Drama Fiction Inspirational

This story contains sensitive content

“Please don’t do it,” She said as I pulled away from her, though I didn’t actually hear her say it; my attention was on the injection needle laying on the small, rickety table at my side. Pulling away from her presence I shoved my hands tightly under my arm pits; “I don’t need her butting into my life; I don’t need her soft voice and sad eyes looking at me, its’ my life and if I want to kill myself it’s’ up to me, not her.” 

I could tell her gentle hand wanted to press onto my arm; I could tell from her eyes she wanted to prevent me from doing what I desperately wanted to do; to stab that fucking needle into my arm and say bye-bye to this whole fucking world, so fuck off lady and leave me alone!” I twisted my body away from her but as I did so, my knee hit the table and my needle rolled from the top and fell to the floor. I didn’t move, but neither did she. I b egan to cry dry tears.

“Why can’t you leave me alone!” I yelled at her. “This is my life, not yours, so fuck off lady, I don’t need you dog eyeing me as if I were a fucking side show, or something!” She never flinched; not even when I cursed at her. What is she dumb or just stupid. My eyes moved to the needle laying on the floor just a few feet away. “Go away, can’t you see I’m busy?” I began to gasp as my throat seemed to clog up and spit began to spatter from my mouth. “Fuck off lady!” I yelled as I began to sob. 

I don’t remember her hand reaching my arm, nor did I realize she had grabbed me and was holding me in her arms as I cried and sobbed into her shoulder; but it happened and somewhere deep inside me, I liked it.

It seemed for ever that I was being rocked in her arms as she softly shooshed me, telling me all was going to be just fine and for that short or long time I really wanted to believe her. I no longer looked for the needle because I was comfortable where I was. 

I clung to her as she softly told me she was going to help me over the rough spots and she was going to get me a nice place to live and where I could get better but that it would be one step at a time and I wanted to believe her. Then I realized, or I thought I realized, there was no help for me. My parents kicked me out and I jumped from one foster home to another where they didn’t even want me. I was now too old for foster homes and I had no place to go, with no education because I skipped too much school, didn’t know how to get a job and keep it.

No place to live but on the street’s. There was no way this bitch could help me. I pulled away from her.

Reaching for the needle I stretched too far and fell of my make-shift cot onto the floor and let out a screech as I hit my head on the end of the rickety table. Blood began to spirt from the huge cut on my forehead and run down into my eyes. She again grabbed me as I fell back against her. I was crying so pitifully; like a baby for fuck sake. What was wrong with me! That was when I realized the needle was gone and also she and I were not the only two in the room. Who else was there? This was a fucking freak show. I had to get out of here!

I tried to stand up but she never let go of me; not once and I was beginning to not want to be let go. There was activity all around me, but I could not see for the blood in my eyes. I tried to wipe it away but there seemed to be so much of it; I began to cling to this lady who has come to save me. I heard sirens getting closer and then stopping and more activity and voices; then I collapsed.

When I awoke I discovered I was in a hospital with a huge bandage wrapped around my head. Knowing where I was I asked the nurse, where I was and she replied in a hospital. ya, I knew that I just wanted her to tell me. “When can I leave?” I asked and she replied she had no idea.

Where was that lady that was so kind to me? I wondered. Just like everybody else, gone. Then I heard her soft voice, “Well you had yourself quite a time” she said as she took my hand. “How do you feel today?” 

I looked at her with my one un-bandaged eye and asked how long I had been here. She replied I had been in the hospital for two days, going on three and that I had hit the corner of the table that had a very sharp piece of wood jutting out of the corner of it and it went into the top of my eye and into my temple. I looked at her for a long time. “I could have died!” I remarked.”Yes you could have,” she said, “But that’s’ not in your future.”

She sat with me for quite a spell, talking to me and asking me questions that I didn’t want to answer but for some reason I did. She also told me about herself and her life and all that 

time she held my hand; it felt good.

I finally asked her why she believed she should save me from taking my life and she told me she lost her son to drugs; he was only sixteen. Since that time she has been helping teens who were on the brink of suicide, giving them a new start on life and giving them the chance they never had. I told her I didn’t deserve her help but she told me everyone deserves a second chance.

When I left the hospital she took me to her home where I had a nice room, and lots of food to eat. She enrolled me into adult education and introduced me to her church, where I had a part time job of cleaning the building.

I very seldom think about that day I wanted to die, when I had nothing to live for and I was all alone. I learned a person is never alone; there is first God, then there are people doing Gods’ work. I have a business of my own now and a family that consists of many lost kids and of course my dear friend who asked me to “Please don’t do it.”

June 10, 2022 17:39

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Norma Gauld
18:38 Jun 18, 2022

Thank you Chris; Yes, I should have sorted out the beginning as I had pondered over it a bit but alas, convinced myself that it was fine. Thanks for the tip. Ng


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Chris Morris
09:36 Jun 18, 2022

Hi Norma, thanks for your story. You have the foundations of something really engaging here but it just needs a bit of an edit. There are a few little typos and your apostrophes are used a bit inconsistently. For example, when you're describing something that belongs to someone, you should use it like "God's" not "Gods'" or "God's'" (Just using "God" as this is part of your story towards the end). Another little detail I'd encourage you to think about would relate to what happened in your opening: “Please don’t do it,” She said as I pulled...


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