How I Failed To Save A Life

“I can’t just stay up with you all night,” I told Brittany. My head was pounding from all the confusion swirling around inside of me. It was one AM and I had school the next day but Brittany had called around ten and I had been at her house ever since then. 1

“I know.” Brittany whispered. Her face was streaked with the track marks of tears. Her thin shoulders quivered under her baggy sweatshirt. I couldn’t leave her like this, she was my best friend. I remembered how she’d helped me deal with my parent’s divorce. 2

“Well maybe I can stay a little longer,” I decided.3

“Thank you,” Brittany choked out. Her voice was thick but sounded like a little girl’s voice instead of a sixteen-year-old’s. 4

We sat in silence for awhile, the two of us perched on the very edge of her bed. I could feel the bed vibrating from her shaking. She was scared. I had never seen Brittany this scared, not even when her depression had started. She always just covered it up with that dark angriness. I was the only one of her friends that had stuck through with her through her anger. Even I had never guessed how deep the pain ran though. Even after seeing the scars on her arms, I still hadn’t understood just how bad things had gotten.5

“I never meant for it to get like this.” Brittany whispered in a voice that was almost inaudible. 6

Part of me wanted to scream at her and ask her why she didn’t get help earlier. It seemed to me like she should have know she needed help after the first time she made herself throw up a meal in order to lose more weight. Or she could have said something to an adult after she split her skin open with a razor, but she didn’t. 7

Then again, maybe it was partially my fault too. Maybe if I had broken my promise and told someone what she was doing to herself, maybe then I wouldn’t be here now, but I hadn’t. I had been too worried about breaking that tenuous thread of trust she’d handed me.8

Carefully, measuring at my words one by one, I spoke.9

“I know. I just want you to be okay.”10

Neither of us had mentioned the suicide word since I’d arrived. When Brittany had called she dropped it immediately. She’d told me she was scared that she wasn’t strong enough to stop herself. She said she knew how much it would hurt people around her and that she didn’t want to do it, but that she didn’t know if she could even control her own actions anymore.11

If I had heard the pill bottle rattling around in the background, I would have called 911 immediately. I didn’t hear the bottle. She didn’t let me in on the fact that she had an entire bottle of her mom’s mood stabilizers until I arrived at her house five minutes after we got off the phone.12

Her parents weren’t even home. They left her home alone all the time with out thinking twice. Even in the last few months when she’d spiraled into the dark moods, they still had been leaving her alone. Brittany said she like being home alone most of the time. Most of the time, but tonight she was scared.13

I had asked her for the bottle as soon as she showed it to me. Hesitantly she’d handed it over. The bottle was still in my hands. It’s rattle was like a reminder of how close I’d come to losing my best friend and warning of what might happen if I left to go home, both at the same time.14

“Please can you just give me your dad’s cell number?” I begged her again.15

Brittany didn’t answer, instead she collapse in a fit of tears. When I tried to pull her out of it with a hand on her shoulder she flinched violently and screamed a shrill and primal scream.16

At that point I knew I was more than in over my head and I kind of lost. I guess my fear turned into anger and frustration that I was powerless to help my best friend.17

“Stop screaming! Just snap out of it. I can’t take this anymore. I’m not your therapist, I can’t help you. If you won’t give me the number for your mom or dad’s cell than I need to leave now. I can’t handle this. I bet you just want attention anyway. Isn’t that what a suicide attempt is? Just a plea for attention? Well I’m not feeding into this anymore.”18

I got up off the bed. Brittany just kept screaming. I headed toward the door. Brittany gave no sign that she’d even heard me. My hand rested on the door knob. I knew I couldn’t leave her screaming like this. Turning around I walked back toward the bed and approached it gently. The pill bottle was still in my hand.19

“I’ll stay,” I told Brittany. It was two AM. 20

Through her tears Brittany managed to spit out jumbled words.21

“What?” I asked.22

“Don’t call my dad. He’ll just hurt me more.”23

A sick feeling swam through me as understanding dawned over me.24

“How does he hurt you?” I asked Brittany gently in the manner you’d use to ask a three year old something. I was afraid to hear her answer. I was afraid to do something wrong. So afraid. 25

“He rapes me.” Brittany said. Her voice was monotone. She’s stopped screaming. Her eyes looked vacant. The sick feeling within me intensified. Suddenly her behavior all made sense.26

“You need to tell an adult.” I told her. Now it was my voice that was squeaking. Now I felt like a little girl. 27

“I can’t. Just give me back the pill bottle. I want to die.” Brittany’s voice was still monotone as she reached for the pill bottle in my hands.28

Fear pumped through my veins so hard. This was all wrong. I told Brittany I’d be right back as I dashed out of her room that had felt like it was suffocating me and ran into the bathroom. My stomach jumped into my throat as I wretched and vomited in the toilet. Her dad. Her dad. Her dad raped her. Images of her dad rushed through my head. I could see his eyes, that I had once thought looked so gentle and understanding, leering at me and laughing. I puked again. 29

Leaning against the bathroom door, I dialed three numbers that I should have dialed hours ago. 911. 30

“My friends really suicidal,” I choked out. I gave them the address and the other information they’d asked for and took a few deep breath then I put the pill bottle back in the cabinet where it belonged and returned to Brittany’s room.31

The room was empty. Her window was opened. I heard someone screaming and crying and it took me a moment to realize that someone was me. I ran to the open window. Brittany lay on the ground seven stories below.32