Chapter 2: Suicide Hotline

15.5K 493 81
                                    

Song: The Whisperer - David Guetta ft Sia

Hope's POV:

(Hope up the top)

"Hello dear, we thank you for calling 1-800 suicide hotline. How can I be of service to you today?" I asked softly, the same line I said every time.

The cold phone was pressed up against my ear as I sat quietly at my desk. It was getting late and my shift would be over soon.

Although I would never complain about this job, it was heavy at times, but the thought that I was helping people was enough to keep me going.

Yet the though always irked in the back of my mind after every call. 'Did I do enough?'

Now I know you are supposed to separate yourself from yours and other people's problems, it was hard at times but I had mastered it. Sometimes.

"H-Hi." A croaky, quiet voice rang through my ears.

My heart stopped, his voice sounded like he was in so much pain, as if he had been hurt.

"Hi sweetheart, what's your name?" I asked gently, pulling out my note book and clicking on my pen.

"C-Chance." He stuttered.

"Hello Chance, what's your last name and age sweetheart." I repeated, writing down his name quickly.

"My last name is King. I'm 22." He spoke, his voice still croaky.

"I'm Hope. It's very nice to be able to speak to you, Chance. Now can you tell me why you've called this specific hotline?" I asked. This part always had anxiety crawling into my stomach.

Having to hear why people call is always one of the hardest parts of this job.

Yet the most hardest part is when they end the call.

"I-I." He began, but instantly started to sob.

My own heart tugged at the sound of his loud cries. I just wanted to help and save him, save him from whatever pain he was physically or mentally feeling.

"Darling, it's ok shh. I'm here. You're safe."

Was he safe?

"I-I made a really bad mistake and decision and I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so scared, H-Hope." He sobbed.

My heart dropped. All I could think about was what he had done. Had he taken a bunch of pills? Had he cut himself? Had he attempted something worse?

"Chance, tell me what you did." I spoke softly yet sternly, clenching my jaw as my tongue dabbed my dry lips.

"I-" He began, but hesitated briefly.

"You're safe here with me, now can you tell me what's happened?" I repeated softly, the anticipation and anxiety began to slowly creep up as I awaited his answer.

With a shaky sigh, he continued, causing my heart to drop to my ass.

"I tried to hang myself."

I gulped audibly, writing down the cause.

"Chance can you tell me why you did that? Tell me where the rope is?." I asked, taking a deep breath.

"I don't want to live anymore. I hate myself. No one understand or wants me. I'm not needed or loved, I'll never even find love. I just feel like I'm out of my mind and my life isn't even mine. I just don't want to be alive!" He cried, his voice slowly increasing in anger.

Suicide hotlineWhere stories live. Discover now