Charlie sits silently against a window in the reception of the mental health unit. He has seen doctors, visitors, crazy people and more crazy people coming out of the unit but not Molly. That must be good, it must mean that they believed him.
His arm is in a sling after a physical examination concluded that he's torn a muscle in his shoulder. He's been given painkillers to ease the pain and the police have been waiting until he's ready to give his statement. They're still talking with Molly's foster parents and the couple seem too lost to speak. The lady hasn't stopped crying since she got here. They must really care about her.
Charlie yawns and closes his eyes. It only takes a matter of seconds before he's asleep.
"Are you ready for me to take your statement now?"
Charlie flinches and opens his eyes. The attractive, blonde policewoman is hovering above him with a notepad at the ready. He nods.
"Thanks to you we were able to trace Molly's guardians through the school," Jo says. "They're talking to the doctor now. She isn't going to be alone anymore. I just thought you should know that."
"That's good," Charlie says. "The statement?"
"Right. So can you tell me in your own words what happened last night on the bridge?"
Charlie takes a deep breath and starts talking. He just wants to get it over with. He explains that he was walking home from a night in town and was crossing the bridge when he saw Molly climb up onto the ledge. He explains that something didn't feel right about it and that he was acting on instinct. He talks for so long that his heart begins to race as he recalls the details. He's reliving it all over again when he just wants to forget it ever happened.
"Did she say anything about why she was up there?" Jo asks.
"Something about her family," Charlie says. "She said they wanted her to do it or that they were okay with it. Obviously, I didn't know at the time that her family was. . ." Charlie swallows, glancing away.
"How did she seem?"
"What do you mean?"
"Was there anything she was doing or saying that seemed erratic?"
"She was standing on a fricken' bridge readying herself to jump from it," Charlie says through clench teeth. "Isn't that enough clarification?"
"Yes," she says quietly. "But was there anything else that stood out? Did she say anything that could point to her being a risk to other people rather than herself? How depressed did she seem?"
"I just told you everything that happened," Charlie says angrily. "She said that hands let go and then her hands let go. They let go of the wall and I saw a girl believing one thousand percent that dying was her only way out. So I'm sorry that I didn't pay much attention to her state of mind but I was too concerned with the water beneath her body."
"I think I have all I need," she says, rising from the chair. "Thank you for your cooperation. If you remember anything else don't hesitate to call."
"She isn't a danger to anyone," Charlie says. "She's just broken."
The policewoman smiles, ignoring that. "You should be proud of yourself. Your actions saved that girl's life. You're a hero."
Charlie's nose twitches. There it is. That word. The word he was dreading. He doesn't feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't feel glad or proud or anything else he should feel. He just feels like a fraud.
Charlie stares down at his fingers and whispers one thing. "I didn't save her."
The policewoman doesn't hear it, no one does. It wasn't meant to be heard but it's the truth. As he watches the police finally leave the hospital he wonders what he's still doing here. What purpose or right does he have to still be here? And yet he can't seem to get up or move or leave.
Get a grip, Charlie tells himself. You need to go.
He stands to leave but just as he does the couple from across the room start approaching him with the doctor. He pauses near the door and they walk right over to him, purposely. What now?
"Hello," the man says. "I'm Daniel, this is my wife Pam. We just wanted to thank you for what you did for our foster daughter."
"It was nothing," Charlie whispers. "I'm just glad she's getting the help she needs."
"She's alive because of you," Pam says softly, on the verge of tears. "We can't thank you enough. She'll be out in five days so hopefully-"
"What?" Charlie hisses, glaring at the doctor standing beside them. "Five days? I thought this was a hospital not a bed and breakfast."
The doctor holds his head high. "Molly is sticking to her story that she fell," he says. "We can't hold her for more than five days if she seems fine."
"That's bullshit," Charlie says. "You're killing that girl if you let her go."
"That's why we came over," Pam says. "Molly wants to see you, you're the only person that she'll talk to. That she'll tell the truth to. We need your help to get through to her."
"How can you be sure she'll tell me anything?" Charlie says. "She hates me for stopping her."
"Isn't it worth it to try?" Pam pleas.
"Look, I haven't slept in over twenty-four hours, I have a torn shoulder, I'm on heavy painkillers and I think I've already done my part. I feel for the girl, I do, but this isn't my problem."
"Alright," Daniel says, glancing at the doctor. "We'll have to find another way. Thank you, Charlie and sorry for bothering you with this."
Charlie stands still in the doorway, his head once again deciding something that he hasn't thought through. This whole thing is beginning to annoy him now but there must be a reason that he's stuck around waiting until she wasn't alone, until she had someone there. And if she's refusing to see them and will only talk to him then she's still alone.
Charlie sighs. "I'll talk to her once, okay? But that's it then I'm gone."
"We understand," Daniel says with relief. "We appreciate it."
The doctor smiles and points his hand to the locked, unit door. "This way."
Charlie follows him through the door and onto the hallway. The walls are banging with high-pitched voices and screeching sounds of chaos. He clenches his teeth as he tries to block it out. The doctor stops outside a door, a quieter room, and then hands him a dark blue rucksack.
"These are her belongings," he says. "Just talk to her normally, don't say anything to aggravate her or to stress her out. I'll be waiting outside so if you need help just knock."
Charlie holds the bag tightly as he nods and then he takes a deep breath before opening the door. The room is a padded light grey prison with one window, one bed and a desk against the far corner. There are two leather chairs in the middle of the room facing each other and Charlie wonders if that's for therapy sessions.
Molly is laying on the bed, facing away from him. He closes the door behind him and she turns over, blinking softly.
"I didn't think you'd still be here," she says.
"Neither did I," Charlie says. "I brought your things." He drops the bag at the end of the bed and she doesn't even look at it. She keeps her eyes on his until she becomes uncomfortable and glances at something else.
"Your arm," she whispers. "Is it serious?"
"Just a torn muscle. I'll be healed in no time. Why did you ask to see me?"
"I wanted to make sure you were alright," she says. "We'll probably never see each other again after today so. . . it just felt right that we said goodbye."
Charlie doesn't know how to take that. "We'll see each other at school after you get better."
She smiles, biting on her lip. "That's not what I meant."
"I know what you meant," Charlie says. "You're not fooling anyone, you know? You can lie all you want but the doctors and your foster parents know the truth. They care about you; your foster mother hasn't stopped crying since she arrived. They thought they'd lost you."
"They've known me for a few months," Molly mutters. "It's not real."
"It is real. Whether you want to believe it or not you matter to people. You make an impact on their lives."
"Why do you care all of a sudden?" she says. "You said you didn't."
"I care because I don't want to be sat in class one day and a teacher comes in and tells everyone that you're dead!" he shouts. "I don't want to sit there, hearing that, knowing that I could have made a difference if I had just tried a little bit harder. I'm not a damn doctor, I'm not going to be soft with you or use a quiet and calming voice. I will tell you honestly that you are making a mistake. Life is hard but you've got years to figure it out."
"I've been figuring it out!" she yells back. "Life isn't hard, Charlie it's impossible. Do you think I can just wake up one day and change everything I feel? I go through this hell every single day and no one understands it but me!"
"Then help me to understand! Help me to understand why you don't want to live, Molly. What are you afraid of?"
"Everything," she screams. Tears fill her eyes and she starts breathing heavily, she holds a hand to her chest and Charlie knows he's gone too far.
Charlie calms himself as he watches her break. She cries to herself as she pushes her knees to her chin and Charlie steps towards her. This is a first for him and he doesn't know how to support her. He sits beside her on the bed and he folds his working arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest.
"It's okay," he says. "You're safe."
His hand rubs against her shoulder and then he moves it to the back of her head. Somewhere in the chaos they lay down and she claws her hand into his shirt as she cries more quietly. Eventually it is silent and her body becomes still as she falls asleep.
Charlie closes his eyes. He hasn't laid on a bed in a very long time and the comfort is taking him away, too. He knows he should probably leave, go home and sleep in his own bed but there's just something about this moment that feels right. He wants to go home but he can't leave her, not yet. Not like this.
Before he's even aware that it's happened Charlie's mind takes him some place else. And he falls asleep with Molly by his side.