” He started driving again. “Your mom called me and told me to look for you. She found the note on your bed.”
He reached behind him in the back seat and retrieved a beach towel, and handed it to me. I nodded. “I was going to do it. I had every intention. Every intention of jumping.” He didn’t say anything for a while.
It took me a bit, but I looked over at him and tears were running down his face. He reached up and brushed his hair out of his face and wiped his eyes. I looked away. “I was going to jump,” I continued, “and I wasn’t even scared at all. And then I got all warm even though it was all windy and He spoke to me, Brian. He spoke to me.”
He was still crying but I could tell he was trying to stop as he turned into the exit lane that went back into town. “What did He say?” He said quietly. “I am your strength and your song, I have become your salvation, and you were pushed back, and about to fall, and I helped you.” Brian whistled. “Praise Him! That’s in Psalm 118.” I nodded.
“I couldn’t possibly be standing up in response to him. He kept me from falling, just like it says in the verse. I didn’t want to live, and now I will live. I will live. I know this sounds sudden, but Brian I can’t waste anymore time. I wasted a lot of time before and I can’t do that now. He saved my life, Brian. He kept me from falling and now I owe him mine.”
“Wow,” Brian said, quietly. “This isn’t car conversation. Let’s go to a diner somewhere.” He got out his cell phone and pulled into a diner parking lot. “Hold on, okay? We are going to sit and have a late dinner,” he said, before looking me over, “though we should probably go tou your house and get you some dry clothes first.”
I shook my head. I didn’t have any desire to go home. “No,” I said, “I’m drying, and plus, I don’t want to go home right now, at all.” He cleared his throat. “That’s fair. Just let me text your mom and let her know I’ve got you with me and that you are safe and sound.” I murmured “okay” and leaned back against the seat, watching the rain come down onto the window.
I chuckled. “My mom texts.” Having a parent who is actually involved in technology is slightly awkward. Most of my friends moms’, as well as the parents of the people at school and church, have to have their kids help them figure out how to work a cell phone. “Hey!” Brian countered. “I’m your mom’s age.”
I laughed. “Yeah, which is weird anyway. Plus, you have to text. You’re a youth pastor. You’d be quite the uncool, unhip youth pastor if you didn’t text.” He smiled. “Okay, I’ll at least give you that one. I like texting though.”
I listened to the tapping of his fingers on the keys of his cellphone keypad as he texted my mom. He waited a minute and his phone beeped, and he read the message, I presumed it was from my mom, and then he flipped his phone back to the closed position and put it back into his jean pocket. “Your mom says to tell you she loves you, and she’s glad you’re safe and okay and you can stay with me for the evening.” I nodded to him. “Okay.” He took his phone out of his jean pocket again.
“Now let me just tell my wife where I am so she doesn’t get worried that I’ve been hurt and we can go in and get some food to eat.” I murmured okay. He texted again, more quickly, and then put his phone back into his jean pockets again. “Alrighty then. Race you inside!” I laughed and stated, “Oh it’s on!” and we both got out of the car quickly but he had to lock his car so I took that as an advantageous opportunity to get ahead of him.
I gave him a nice little smirk as I let him inside the diner. “Nice one, punk,” He commented. We were quite quickly seated in a small booth and Brian ordered a pot of coffee and I ordered a hot chocolate with whipped cream, sprinkles and a cherry on top. I wanted both coffee and hot cocoa though, so I was hoping that Brian would share the pot. He chuckled at my particular instructions on how to make the hot chocolate. I shook my head at him.
After the moment passed, I decided to speak. “So…” I said, tapping my fingers nervously on the table. I knew this conversation was at best going to be uncomfortable. I usually expected that of convrersations with Brian, but I was pleasantly surprised the majority of the time. There were times, however, that I end up wishing I would have not talked to him because of the discomfort, anger or disappointment. “I’ll just come right out with it.” Brian said.
I braced myself for the lecture, the judgement that I seemed to convince myself was coming everytime but almost never came. “I’ve been praying for you for a long time. I knew you were going through something pretty serious. I’ve known that for a while. Life has been pretty hard on you lately. I’ve dealt with things like it before, but my heart ached, a lot for you.
Just looking at you, or talking to you online, I’ve been able to tell that you’ve been struggling. I was praying for you every day, for a long time. You’re important to me, and it scared me more than I’ve been scared for a long time and broke my heart more than it’s been broken in a long time when I found you in your room.” I looked down. I put my hands down in my lap and looked down at them. Hearing him say these things and known that they really bothered him that deeply is something I don’t really know how to deal with.
The waitress walked by and placed the pot of coffee in the middle of the table, and a bowl filled with little creamer packages. She also turned over both of our mugs so that they were ready to put coffee in. “I’ll be right back with your extra special hot cocoa, sweetie.” She said, her voice thick and hoarse from years of smoking. I nodded to her and thanked her, and as she walked by I could smell the cigarette smoke on her. It’s a smell that I’ve always liked. That and gasoline.
Two smells that I’m sure are not healthy and are possibly toxic to ingest, well, for sure the cigarette smoke, but they’ve always been pleasant and comforting. Quickly the waitress was back with my hot cocoa, which I began working on with a spoon. I ate the cherry first, and then spooned off some of the whipped cream. “That looks decadent.” Brian commented. I’m sure the look on my face was weird, because I was really enjoying the whipped cream. Hours ago I was convinced I’d never eat anything again, or taste anything, quite obviously because I was going to jump.
To have this experience and to actually be eating something when I was supposed to be dead was amazing. I was really enjoying it. Everything tasted richer, better. More defined. I wish food could always taste like that, then I would eat it more. “I don’t know what to say about tonight, Kyle, but it’s a God thing that it happened.”
I was now curious about how he found me. I knew my mom had called him but she was sound asleep when I left, and I left quietly. “When did my mom call you? When I left the house tonight it was dead quiet.” He cleared his throat and poured himself some coffee, the smell wafting up from the cup. The smell was richer than I’ve ever smelled it.
It actually smelled good, and I used to hate the smell of coffee. My mom would drink it in the car on the way to school and I would feel sick. Now it smelled rich and earthy and…good. “She called me, quite panicked, because she had found the note you left her.” I took a sip from my hot chocolate, sweet and creamy and good, while I digested the incredibly disturbing fact that my mom read the suicide note that I left her and I lived to tell about it. He poured four packets of sugar into his coffee.
I refrained from asking him whether it was sweet enough. He then emptied two packages of creamery, raspberry chocolate flavored, into the coffee. I also refrained from asking him if he wanted some coffee with his cream. “She said that she woke up suddenly, without any noise waking her up or anything, and something told her to check on you but she really couldn’t pinpoint what it was.” It had totally been God, all this time. He woke my mom up, propelled her to my room, kept me from jumping, kept me from falling, and bringing Brian to the same point and space that I was, and whispering in my ear.
Everything. Even before, giving Brian a sense that I wasn’t okay, even when I had given him no indication that I was suicidal. It was God, this whole entire time! I took another sip of my hot chocolate, unable to say anything. “So she walked over to your room and immediately after seeing the note knew what was going on. She told me she read it anyway, and then she called me and told me to look for you.
I prayed while I got into the car that God would guide my hands on the steering wheel to where you were, because I had no clue. No one did.” I nodded, and stirred the whipped cream into my hot cocoa. “Yeah, that was definitely all God.” We both sat there for a minute, him stirring his coffee and me stirring my hot chocolate. I was thinking about the past couple of days and he was as well, I presumed.
We were both looking somewhere, anywhere but at each other. I don’t know that anyone could know what to say about a situation like that. God is the one who moved, and God is the one who spoke. Who could argue with that? Who could add something to it that would be meaningful to say? He cleared his throat, and I coughed.
In any other situation, this would’ve been incredibly awkward but now it felt strangely comfortable that no one was talking and that we were both just here. The waitress broke our silence by walking by. “Either of you two gentlemen know what you’re going to have to eat this fine evening?” I looked at Brian so he would go first even though I knew what I wanted. “Um,” he said, scanning the menu that was sitting next to him quickly, “a club sandwich on wheat bread, with fries for a side.” She nodded, writing the choice down on her writing pad quickly. “Good choice, good choice. Fries or chips, sweetie?”
He smiled at her and asked for a side of ranch dressing to dip the fries in, instead of ketchup. She wrote the two things down and then looked at me. “What’ll it be for you, sweetie?” I checked the menu quickly to see that what I wanted was available. “I’d love a short stack of pancakes with hash browns for a side, extra crispy.” She wrote that down.
“I’ll get these up there pretty quick. Can I get you guys anything else?” she asked. We both shook our heads and thanked her. She walked off. “While I was driving, your mom and I discussed options for you, since one of the conditions of you being released against your doctor’s advice was that you would be safe.
And despite what’s happened since then, Kyle, you did violate that agreement with her.” I nodded. “So, what are the options?” He shifted in his seat some, and his phone vibrated, so he quickly turned off the vibration, not even looking at the phone to see who called or texted him. “Well,” he said, “your mom said that she doesn’t want you at home, because she has to work and she can’t trust you to be safe. Frankly I don’t blame her.”
I sighed, and nodded. I wondered what I’d have to do to prove to them again that I could be safe at home, alone. “Treatment is really the best option for you right now, Kyle. Are there other problems you are dealing with right now, besides the suicide ideation?” he asked, fully knowing the answer given his knowledge of my drug history and having seen me with my shirt off before, scars showing. I nodded, taking a couple more sips from my hot chocolate.
“What problems are those?” I looked at him, knowing that he knows. “I want you to tell me what they are.” I got a little bit uncomfortable. I didn’t speak for a minute and he patiently waited, finishing his coffee and preparing himself another cup. “Um…drug abuse and self harm.”
He nodded. “Okay, I knew about both of those, and I just wanted to know if there was anything else.” I shook my head. “I know a place that can help you with those things, Kyle. It’s a really supportive environment where you can heal and let God heal you.” I sighed. “The psych wing of the hospital?”
I groaned, then finished my cup of hot chocolate in one big gulp, then used the napkin to wipe the brown mustache from my mouth. He shook his head. “No, actually. It’s a safe place where you can go to start learning how to heal. Your mom and I discussed this and we think this is the best option right now, because your mom will only let you stay home again if you go to treatment.” I let that sink in again.
Not going home again. Must go to treatment. Treatment or live somewhere other than home. My mom does not want me living with her if I do not get treatment. My mom does not want me living with her. That sentence kept repeating over and over again in my head. My mom does not want me to live with her.
“Kyle, it is because we both care about you, and we want you to be safe. We do not want you to act on your feelings if you become suicidal again. I crossed my arms and leaned back a little bit, leaning on the booth wall. “So…do I even have an option in this or is it already set up?” Brian cleared his throat and sipped his coffee again. “You always have a choice.
You can refuse this, but your mom says that you won’t be able to stay with her then, and she will not support you so you’ll have to start working. But if you decide to get help and go to treatment, your mom will continue to support you. Either way I’m always here to talk. But I do hope you choose treatment, it will make things a whole lot easier, not to mention it’ll be better for you because you can start healing.” I sighed, and rubbed my face with my hands. “Crap.”
I commented, running the options over in my head. The waitress came back with the club sandwich and gracefully placed it before Brian. He put his hands in his lap. I sighed and continued thinking. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Brian sighed in relief. “You won’t regret this, ok? I’ll come visit you once per day when I am able and your mom will also be coming to visit you. You have the option to elect for your Dad not to visit with you. Be sure to be honest with your psychologist about what has happened in your past, ok?” I nodded.
“That includes the abuse you’ve been through with your dad. They can only help you as much as you let them, and they’ll be able to help you most when you’re completely honest with them.” I nodded, and agreed. “Sure,” I said. “So when do I go over there?” The waitress came over again and placed the short stack and the syrups in front of me.
She also took my hot cocoa cup. “I’ll be back with another one for you soon, ok sweetie?” I nodded and thanked her again. I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a sip of it. I’ve always enjoyed my coffee strictly black. I like it bitter; I don’t enjoy it sweet.
“Your mom and I had discussed them while you were still in the hospital and I called them today and explained the situation. They told me that I was free to bring you in whenever you agreed to come, today. So we can go over after we eat and I’ll bring you some clothes later.” I nodded. I was still quite uncomfortable with the idea of this facility, but it seemed safe. I hadn’t felt safe in a while.
I was still not comfortable with the idea of going to this place. I was not comfortable with the idea of what this place held. But I think I knew, even then that I wouldn’t be safe at home. Or anywhere else. So I decided that I’d give it a try. “Okay, well, we should do it then.”
Brian had a relieved look on his face. “Let’s pray before we eat, ok?” I nodded and we both bowed our heads. “God, I praise you! I praise your name. I praise you for your grace! I praise you for preserving Kyle’s life and giving him a second chance.
I’m so thankful for him, God. I thought I lost him last night. It has been one of the most traumatic, roller coaster days to my life. Through it all you were holding all of us, Lord, and you knew what was happening the entire time. I know that You have a plan for Him. I know that he will not die now, but he will live, and tell of the wonderful works you have done for him.
I thank you so much lord, for preserving him. And I know you have a wonderful plan. I thank you for your grace, and I thank you so much for speaking to him today. I thank you for bringing him to his knees. Lord to that, I don’t even know what to say! I just want to praise You lord and thank you. Thank you so much.
And then lord, as we eat this meal, I pray that you bring nourishment from it to our bodies and that it would honor you. I thank you again and I praise you! In your name, amen.” I repeated the word and we started eating. The pancakes tasted better than I had ever tasted them.

We didn’t talk much while we ate. Both enjoying our food, me getting more and more nervous about going to the treatment center. The waitress brought another hot chocolate over to me, same as it had been before, cherry on top included. There was chocolate and caramel syrup included this time. I smiled at her and thanked her. “Thought you could use the extra pick me up.” She smiled and put the check on the table, which Brian then took.
“Are you sure, Brian?” He nodded. “Oh yeah. My treat. I think I can at least get your last lunch outside of the center for a while.” I worked on eating the whipped cream off of my hot chocolate. “Gee, thank you for reminding me.”

He chuckled. “Hey, no problem.” He waited for me to finish my hot chocolate, which I delayed finishing as long as I could. “You know,” he said, “Maddy would be proud of you right now.” I looked at him and sighed, and thought about that for a little bit. “I know.” He cleared his throat.
“If you don’t want to do this for you, do it for Maddy, ok?” I nodded. I continued my hot chocolate, thinking about that. I kept delaying finishing my hot chocolate as much as I could. With every sip, I was getting more and more nervous. My stomach started churning again, and that’s the best way I can find to describe it. The tingling sensation was at the base of my spine, and my arms started to shake.
Brian had his arms crossed on the table and he was noticing my anxiety. “Hey, getting nervous?” I vigorously nodded my head. “It’s ok, Kyle. It’ll be fine. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of at the treatment center. I’ll even go in with you.”
I finished my hot chocolate and began wringing my hands. “I…I can’t do this. No. Can we just go home? I promise it’ll be fine.” Brian shook his head.
“Yes, you absolutely CAN do this, Kyle. I’m going to do this with you. We can do it together. I promise you, we can.” I just looked down at my hands. “We should pray first, before we go.” I nodded, figuring it would at least help.
We both bowed our heads, and Brian spoke. “God, thank You for Your grace, that you’ve given both me and kyle through the cross. Thank you so much that you’ve given him more options for his life, in a time when he thought he had none. God, you’re opening up the door and giving him a whole world full of opportunities. God, I just thank you so much for giving him new chances! I thank you for providing him with the option of going to the treatment center, Lord! I thank you for that. Right now, though, this is a scary time, God.
It’s a new thing and a scary time. Kyle is nervous right now as we begin this change. It’s a scary thing to do but we know that we can do anything through You, because you give us strength. Lord I also know You provide us with peace, Lord. Unsurpassable peace. I call on you to provide Kyle with that peace, Lord, that peace that you have this under control and it is all going to be alright.
Lord, give him the hope that You are working in his heart, and that you have already started molding and shaping him. Show him that you’re making him new. I pray that you would give him the peace that can’t be explained except as a calm river. I pray that you’d give him calm as we go to the treatment center Lord. I pray for the people who will be caring for him and working with him, that you would guide their thoughts and their actions. Lord I pray that all this would be done, in your holy name. Amen.”
He got up and went to the counter to pay, and then we went to the car. I went as slowly as I could, as I still didn’t really want this to happen. The thought of this change scared the heck out of me. I didn’t know how long I’d be staying there. Hopefully just for the night, and then in the morning they’d see that I really don’t need that much help and they’d let me go home. That would hopefully be how that would go. I got in the passenger seat of his car, trying to breathe normally.
Brian got in as well and started the ignition. He started driving, and soon he took a turn toward his house. “Your mom packed up some of your clothes and dropped them off at my place, okay? We’re going to go get them so that you have some stuff to wear.” I nodded, resigned now to the fact that I wouldn’t be able to change where I’m headed. I breathed deeeply and leaned back into the seat as he pulled into his driveway. I closed my eyes, hoping that time would go by faster, or perhaps slower, or rewind a couple years, or perhaps just stop altogether.
Brian got out of the car and closed the door behind him, but left the CD on that he had in the player. He was only gone for a couple of minutes and he came back with a duffel bag for me. Great, my mom went a little crazy and overpacked. It looks like almost every garment I own is packed into that huge bag. He put it in the backseat, with something tucked under his arm. He got back into the car then and placed the item, a new-looking study bible, in my lap. “This is for you. Figured you could use a new one and you’re going to want and need to be reading that often, especially when you’re at the treatment center.”
I nodded, thumbing through the pages. “Thanks, Brian. This is a really nice bible.” He smiled. “It’s not a problem. I buy them when they go on sale, in case someone comes to youth group and doesn’t have one.” He started driving again, and as he was pulling out of the driveway, I saw Michelle, his wife, waving out of the living room window at us.
I waved back at her before we pulled back into the road. Now we were headed straight there. “Still doing okay?” I nodded, but I was still extremely scared. “Go in with me, okay?” He nodded. “Absolutely.”
It wasn’t long before I saw the building, Pine Ridge Residential Treatment Center, and I leaned forward to look at it as we pulled into the parking lot. “It’s a nice building,” I commented. It was beautifully built, and there was plenty of trees and plants all around it. We found a parking spot pretty quickly. I just sat there, looking around, still not quite ready to take the final step and go inside. Brian sat there with me for a minute.
I think he knew that I needed a minute. He sat with me and patiently waited. I breathed in. “Ok, here we go, I suppose…” I opened the car door and got out of the car, and Brian got my bag from the backseat. I opened the door again and got the new bible out of the front seat, and closed the car door again.
We both walked in together, and there was a nice spacious lobby, quiet, with carpet and plenty of couches and comfortable looking chairs. Brian signed in with me and we went to sit down. “There will be a psychologist who will come get you in a minute, and he’ll come and talk to you and help you figure out in which treatment plan you need to begin. It will make the entire process less confusing for everyone, especially you.” Brian explained. We sat there for about twenty minutes, me just staring down at my bible and him reading the newspaper that had been sitting on the coffee table.
“I feel much better now that you’re here, and safe, don’t you?” Brian asked, putting the newspaper down and looking over at me. I shrugged. “Not gonna lie, I don’t really feel good about this at all. I want to go home.” Despite the kind and soft appearance of this place, I didn’t want to be here anymore. I was looking over at my duffell bag and realized that it was packed with so many clothes for a reason. I’m not just coming here for a night, probably not even just for a week. I can’t stay here for a long time. No, I can’t.
“That’s okay,” Brian commented. “It’s expected to be nervous and scared before coming in here.” I shook my head. “I’m not nervous or scared anymore I just don’t want to be here.” Brian cleared his throat. “Give it a couple days, okay? It will get better, I promise.
Kyle, this is much better than you being at risk of losing your life again. I may not be able to help you if it happens again because it may be like the first time, you know?” He looked at me, and I bit my lip and nodded. “I may not be there and I may not get the clue. The thought scares me to death, Kyle. But I’d rather you be somewhere safe, like here-“ I interrupted him, something I didn’t do to him often.
“My mom’s house IS safe, Brian! It’s my MOM!” I raised my voice on the last word. “It’s not safe, there, Kyle, not for you right now,” Brian said calmly and quietly. “You were there tonight and you left. It wasn’t safe for you.” I groaned and kicked at the coffee table.
“Hey, stop.” Brian said pretty sternly. “It’s going to be fine, trust me, alright? You’re not going back home tonight.” I looked at him. “When am I going home, then?” I crossed my arms across my chest, looking from him to the duffell bag and back again. He sighed.
“The minimum stay here is six months for drug abuse and mental illness.” I was pissed now. How dare he keep this from me? My drug use wasn’t serious, just uppers and/or downers if I’m not feeling okay. And only when I’m on the verge of insanity or death and I don’t want to die. “You put my drug use in there?!”
Brian nodded. “I’ve known it was bad since I caught you at youth camp last summer with the pills, Kyle. I talked to your parents about it several times. This is a place to get help with it. They won’t judge you for it here.” I rolled my eyes, now pissed off at him. “Yeah right, Brian. It’s a Christian treatment center.”

I looked out the window, scooting to the opposite side of the couch even more from him. “Just because they’re Christian does not mean that they judge you, Kyle. And here it means quite the opposite. Trust me I’ve brought kids here before.” I turned towards him again. “Oh great so if someone’s not doing well you just lock them up?” I retorted.
Without giving him a chance to reply I continued, “Oh, and I’m pretty sure you judged me for mine last year so you shouldn’t be talking.” I turned away from him again, hoping to turn the communication lines off. I took the bible from my lap and but it in between us to solidify the silent message. He didn’t buy it. He took the bible and put it on the table.
“I never thought less of you, Kyle. I just was concerned for you. Quite concerned. As your youth leader you put in me in an uncomfortable position with the pills last year. It was my responsibility to make sure none of my campers had anything on them. I wasn’t mad at you. I was worried about you.”

I sighed, not knowing what to say to that exactly. We sat in silence for a minute before a man in a white button down shirt and kakhi pants came out to the waiting area. He was wearing a nametag with the name “Steve” on it. “Are you kyle?” he asked. I nodded. “I need to steal ya for just a little while.”
I nodded an okay to him and followed him to his office. He gestured for me to sit in the chair that was against the wall. I sat down, and crossed my arms again. He sat down behind his desk. He started off asking me the required questions and everything, like who was the president, who was the first president of the united states, what date it is, and what city we were in. That took a little while and was quite boring.
Then he wanted me to talk about what brought me here tonight. “Um, I tried to commit suicide for the second time in 24 hours.” He wrote something down on his clipboard. “Okay, have you tried any before today?” I shook my head. “I’ve wanted to, but never strongly enough.” He nodded warmly.
“Okay. What did you do to commit suicide today?” He crossed his hands together and listened. “Well,” I started, “it was technically last night but I took a bunch of different pills with a lot of vodka, and my youth pastor found me before anything serious happened. Then, tonight I was about to jump off of a bridge into traffic.” He nodded, looking unsurprised, and I figured I was far from the only one who had tried this lately.
We continued to talk about that, and whether or not I was feeling safe at the moment. We also talked about the history of suicide in my family. He asked me if I self-harmed and I told him yes, I did, and the scars tended to be bad. He said okay and we kept talking about other things, the subject matter becoming of an increasingly unserious nature. Finally, he let us be in silence for a couple minutes while he wrote a couple things down. Then he asked me about my drug use, and I told him honestly about it.
And that I didn’t think I’d be needing treatment for it. He explained that it would probably be required to have treatment for it while I was there. He asked if I had been a victim of domestic abuse and for the first time, I answered that question honestly. He asked by who, and I told him, again, honestly, then became scared of what he was going to do with that information. He told me that the matter had to be investigated if abuse was reported. The good thing, however, was that he couldn’t reach me here and nor could he hurt me here. I was completely safe.
I sighed and shrugged, still nervous about what they were going to do. Lock him up? What? He was going to be so pissed that I talked to to the doctors about the abuse. Maybe that was an advantage to being somewhere locked, however. Maybe no one could touch me here, including dad.
The guy concluded that he did believe I was in need of treatment and that they wouldn’t be able to let me go home, and that I would be admitted with suicide watch, and he explained what that meant, and then he gave me a few papers, including one asking me who I wanted my visitors list to include, and he let me go back out with Brian. I sat there and started to fill out the visitors list, leaving out my mom and my dad, putting on my roommates Jess and Brian. Those are really the only people I wanted seeing me, and really, not even Jess. Brian is really the only one I was okay with coming to see me. I was ok with leaving it like that. Brian and I sat in silence for a little while.
I was still nervous, but not as much. I just sat there, not knowing what to say. “I’ll come visit you later today, as well, okay?” I nodded, hoping time would speed up between now and then. I just crossed my arms again and sat there, not really thinking of talking to Brian anymore. He sighed, getting the obvious clue that I wasn’t in the mood to talk. “Well,” he said, “I know you’re not glad you’re here. And that’s to be expected. But I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad because I know you’d not be safe otherwise. And you’ll be safe here, I can promise you. I know you’ll feel different soon. I promise.” I nodded to him, and still didn’t really respond.