The Aftermath

PART ONE

I groggily opened my eyes and looked around, trying to make some kind of sense of my surroundings. I was in a room that was pale in colour, mostly white. There were all sorts of machines next to the bed I was lying in, and there were various tubes attached to my arm, face and chest. I was in hospital. I should have guessed, I had seen enough rooms like this one during my training at university. There was someone sitting in a chair next to my bed, a man. He looked like he was sleeping.

I shut my eyes and thought back to what had happened, why I was in here. What had I done wrong? The doses I had taken, combined with the wine should have been enough. It was enough. What had happened? The dream ... it must have been a dream ... it had seemed so real. I had seen my own funeral, my family and friends. This couldn’t be happening. I couldn’t still be here. I didn’t want to be. I could feel tears slowly running down my cheek. The man in the chair spoke, my eyes opening in surprise.

"Sam, you’re awake?"

I looked up at Paul. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days, unshaven and red-eyed. But he still smiled when he saw me looking at him. I looked away, not wanting to see him, to see anyone.

"Samantha, please look at me." I didn’t move. "I’m glad you’re okay, you had me so scared. Please, say something."

Without looking at him I said what I was thinking. "Go away."

I shut my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep, praying that I wouldn’t wake up again.

When I opened my eyes again Paul was gone, the chair was empty. There was a doctor looking at the chart hanging on the end of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked when she saw that I was awake.

"Like crap."

"I’m not surprised. You’re lucky to be alive."

"Am I? I guess most people will think that," I said.

"They do. You obviously don’t agree." The doctor came over to the bed and checked the drip. The she looked at me, seemingly waiting for me to say something.

"No," I said. "I don’t."

"You must have been pretty serious, that was a deadly combination of pills you took."

"Then what happened?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" The doctor looked at me.

"How did I get here? Why am I alive?"

The doctor sat down and told me everything that had happened. Four days ago I had tried to kill myself by taking a mixture of pills and wine. I knew what I was doing, as a medical student I knew the right combination to be deadly. That’s why I didn’t understand why I was here. It was what happened after this that the doctor filled me in on.

She told me that Kelly, my flat mate, had come home from work early and found me in my room. She tried to wake me up but when she couldn’t she called an ambulance. Kelly had found the bottles of pills and gave them over to the doctors so they knew how to treat me. The doctors had pumped my stomach and given me stuff to counter the drugs that I had ingested. Everything had worked and it seemed that I might be okay. Apparently I had only been unconscious for a matter of minutes before Kelly had come home. Any longer and it would have been too late.

"You know," said the doctor, "I think that this is some kind of sign. So many little things just happened to go your way ... your friend getting off work early and just catching the bus as it was leaving, the ambulance being only a suburb away after a false alarm ... it seems like someone up there is looking out for you."

PART TWO

The next day the doctor, her name was Jenny, filled me in on what had happened while I was unconscious. She was trying to make me see how lucky I was, how good it was that I was alive. I didn’t see it that way.

She told me that Paul had stayed by my side for two days, arriving as soon as he had heard. Jenny told me that he was worried about me, refusing to leave until he knew I was okay, until I told him to go. Kelly had been here too, as well as my parents.

"They’re all still here if you want to see them," she said.

"No, I don’t want to see anyone." I didn’t want to have to explain myself. I knew what would happen, my parents would blame themselves, everyone would feel somehow responsible and want to know why I did it. I didn’t want to deal with any of that.

"Alright," Jenny said. "But I want you to talk to someone. There’s a ..."

"I know." I cut her off. "Regulations say that all suicide cases have to talk to a psych specialist." We had that drilled into us at uni.

"Do you want me to go and get him now?"

"Why not. I’m obviously not doing anything else." Jenny left to go and get the psychiatrist, leaving me alone with a million thoughts rattling around in my head. A few minutes later she returned, a man following her.

"Samantha, this is Jason Symonds. I’ll leave you to have a bit of a chat." Jenny left, closing the door behind her.

"Hi. Do you mind?" Jason asked, pointing to the empty chair. I shook my head and he sat down. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"I don’t know," I answered truthfully. "I don’t want to be here. That’s all I can tell you."

"Here as in the hospital?" he asked.

"No, here as in alive. But I guess you already know that."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"About what? Wanting to die?" I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

"Anything. What you’re feeling, thinking. You can tell me whatever you want to, but you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to. It’s totally up to you." He leaned back in the chair.

I sort of did want to talk, I thought that maybe it would make things clearer in my own head. So I just started talking, telling him about Steve, the siege and Scott. I didn’t tell him everything, just gave him sort of an outline of what happened. He said nothing, just listened. When I stopped he handed me a tissue. I hadn’t even realised I was crying.

"I’m sorry," I said.

"Don’t be. It’s perfectly okay for you to react like this. Have you seen your family yet?"

"No, I can’t."

For a little while we talked about Paul. I don’t know why, but I told Jason about what we’d been through and the letter I’d written him.

"And he’s been to see you?" Jason asked.

"That’s what the doctor said. She said he was here the whole time. He was sitting where you are now when I woke up. I told him to go away."

"Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know, I just couldn’t face him."

"It seems like he cares about you. I’m not saying that you have to talk to him, but you might want to consider it. Sometimes talking to someone who cares for you can help."

A few minutes later he left, after we made an appointment for the next day. I lay there, thinking about everything he said. It did help a little to talk to him, but it didn’t change my wishing that I had died.

Jenny stuck her head in the door. "How’d it go?" she asked.

"Okay I guess. I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve ever done this before ... I have nothing to compare it to." I thought for a moment before asking the doctor if she would do something for me. When she heard what I wanted she smiled.

"Sure, of course. Just a minute." She left me alone, hoping that I was doing the right thing. A few moments later the door opened again.

"Umm ... hi," said Paul as he came into the room.

PART THREE

"Hi," I said. Paul came in and sat in the chair next to my bed.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I don’t know ... okay. Tired."

"I meant what I said yesterday, I really am glad that you’re okay." He paused. "Even if you aren’t."

"What makes you think I’m not glad to be okay?" I asked.

"Sam, it’s clear on your face. You don’t want to be here." He looked down at his hands then back at me. "I got your letter. I knew that there was something wrong but I had no idea how miserable you were." I looked away, unable to stand the tears in his eyes. "I wish you’d told me."

"Why?" I asked. "What difference would it have made?"

"I don’t know, maybe none. I just ... you were hurting enough to want to die. For all I know you still are." He reached out and took my hand. "Sam ... you didn’t have to go through it by yourself. Why didn’t you talk to me?"

"Because I didn’t want to. I didn’t want you to try and get me to change my mind, it would have been a waste of time."

"You wanted to die so badly that telling me about it, me trying to help you ... that would have been a waste of time?"

"You couldn’t help me, no one could. I told you that in the letter. I’ve caused so much pain to innocent people. Before you say anything, yes I know that what I did, killing myself, might have caused more pain, but I don’t care. People would have gotten over it."

"Do you think so? You have no idea how much everyone cares about you do you?" Paul asked.

There was only silence for a while. I didn’t know what to say, there was so much going on in my head but I couldn’t find the words to express myself. I wanted to make him understand why I did it. I honestly did think that people would get over it, whereas I could never forgive myself for what happened, what I caused.

"Mikey said to say hello and he hopes you get better soon," Paul said.

"Oh. Does he know what happened?"

"No. I just told him that you were in hospital. He thinks you’re sick."

"How is he?" I asked.

"Good. You know that he’s fully recovered now. He’s doing well."

"That’s good." I stared at the ceiling. There was another pause, slightly uncomfortable.

"So ... what are you going to do now?" Paul asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to try and get well ... or is there just no point?" Paul sounded a little bitter.

"I don’t know. Paul, you don’t understand. I tried to explain it in the letter I sent you. After what happened ... I can’t shake the knowledge that I’m responsible. After Scott ..."

"You saw no other way out?" Paul asked.

"Yeah. Dying was the least painful option, for everyone."

"How can you say that? Sam, do you have any idea what you’d miss if you die? You have such a bright future, you’re smart ... an amazing woman."

"Don’t you get it? From where I’m sitting I have no future. Everything in my life was destroyed or thrown around. What the hell do I have that’s worth living for?" I was almost shouting, tears streaming down my face. Paul let go of my hand and stood up, staring down at me.

"Well for a while there I thought you had me ... but I guess I was mistaken." With that he left.

PART FOUR

The next time that I saw the doctor I asked her about the one thing that I had been trying not to think about, but that I had to know. I asked her about the baby, expecting to be told that they had to abort it when I was brought in to the hospital. Jenny’s answer shocked me.

"Amazingly you’re still pregnant. The OD didn’t effect the pregnancy although we can’t be certain about the state of the foetus. It’s too early to tell the effects that the drugs will have had on it." She paused for a moment and looked at me. "So you knew you were pregnant when you did this?"

"Yes." I told her about Steve raping me. Even thinking back to it was enough to make me want to be sick.

"Do you know what you want to do now?" she asked.

"No. I don’t really want to think about it yet."

"Okay, well if you want to talk about your options, just give me a buzz." Jenny left.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for the doctor to come in with my release papers. She didn’t think I was ready, but I couldn’t stand being in the hospital for another day. Kelly was with me and we were talking about the things that had happened. After I was brought here Kelly had tried calling Paul to let him know, but hadn’t been able to contact him for two days. He had flown straight in when he heard and hadn’t left the hospital until after I woke up ... he didn’t come back after walking out the day we argued. No one had heard from him since.

I met with Jason, the psychiatrist, everyday. He had given me the name of a councillor and had set up an appointment for the next day. Talking to him did help me a little, but I was still unsure of what I would do. I still felt that I would be better off dead and sometimes I began planning things in my head, this time something that would really work. Right now it just felt like no matter what I decided to do, it would be the wrong thing.

Today I was being released on the condition that I get regular counselling. I was going to stay with my parents in Sydney. I think they asked me to, mostly so that they could keep an eye on me. It might do me good to be with them for a bit. Of course I hadn’t told them about the baby. Only Paul knew about that. It was yet another thing that I was very unsure of. I didn’t know how to deal with being pregnant with Steve’s baby.

Two hours later I said goodbye to Kelly at the airport.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" she said as we hugged. "And Sam, please call me."

"I will. I wish I could say how long I’d be gone, but I don’t know." We waved goodbye as I boarded the plane with my parents.

The flight was uncomfortable, to say the least. Neither of my parents seemed to know what to say or do. They’d begin to say something then either stop or mumble. In the end I gave up and put my headphones on. I shut my eyes and tried to sleep.

When we got home I took my bag up to my room and sat on the bed, hearing the familiar creak of the mattress. I looked around the room I grew up in, the desk in the corner, the dressing table and the blue curtains. In an instant I had tears in my eyes, wishing that I could be ten years old again. To have parents who would do anything to protect me from people like Steve, to be safe. I stood up and went to my window, which overlooked the beach. I watched the people as they walked and played on the sand. Parents with their kids, they all seemed so happy, so carefree. I’d give anything in the world to be like them again ... anything.

I went back to the bed, lay down and cried myself to sleep.

PART FIVE

The next morning I was awake early. I went downstairs and found my mum cooking breakfast, something I don’t think I’d ever seen her do before. She asked if I wanted some eggs but I settled for coffee. I hadn’t eaten breakfast in years, usually due to a lack of time. I sat at the bench and drank, watching mum. We chatted about small things like the weather, how the Swans were going, dad’s new contract … things that she considered to be ‘safe’ topics.

I looked around the kitchen. Not much had changed since I moved out … in fact the whole house was pretty much the same as it had been all those years ago. It was a huge house, too big for just the three of us but I loved it. It overlooked the beach. Mum and dad had worked hard to be able to afford it, but they now had well paying jobs, actually they were quite well off. Dad owned his own construction company and mum was an architect. I hadn’t been spoilt as a child, but I never lacked anything I needed.

I finished my coffee and went upstairs to shower and change. As I got dressed I unpacked my bag, hanging clothes in the cupboard and putting my makeup and brush on the dressing table. I looked at myself in the mirror, I looked tired with dark circles under my eyes. My face was thin and pale. I grabbed my jacket and bag, and headed back downstairs.

"Where are you off to?" Mum asked as I came back into the kitchen.

"I’m just going for a walk, maybe along the beach. I might go and see some old friends. I haven’t decided yet."

"Well take this." She handed me her mobile phone, which I put in my bag. I think she was worried that I would do something ‘stupid’. "And don’t forget your appointment this afternoon" she called as I was leaving.

"I won’t" I called back. "I’ll be home around five." I waved as I closed the door behind me.

Half an hour later I was walking along the beach, my coat wrapped around me to protect me from the cold wind. I found a secluded spot and sat down, watching the waves crashing on the sand.

There was so much I had to think about. What was I going to do … about the baby, about myself? I knew that I had people willing to help me get through this is I wanted to, the problem was that I wasn’t sure that I wanted to get through it. I was so miserable, in so much pain. But what Paul had said to me really affected me. There were people who would be upset if I died … I just didn’t know what to do.

I stood up and started to walk again, limping slightly. The cold air was making my knee hurt a bit. I walked to the nearest bus stop and checked the times. When the bus I was after came along I climbed on and sat down. In the city I changed busses. As I sat down I began to wonder whether I was doing the right thing. My hands were sweating, I was really nervous. I checked my map and the address again to make sure I knew where I was going. I pressed the button and the bus began to slow down.

I stood watching the bus drive away, and then I looked around. Just across the road was the beach. I hadn’t been here in years, except for once. I walked past the café where Paul and I had met that day. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

I followed the street signs until I came to the building I was looking for. I went up to the second floor, found the right door and stood in front of it. Why were my hands shaking? I didn’t have any reason to be scared did I? I raised my hand and knocked on the door.