New LowMature

A boy about eighteen years old attempts suicide and is saved by an unlikely person.

         The morning air was frigid and when you breathed your breath became visible. The sun was up in the sky, sending weak little rays of heat towards the Earth. The school campus was practically empty this early in the morning. Most people didn't have a zero period class.

          But I did. I gripped my tea in my hands as I walked across the basketball courts. The thermos made my hands warm as I held it. The cold air failed to chill me through my many layers of pajama bottoms and jackets. My slippers scuffed along the pavement as I walked. Today I wanted to be lazy. There was nothing better than being lazy. I glanced at the tennis courts and noticed that there was someone there. Not wanting to interfere, I kept walking. As I got closer, I saw that it was a boy. I glanced at my cell phone and saw that I was a few minutes late to class. Sighing, I took a chance and glanced at the boy again. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt and pants. His shoes were DC brand and looked slightly expensive. He was wearing a hat that was also DC brand and it covered his face. I began to wonder if he was cold.

          Then that's when I noticed it. Around his wrist was a puddle of blood. I dropped all my stuff and got my cell phone out again. As I called the police, I ran into the tennis courts and started to take my jacket off.

          "Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?" asked the operator calmly.

          "Someone has attempted suicide by cutting their wrists! I'm at Bernard High School in the tennis courts. What do I do?" I questioned, kneeling down by the boy. "It's cold out here and he's wearing I short sleeved shirt! He's bleeding a lot. Should I apply pressure?"

          "Calm down. We have paramedics on the way. Can you cover him with something? Apply pressure to his wound or wounds and elevate his arms above his head. What's your name?" she asked, remaining calm.

          "My name is Shiloh. I put my jacket around him and now I'm pressing on his wounds. What now?" I questioned, beginning to panic.

          The time seemed to pass by slowly as I tried to keep the boy alive. I did what the operator instructed. Sometimes it was feeling for a pulse and other times it was checking temperature. Soon I heard sirens approaching quickly. The operator left me alone with the boy and nothing else. The principal of the school came out with the deans and stood by me questioning my presence there. I gave them my story and cried. I didn't want this stranger to die.

          As they loaded the boy into the ambulance, I asked them if I could go along too. They looked at each other and deliberated. Obviously they didn't want me to go, but they did at the same time. Blood was smeared all over my hands and clothes. I couldn't help but cry when I noticed how much blood he had lost. Finally they came to the agreement that I could go to the hospital with the boy. I got in the ambulance as they rushed to the hospital. They worked on him in a busy fashion, ignoring me as they did so.

          This morning had started off so well except for the lateness. I hadn't thought that I would witness a suicide attempt and, hopefully, save a person. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. Before I knew it, we were already at the hospital and I was being rushed in the opposite direction of him. They seated me in the waiting room while they took him into the emergency room. Cops came soon after and questioned me. I gave them my story about what had happened and why I had been there. When they were done, they notified my parents about what had happened. Soon I wasn't alone. My parents were there within hours.

          "Shiloh! What happened? Has he come out?" my mother questioned, hugging me close to her. "Do you know who the boy is?"

          I shook my head.

          "I'm glad you're alright!" exclaimed my mother, becoming dramatic.

          "Why wouldn't I be alright? I'm not the one that attempted suicide," I replied, glancing at my dad. "Can I stay here with him? He doesn't have anyone yet."

          They both glanced at each other and then my dad spoke.

          "I don't think that's a good idea, sweetie."

          "But I want to see him when he comes out! I want to know that I saved him and that he's alright!"

          "Well fine, but you can't stay overnight with him. We won't allow that."

          I nodded in agreement and watched as the emergency room doors opened.

          "Are you the parents?" asked the surgeon, removing his face mask.

          "No, we aren't related to him. I'm the one who found him. How is he? Did he lose a lot of blood?" I asked, feeling anxious.

          "He lost quite a bit, but he was lucky you were there to help him. We have him on a blood and saline solution so that should help him recover. He may not be able to move his hand well after it has healed, but he will survive," he replied, shaking his head. "Do you know why he did this?"

          "No. I don't even know him. Can I go see him?"

          "Yes. He's in room one hundred and three. Ask the nurse there for directions. I would like to talk to your parents..."

          I was off as soon as he gave me the room number. There were five nurses at the front desk waiting for something to do. When I walked up, they looked partially excited.

          "Hello. Do you need any help?" asked a red-headed nurse, smiling sweetly.

          "I'm looking for room one hundred and three," I answered, smiling back.

          "Right this way," she replied, coming out from behind the counter.

          She led me down the corridor past all the other patient rooms. As we walked by, I glanced into the rooms and saw that the people in them were severely injured. People were being rushed by on beds and families were crying. This was definitely somewhere I didn't want to be submitted.

          "Here you are," she stated, motioning to the room. "Let me know if you need anything."

          I merely nodded and spotted the boy laying in the bed across the room by the window. Quickly walking to him, my breathing sped up. Would he know who I was? Probably not. He was unconscious when I found him and helped him. There was something about his whole situation that made me interested to know him. As I approached, I noticed that they had him tied to the hospital bed as a precaution. He looked up at me, annoyance filling his tired bloodshot eyes.

          "Who are you?" he asked as I sat down next to his bed.

          "I'm the person who saved you," I replied, smiling nervously.

          Anger flickered in his eyes as he took in my appearance. I was still covered in his blood and I had my dark hair up in a messy bun. My makeup was gone from all the crying. I probably looked like shit.

          "What's your name?" he questioned coolly.


          "Like the stupid dog?"

          I froze. What was wrong with this boy?

          "I didn't want to be saved, you know. I was perfectly fine with dying. You had to go and ruin that. Now I can't ever show my face back at school."

          "Why did you try to do that? Life can't really be that bad, can it?"

          "It's worse than you can possibly imagine. My life is hell compared to what your life is probably like. Besides, I don't even go to Bernard High School. I go to Preline High."

          "Why did you come to Bernard then?"

          "That's none of your business! I don't have to tell you anything! I never asked for your help! You're covered that my blood?"

          I looked down at my clothes and then back at him. "Yeah. I had to elevate your arms and apply pressure to your wrist so that you wouldn't lose anymore blood. I used my jacket to cover you so that you wouldn't get colder."

          "Why would you try and save someone you don't even know and ruin your clothes over it?"

          "I didn't want you to die."

          He stared at me for a moment and then looked away. The sun was shining outside as he stared out the window. He looked different without his hat. His hair was thick and medium length. It was straight and messy. When he glanced back at me, I noticed that his eyes were a rich brown color.

          "If you decide to talk, let me know. I'm leaving my number here on this table. I'll be back okay?"

          "Don't bother," he snapped, looking away again.

          I scribbled my name and number down on a piece of paper. Then I left it on the table and looked at him for a moment.

          "Can you at least tell me your name?" I asked, shifting my feet.

          "My name is Tanner," he replied, scowling at me. "Don't make fun of my name, got it?"

          "I wasn't going to make fun of it. I like your name. You better get some rest. You're going to need it," I replied, leaving the room.

          As I walked down the hall I realized that I had just promised him I'd be back. That was going to cause some conflict with my parents. A large conflict.

The End

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