Sometime in the evening Molly plucks up the courage to leave her room. She stops at the end of the hallway and glimpses the lights from the lounge to her far left. She's avoided that room since she became admitted and it still frightens her. She pushes open the exit door to the garden and she waits next to it as Shiloh runs around the perimeter of the high fence. He does his business and then sits and looks up at her as she considers it.
"Fine," she mutters. "But only for five minutes."
She opens the door and reluctantly turns right. Shiloh sticks to her side, almost pushing her forwards with his head. Her feet move very slowly towards the door and she timidly enters it, glancing around cautiously. The room is wide and spacious, filled with tables, chairs, lounge chairs, bean bags and snack machines. There is a soccer table against one side and two girls are playing a game with enthusiasm on their faces. On the other side there is a small library stacked with books of every genre. Molly goes there first because it looks like the quietest part of the room. Behind the shelves, there are computer stalls. That's where most of the population seems to be. Every computer stall is occupied and most of them seem to be watching videos on websites. She sees Lauren, the woman from last night, sitting at the far end stall and Lauren waves at her.
Molly waves back and shifts awkwardly as Lauren turns her computer off and leaves the stall. Lauren points towards a booth next to the window and Molly follows her over to it.
"Do we have to be quiet in here or something?" Molly whispers.
"No but they can get quite agitated if you raise your voice near them," Lauren says. "Your first time in here, huh?"
Molly nods and glances around at all the different types of people. "I had no idea the unit was this big."
"Yeah, there's about fifteen rooms," she says. "When I first came here I thought my hallway was the only hallway too."
"Are they all here for attempted suicide?" Molly stares at a boy that can't be older than fifteen, he eats pieces of fruit at a table and looks around sheepishly.
"Most of them. Seeing the kids is the worst. His name is Billy. His parents walked in on him hanging from a ceiling fan. His father ripped the fan off the wall to save his life."
"How do you know that?"
"Group therapy for under sixteens," Lauren says. "I host them sometimes; the doctors think it'll help me to try and get children to talk about their problems. I've heard many stories but that kid broke my heart."
"Bullies?" Molly mumbles.
Lauren nods. "That seems to be the theme. Makes my blood boil that the bullies get away with it, that they're not punished for what they did to them. You see that girl over there?" Lauren points her eyes towards a teenage girl with short, red hair that is reading a book on a beanbag. "A group of boys cornered her outside the mall, made her strip to her underwear to prove that she was actually a girl. They took pictures and it circulated around her school. The police got involved but they got off with a caution. Her mother was that angry that she took a crowbar down to the station and smashed their windows. She was arrested and released on bail, a day later Katie walked down to the train tracks and threw herself in front of a train. Luckily, someone moved her out of the way just in time."
Molly holds a hand to her chest. She doesn't have to imagine Katie's pain, or any of their pain, she's been there, she still feels it now. She watches as Billy walks over to her and sits beside her on a separate bean bag, Katie smiles at him and closes her book.
"The sad thing is," Lauren says, taking a deep breath. "There's that many under sixteens being admitted to the children's mental health ward that their capacity is overrun. That's why they send them here. But just like you, they'll only be here for a short time. Their parents can't afford the extra costs. So, the court will rule that they're fit for going home when the reality is that those children are the victims of underfunding and they'll probably die because of it."
"It's not right," Molly says softly. "Being suicidal isn't just something that goes away overnight, it takes a lot of hard work to resist it."
"The government doesn't care about long term solutions," Lauren says. "There's been a forty percent increase in teenage suicides in the last two years alone. The common denominator is school. All these kids are alive right now but how many didn't survive today because they're too overrun to take them? I wish someone would stand up and say enough and give them a voice."
"You could be their voice," Molly says.
"Me? No." Lauren shakes her head. "No one would listen to me."
"You have the passion and the experience. You know these kids; you know how much pain they're in." Molly swallows and plays with her fingers. "Even if it doesn't work out at least they'll know someone was on their side."
"This just suddenly got personal," Lauren says as she observes Molly's stiffness. "What's your deal? It's not suicidal kids so what else should the world be putting right?"
"I've lived in foster homes for a long time," Molly mumbles. "I've seen children and teenagers that have never been loved be forgotten about. Families want to adopt babies or toddlers not baggage. There's a boy that I live with, he's called Henley. When he was two his mother locked him outside in the yard for the entire night because he wouldn't stop crying. She slapped him so hard that she broke his cheekbone." Molly's hand curls into a fist as she struggles to find the words to say it, she takes a deep breath and calms herself. "And on the day she took him to hospital, the day that social services finally took him off her, she was that drunk that she thought his legs were his arms and she dragged him backwards through the parking lot and down the hospital corridors. He was that scared that he wouldn't let go of the doctor's leg." Molly wipes underneath her eye and her chest trembles as she breathes.
"I can't even imagine. . ." Lauren glances away.
"He is the sweetest boy in the world," Molly whispers. "And. . . he's never known love, not until he met us anyway. But families won't adopt him because they consider him to be too old and his past too traumatic. And Lily. . . her chances are even less. I just want them to find the family that they should have had all along."
"What if they already have?"
"It doesn't work like that," Molly says sadly. "It's a temporary placement, they'll be moved to an area where their chances of adoption might be greater. In my experience it rarely happens."
"That's so sad," Lauren says. "Makes me feel bad for having a family at all."
"Same," Molly agrees. "But it's one thing to feel bad for them and it's another to do something about it, right?"
Lauren smiles before she sighs. "Right. I'll be the voice for the suicidal teenagers and you can be the voice for the forgotten foster kid epidemic. We're gonna change the world, Molly."
Molly laughs. "Unlikely. But we might change the world for a few and that's enough."
The lights suddenly switch off and Lauren leans out of her chair and peers her head towards the other side of the room. "It's eight 'o'clock, that means it's movie time. This place is nothing if not consistent."
"What movie?"
"Something old and boring by the looks of it. Oh no, wait, it's the Wizard of Oz! I love that movie."
"I've never seen it," Molly mumbles. "I've heard of it though."
Lauren widens her eyes in shock and then jumps up from the chair. "Girl come with me, you're about to have yourself the experience of a lifetime."
Molly follows her over to the other side of the room. She slides to the right as the group pushes the tables and chairs against the far wall. Blankets and pillows are laid across the floor, positioned in front of an enormous television screen that they drag forwards. Everyone begins sitting on the blankets with their drinks and snacks and Molly finds a place at the back next to Lauren. Shiloh lays next to her and she strokes him as she stares at the young girl on the screen who also has a dog.
"Feel free to leave if you're bored," Lauren whispers. "I don't usually stick around for these."
"I'm not bored. It's nice."
Molly follows the trail of a red light flashing on the ceiling and she sees the security cameras stationed around the room. She wonders if Doctor Alan is watching this, if he'd be proud of her, no doubt she will hear about it tomorrow. But it doesn't matter what he thinks because she's proud of herself. Interacting with people and talking always makes her anxious and bare, but these people are just like her. Human.
Molly watches the movie curiously, remaining observant and interested. Her reactions mimic everyone else's. Whether it's laughter, gasping, or quietness from the saddest scenes she's ever witnessed. Tears stroll down her face and she looks over to see Lauren repeating Dorothy's goodbye lines back to herself. Molly had managed to get through the entire movie without breaking, until the ending.
"There's no place like home."
Molly's entire body paralyses. The image of 'home' is at the front of her mind and she can't escape it. The flower wall paint, the wooden oak doors, the swing on the front porch that her father built one sunny afternoon. Her bedroom, painted white with warm fairy lights twinkling around her bed post. The kitchen where her sister cooked most of their meals, mainly to gain experience, where the family ate together and awkward questions were asked followed by hysterical laughter. And the lounge, where they had family night, where they curled up in blankets and watched. . .
Molly takes a look around the room and finds herself in the company of so many strangers that she can't take it. Her breathing becomes heavier and she starts to feel the dizziness. She gets up and charges out of the door, she stops in the middle of the hallway and lays her hand flat on the wall as she takes short breaths.
"Molly? Are you okay? Do you need me to call for someone?" Lauren is behind her but Molly can't look.
"No I'm fine," she lies. "This happens sometimes. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay."
Molly continues down the hallway and opens the door to her cubical, the dog squeezes through at the last moment and Molly locks herself in. She slides down to her knees and lets the cry come out. It's almost a scream but she contains it at the last second. She wraps her arms around the dog as he pushes himself into her stomach and then she lays down on the floor holding her chest that feels so tight she can hardly breathe.
She just wants the pain to go away, she cries it out until she's out of air. The dog disappears for a moment and then suddenly the room is coated in a horrifying buzzing noise. It only lasts for a few seconds but merely a minute later there is a knock on her door. When she doesn't answer the person uses a key to unlock it and walks right in.
"Can I turn the light on?" Alan asks quietly.
Molly nods as she pushes herself against the wall. She cradles her knees to her chest and rocks. "Don't you ever go home?" Molly says with resentment. "You're lucky to have one, you should be there!"
"If I was there I wouldn't be able to help you, would I?" Alan kneels down on the floor, putting a wide distance between them. "The dog is only trained to sound that alarm when he feels like you're close to hurting yourself."
"That's stupid," Molly mutters. "The dog can't know that."
"You'd be surprised what dogs can sense. He wasn't wrong was he?"
Molly shakes her head and rests it on her knees. "I thought I could do this, I thought I was getting better with triggers. But it's pointless. The pain is still there, it won't go away. It hurts so much."
"Of course the pain is still there. You still lost your family that hasn't changed. Only now you're finally experiencing that pain in waves rather than all at once. The triggers are always going to be a problem because you're human, Molly. But that pain will go just like it did before because you will eventually forget what triggered it."
"I just want it to stop," she cries. "I wish I could forget them; I wish I could forget our home and my entire childhood because that's the only way I'd be able to. . ."
"Live," Alan whispers.
Molly trembles at the word. She squeezes her fingers into her stomach and she cries harder. The doctor is watching her heart break right in front of him and there's nothing he can do or say to change it. She didn't know there was anything left to break but her body isn't through with surprising her.
"You know, I tried to kill myself once." Alan crawls over to her and sits beside her with his back against the wall. "It was a very long time ago just after my first wife left me. I thought I had nothing. That she was my whole life and without her it wasn't worth living. I bought three bottles of vodka and drank them all within thirty minutes. It wasn't until that last drop of the last bottle that I sat and thought, 'I've made a mistake.' If I had tried to kill myself a different way then I don't think I'd have been saved because it was that pause between life and death that made me really think about what I wanted. It was that pause that made me call the ambulance on myself. Knowing you can't undo something is the most terrifying thought that will go through your mind. And I wonder if that same thought went through your mind when you let go of that bridge."
Molly stares at him. It did, she remembers the moment Charlie grabbed her wrists and the flash of relief that came over her, just for a millisecond. Hanging there was her pause between life and death and all she did was panic about not being killed. She didn't regret it but maybe, subconsciously, she was also hanging on to give the life side another chance.
"Do you believe in fate, Molly?" he asks her.
"Maybe. I'm not sure."
"I don't think that it was just a coincidence that Charlie was there at the same time on that bridge Friday night. Just like it wasn't a coincidence that my gun suddenly wouldn't work so I walked to the supermarket instead. Something saved us, not just the physical people like Charlie or the paramedics but something else. And for all these years I have truly believed that it was my parents. They're watching over us; they always have been. We wanted to die and fate intervened, it's the biggest cliché of the modern world but sometimes it's the only explanation."
"Why would fate save me?" she mutters quietly.
"Because it sees something in you that you don't. Miracles don't happen every day but however you want to look at it, that boy was a miracle."
Molly wipes her last tears on her sleeve and she smiles. She never considered that Charlie saving her would be fate or that it could have been her family that sent him to her, that somehow inspired him to take that direction, to turn around at the last second and walk back to her. But now she finds comfort in it. She feels a lot better than she did five minutes ago and the pain is gone. It will return again and she doesn't know when that will be or what will trigger it but she'll be ready for it next time. She looks up at the half-moon casting gentle light through the blinds.
"I believe that I was saved so that I could save you," Alan admits. "It's one of fate's many chain reactions and it's a new phenomenon in some parts of the world, though not massively studied due to the haunting linger of coincidence."
"I feel better you can stop now." Molly grins and he laughs. "Thank you."
"Get some sleep, I'll come back to check on you in the morning."
She waits until he leaves before she slides her back up the padded, soft wall. She walks over to her night stand and she takes out her cell phone, along with the piece of paper with Charlie's number on it. Her hands shake as she starts dialling, and she leans back against a pillow with the phone pressed to her ear.
"Hello?" a voice says. His voice.
She hyperventilates and hangs up. She throws the phone towards the end of the bed and folds her arms. Her heart races as it starts to vibrate. She stares at it, and then picks it up. She bites on her nail as she swipes across the screen. She puts the phone back to her ear and her heart stops all together.
"Hello?" Charlie says, again. "You rang me? Anyone there?"
Molly takes a deep breath accidentally.
"Molly?"
She covers her mouth and goes to end the call, but he continues, making her pause.
"I don't know if it's a bad signal or something but I can't hear you. It might be my phone; I've dropped it that many times it's probably got irreversible damage. I hope everything's okay. I'll hang up and text you."
Molly flings the phone to her ear. "No, wait. I'm here."
"Ah, there you are. What's up?"
"I'm sorry I know it's late and that we only talked a few hours ago," she says, while her leg kicks against the bed and her fingernails dig into her teeth. "I just had a. . . I don't really know what to call it."
"Um...?"
"You know earlier when you said when you felt angry the first thing you wanted to do was to come talk to me?"
"Yeah."
"Well. Me too. It wasn't anger, but. . . well, it didn't feel like I'd survive it. I thought I was having a heart attack."
"Jesus, are you okay now?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she says, trying to sound more cheerful than she feels. "I don't know, I just. . . needed to talk to you."
"I'm honoured. Makes me feel a little less crazy for just showing up earlier. I am pretty exhausted though so I don't think you'll get much out of me for long."
"It's fine. I just wanted to hear your voice." Molly slaps her head. "I'm sorry, that's a really strange thing to say. Just forget I said that."
Charlie laughs. "Not strange at all, my voice is very soothing said no one ever."
Molly slaps her head again and holds the phone a little tighter. "You should go to sleep with me, I mean go to sleep! I will be going to sleep too."
"Okay," he laughs even harder. "I'll give you a call tomorrow alright? And stop slapping your head or I'll tell your therapist."
"Alright," Molly says, laughing more at herself than with him. "I should be free after four."
"After four it is, make sure your battery's charged because I despair at disappointment."
"It'll be charged. Goodnight."
"Night."
She disconnects quickly and throws the phone on her nightstand. There is a giddy feeling rising in her stomach, it's mostly embarrassment but mainly it's pride mixed with a splash of happiness. His voice is like the key to her emotional switches, all of the locks that she keeps hidden within her, he is opening. One by one they are unlocking. He's made her braver than she ever thought she could be and it's only just the start.