Prompt: You are a brand new suicide hotline counselor. Describe how you feel during your first call.
She's crying. Still crying. I'm not supposed to cry. I mute the headset to blow my nose and take a few deep breaths. Unmute. I tell her to pull over. She can't. She's on the highway. She gets off at the next exit and pulls into a gas station. I tell her to park where it's lit and to lock her doors. Does she feel safe there? Yes, she feels safe. She's still crying but I can understand her better now. I had gotten bits and pieces before. A boyfriend. Fighting. Getting hurt. Wanting to leave him, no, kill him, or herself. I speak calmly as my hands shake like they're on a wooden rollercoaster, hoping my voice doesn't match. What happened? You fought. Fistfight. Okay. He hit you. A lot. You think you're okay. You want to kill him or yourself. It's easier to kill yourself. He's big, strong, won't go down easily. She's starting to get hysterical again as she relives the fight. I stop her. Tell her to take a breath. I breathe with her. I need it as much as she does. I take a sip of coffee. It makes me think when has she last eaten? I ask her. She can't remember. I tell her to go into the convenience store and get something to eat and drink. Whatever her favorites are. She keeps me on the line but doesn't talk. I mute the mike and take another sip of coffee, hoping to calm my nerves and crunch on a chip. Let the salt sit on my tongue and breathe it in. She's back in her car with a root beer and Reese's peanut butter cups. I hear the bottle hiss open. She's chugging, I stop her. Tell her to sip. Savor. Let it sit in her mouth and feel the bubbles. I hear her breathe and swallow hard. She takes deep breaths and then belches loudly. I snigger without thinking and freeze with my hand over my mouth. Eyes wide with fright and disappointment in myself. I hope I didn't upset her. She laughs too. My shoulders sigh relief. She admits she doesn't drink a lot of soda because it makes her burp so. I tell her I have the same issue. We laugh. I tell her to eat and drink slowly and mindfully. Think back to the last happy time she had a root beer or a Reese's. She tells me about her mom. Then her brother. A trip to the zoo. I let her talk, occasionally stating something small to let her know I'm still listening. I am listening to her story, but I'm also listening to the inflections in her voice. A crack or a pause, anything that might lead her back to her current dilemma. I don't want that. I'm prepared to redirect. I don't need to. Her voice is calming. Her breathing is regular. A few more burps and giggles. She's feeling better. I'm feeling better. She says she wants to kill him. That was out of the blue! She's calm! Then she says it would be easier to kill herself. She's thinking about this rationally. Well, rationally in her head. I ask her why she would want to do either. She says she needs to get out and away. She's afraid if she leaves he'll find her. I tell her about restraining orders and protection. She was never sure it would work. I tell her I will help her get away. I will help get in contact with the right people. She is grateful but still thinks it would be easier to drive head-on into a semi-tractor trailer. I tell her if she does that, he wins. She's silent. I hear her bite her Reese's. She's thinking. She asks why he would win. I tell her because you did it because of him. You would have ended your life because of him. He gets to live and do this to another girl. But, if you live, thrive, get a restraining order, go to the police, he will be punished for his actions. Held accountable. You will be safe. She thinks about this. I hear her take a sip of root beer. I mute and crunch a chip in anxiety. I just got her calm, eating, and talking about good memories. Yet she still wants to end everything. I want to hug and shake her at the same time! She asks where she would go. I ask if she has any friends or family that he's not familiar with. She says she has never introduced him to her parents. He knows about them, but not where they live. They live in the next state over. I ask her if she's able to make the drive. She says yes. I tell her to fill up, get some more snacks for the trip and head out. She isn't sure. She's silent. I hear the door ding. I call her name, ask what she's getting from the store. She says some more snacks. I mute myself and listen to make sure she's doing what she says. My heart is pounding. I want her to make the right decision. Don't walk into highway traffic. Please. Please! The door to the convenience store dings, my body sinks into my chair with relief. I hear her walk around the store and fill a basket. The clerk asks her a question, I can't hear it. She says she's going on a long trip. She's excited. She's going to see her parents. The clerk sounds happy for her. When she gets back in the car she asks if this is the end of our conversation? I tell her if she wants it to be. I will stay on with her as long as she needs. She's happy about that and I stay on the line.
About the Creator
Jennifer R
I was born in New York and raised in South Florida. I enjoy writing as a hobby and a means to transmit knowledge and wisdom obtained over the years. I love animals - they're better than humans. I can't stand it when people are late.



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