-7-
I wasn't sure what was happening. Am I dreaming? Certainly not. This headache is definitely real.
"Ms. Amber, good to see you all awake and conscious. How are you feeling?" How was I feeling? "I am Dr. Mahoney, by the way. super glad to meet you!" I would've liked it much better if this doctor with unnaturally dark eyes would have left the sarcasm of his tone outside the room.
"I feel okay..." I answered him, however, my eyes refused to let go of the sight of Jerome Peters. What was he doing here? What was I doing here?
"What am I doing here?"
"You don't remember?" The doctor raised an eyebrow while Jerome Peters kept looking at me, assessing me, making me uncomfortable as hell.
"I'm afraid I don't."
You don't?
"You don't?" Jerome Peters' voice almost made me jump. It was the first time ever that he was addressing me directly. Both his eyebrows were furrowed but in astonishment. A trident formed between his eyebrows, any moment now it may start deflecting bolts of lightning. Stop staring at it, you stupid girl, I reminded myself.
I also reminded myself that he was probably expecting an answer to his question, "No."
"Really, you don't?" His looks were accusing. I didn't like that. The constant questioning certainly boiled my temperature to the point where without thinking he was my boss I snapped.
"I said no!"
He looked surprised, amused rather by the way both his eyebrows raised. He didn't expect me to snap. His face was quite easy to read. I have never seen him up close before but now that I did, he was quite unusual in his looks, not very handsome but bearable.
"Okay..." He trailed off and stared at me like I was some alien who had come from another planet.
There was silence for a while. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to know or remember. I don't know why I was here. I somehow didn't want to ask either.
But if you don't, how will we know?
I am not going to ask. I want to sleep. I would rather ask and get to know tomorrow.
Wait, what? You can't do that. Okay, maybe you can but I won't let it go like that.
"Well, Amber." Suddenly the doctor spoke up. "Listen to this very carefully - what I am going to tell you next."
I nodded my head.
"You tried committing suicide by jumping off the City Bridge and my friend here Mr. Peters saved you." Dr. Mahoney uttered those words with caution, carefully gestured towards Jerome Peter who did not respond.
I, however, was sure that my eyes popped out of their sockets. "Not possible!"
Suicide? Me? It didn't fit right.
"I..I—" I could not believe it. I tried...I can't! Suddenly the machines around me started beeping loudly. I felt myself getting wet with sweat.
I can't. I can't. I can't!
I wanted to scream it out but couldn't because the darkness once again engulfed me. It wasn't comfortable this time either.
***
I was conscious. I was awake but I decided to not open my eyes. Opening my eyes would mean facing that doctor and Jerome Peters. I don't want to do that. I don't want to be reminded of what they told me, not like I didn't remember it.
I've been laying here for a while. I've had time to think.
I admit my life is miserable. But is it miserable enough that I try to kill myself? Am I really that weak? I am not. I definitely did not try to kill myself. It is just not me.
I tried remembering what may have caused me to land up in this situation but nothing came up. Last night was a blur. Was it morning now, though? I should check the time.
I opened my eyes but before I could make an attempt to get up and look around, the doctor pushed me down. He shone a bright light into my eyes.
"Good you are conscious, again." His tone is agitating.
"Can you be a little less rude?" I rubbed my eyes a little, that stupid light was making me see things with my eyes closed. Those surreal rings of no particular colour, the companion to all the darkness in the world.
"They don't teach that at medical school." I rolled my eyes at his lame reply. They most certainly teach doctors to maintain composure, I have seen that in House M.D.
"How long was I out?"
"15 minutes."
"That's it?" It felt like an eternity. I could have sworn it was an eternity.
"So, you remember anything now?" Jerome Peters. He was still here. Oh my god.
"No." What am I supposed to do? I don't remember anything.
"So you don't remember trying to kill yourself?" His tone was starting to resemble the doctor.
"I don't because I didn't do anything like that," I spoke as slowly and clearly as I could.
"Well, it is what it is, though. If I wouldn't have caught you in time, you right now would have been in heaven...or hell." He said in an all-knowing tone that offended me. The doctor probably understood as he tried to elbow him discretely though obviously failed because I noticed it.
"Amber, you maybe don't remember it but you certainly did attempt it."
"I don't believe you both. I'm not a coward. I will never attempt such a dreadful thing!" There are many things wrong with me but this is one thing I would never do.
"You did try it though and that is why you are here."
"It is not possible. I'm capable of many things but not self-harm." I was nearly pleading. God knows why!
"You certainly are more capable than you think you are." Why do people think that muttering means the other person won't hear you? The other person more often than not does hear you. Somebody should teach Jerome Peters that.
"Look, I understand you are in a shock. Probably in denial. But let us try to make it easier for everyone present here, yeah?" This doctor sort of reminded me of Dr. House but I am pretty sure was ruder and less smart.
"I am not in denial. Every person has their own temperament and mine would never allow me to do this. So don't force it on me. I did not do it and I will not believe you." I am not going to back down, what do they think, who am I? An idiot? I am not a pushover.
Apparently you did try to push yourself off a bridge though...
"Okay, enough. You did try it. Do you remember not trying it last night?"
"No, doctor, I do not but I--"
"You don't remember. I can't take your word of uncertainty over the word of an eye-witness." I was starting to hate this doctor and his smart talk. He looked at Jerome Peters briefly. He was awfully quiet. I was forming my argument in my head when he said further, "It is now my duty and also of Jerome here, to look after you, especially his."
"Especially mine?" Every time Mr. Peters speaks I think I lose some respect for him. He is certainly not as imposing as everyone back at the office thinks he is.
I was just confused though. In all this debate I have forgotten that Mr. Peters actually brought me here. How could that have been possible? Out of all the people, he was the one who brought me here? Was fate playing some kind of game with me?
Not fate. But I am.
While I tried to nuanced my thoughts, the doctor has already started speaking again. Does he ever not speak? "He brought you here. We were not able to contact any of your family or friends. Since we can't leave you alone, unsupervised, he will be looking after you for 2 weeks."
Okay, I need to process this through. Jerome Peters will look after me for 2 weeks. Nobody in my contact list could be contacted. But how did he get access to my contacts? I had many questions. I will start with the one I had already framed.
"How did you access my contacts? Did you unlock my phone?"
"It is not my mistake you have an easy password. The L shape is a very lame lock pattern."
"It is invasion of privacy!"
"You just attempted suicide, you think this should be your topmost concern?" Okay, maybe here the doctor was right.
"I don't need him to take care of me!" I gestured towards my boss. The idea was stupid. How could possibly that work that? I don't need anyone to take care of me.
"See, she doesn't need me!" Jerome Peters finally spoke up. I turned my gaze towards him and sure as hell, he wasn't looking forward to it any more than I was.
"Okay, let me simplify it for you both." Dr. Mahoney's tone for the first time was maybe less sarcastic and more serious. "Amber attempted suicide whether it was in her nature or not, matters not. She needs supervision it is either under Jerome or it is in the psychiatric ward."
Psychiatric ward. Those are horrible places. I have read testimonies and have edited autobiographies of people describing their horrible experiences there.
"What? A psychiatric ward? For what? I'm not insane for god's sake!" I can't imagine being there!
"She is okay can't you see?" Mr. Peters spoke up again.
"Shut up! She is my patient and you brought her in." I am pretty sure doctors are supposed to be patient and calm. He though...what a haughty doctor!
"I brought her to you because you are my friend. You can't shift all her responsibility on me."
"You took on the responsibility the moment you decided to approach her." Well, at least he has more patience and calm than the C.E.O.
"But this is not even fair. I thought my duty will end after she will be under your supervision."
"You should have known better then. She tried committing suicide. Plus you are her boss. Aren't you supposed to have some responsibility for your employees?"
"Yes, and I fulfilled it. It's not my job to look after her for 2 whole weeks!"
They were talking about me as if I was not even present there. Jerks!
"Excuse me? Can you both stop talking like I don't exist? I do not need anyone to look after me. I don't need a psychiatric ward to take care of me either." They both looked at me, probably realizing I was in the same room.
"It doesn't matter what you think." Okay, I was now offended - how dare that doctor!
"But.." I was cut off by my boss.
"Okay, let's keep her in this very room for 2 weeks. This should be fine right?" Wow, he was shrugging off his responsibility but who am I blame? I would have done the same, to be honest.
"Not gonna happen. This country doesn't have spare beds for suicide patients. We have room in the psychiatric ward though." They both are actually quite similar. Arrogant Jerks! "You have no other options but to look after her Jerome."
"Excuse me. Haven't I made myself clear about not wanting any supervision?" What had I landed myself into? And why don't these two men listen to me?
"Okay, let's make it easy for you. It is either his house or a psychiatric ward. You choose, okay?" He said it so coolly as if he was asking me if I wanted extra cheese in my pizza or not!
"There is not a choice of wanting neither. Can I please just go home?"I trailed off realizing how helpless I actually was right now.
"Would you rather that we involve the police? Suicide is a criminal offense still. Oh look now you have a third option!"
I opened my mouth and then closed it. I probably looked like a goldfish in a plastic bag, waiting for eternal doomed life in a glass bowl.
"Why can't you believe me? I did not do anything like that!"
"Decide quick Amber. We don't have the whole night."
"I don't want to go to a psychiatric ward--" before I could complete my sentence, Doctor interrupted, " So, it is final then, you are going with Jerome!"
"But.." "No." We said instantly. But the doctor just walked out of the room, after waving at us, obviously.
I have an inherent fear of psychiatric ward and I am not keen on living in one for two weeks. It is not going to look good on my already ruined life record either. I wonder why was I even given a choice in this matter, interrupting my musings I heard Mr. Peters spoke up.
"So...seems like you are going to be with me for the next 2 weeks," he said awkwardly but at the same time, the mix of emotions in his tone was interesting - anger, disappointment, and...amusement?
"Sir, I..." What should I say? I cleared my throat in an attempt to clear my mind, that didn't work, screw biology. He was looking at me expectantly now. Shit, "I really don't want you to be troubled because of me. I assure you I would never do anything like...suicide. I think we can still work this out with the doctor." I said hurriedly.
He just looked at me, kept looking at me, then after a whole damn minute which I think was the stretchiest I have ever experienced, "Did you not see what that doctor is like? I would rather have you with me than in a psych ward or jail. Nobody wants an editor who's a criminal and doesn't have her head in place. You, either way, look like someone who can use some supervision."
"Oh."
He called me 'editor,' did he just promote me?
Your concerns seriously need some supervision, if not you.
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