"He has to stay here for at least a week," the Doctor said. "We have to watch him. To see if he's still a danger to himself. He did try to kill himself, you know."
"But I'll be looking out for him," My dad pleaded. "He'll be just as safe at my house as he would be here. If there was any trouble, I'd call you."
"I'd let you take him if I could, but it's the law. You know suicide is against the law. The state makes us keep them for observation."
I wanted to speak on my own behalf, but the tube they used to pump my stomach had irritated my throat. I couldn't speak.
When Mike and Fran visited me this morning, Mike said I looked better but Fran said she wanted to kick the shit out of me. Once my father arrived, Mike and Fran decided to leave.
My dad took hold of my hand. "Don't worry son," he said. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of everything."
I knew he'd take care of me because he was strong, just like I dreamed he would be. He'd get me out of here. He'd find a way.
This morning he told me that I could stay with him for as long as I needed and that I'd always have a home with him. Then he began to cry. He started saying that it was all his fault-- that if he hadn't left, I wouldn't have turned out like I did. That maybe I wouldn't have tried to kill myself.
I tried to tell him this wasn't his fault-- it was mine. I didn't know what I was thinking of, just being a stupid moron for taking those pills.
"I...er," I said. Then, I clutched my throat. The pain of trying to speak was too much.
My dad put his arms around me. "Don't speak. Everything will be fine. Everything will be back to normal. You'll be okay, son."
Later, my Dad came back with another doctor, accompanied by the first Doctor who was writing something on a clipboard. "Everything seems to be in order here, Mr. Shamus, but I still think it would be a better idea if he stayed here."
"No," my Father said. "I believe with Dr. Mince that Greg would progress better at his clinic."
As my Father and Dr. Mince wheeled me to the waiting ambulance, Dr. Mince turned to me. "Son," he said. "We're going to a place where you can figure out your choice."
Choice? What did he mean?
I looked over at my father. He just smiled at me, eyes filled with tears as they strapped me into the ambulance.
