Summary: Meredith's point of view reflecting on when her mother tried to commit suicide. Not really at any specific time but probably pre-therapy maybe even pre-series but doesn't really have to be. Spoilers for 4th season.
Disclaimer: Nothing to say really. Grey's Anatomy and it's cohorts are not mine and I'm glad they're not. Even writing the fanfiction is too much pressure. :)
The Middle of the Night
My mother never wanted me. Not one single day. I really don't know why she kept me, but she did. Then, when I was five my dad left never to be seen again. After that (or maybe even before; I'm not quite clear on that) my mother had a boyfriend but he dumped her too. I remember her begging him to stay with her. I was on the carousel and one time around she was crying and grabbing his arm and then the next time around she was alone, looking completely lost. I remember that day because that was the most emotion I ever saw my mother show; when she was begging Richard to stay.
Very soon after that my mother started her fellowship at Mass Gen in Boston and we moved across the country. I remember being lonely a lot during that time. All my friends were in Seattle. My dad was in Seattle. Hell, even Richard was in Seattle, and at least he was nice to me. After school got out I would take the bus home and wait. Some days she would come home and some days I was alone all night. I knew how to forge for food around the house and how to get myself up and ready for school. And really, it wasn't that different whether she was home or not. At least when I was alone I could relax.
One day when I was about six, I had spent the evening alone, made myself a sandwich for dinner and gone to bed. Then in the middle of the night she shook me awake. "Meredith get up. Right now." When she said it I could smell the vodka on her breath and I knew nothing good was coming. Knowing better than to question her I got up and followed her as she walked down to the kitchen.
On the counter there was a half empty bottle of vodka, an empty glass and a scalpel. I watched as she poured some more vodka into the glass, drank it, and then picked up the scalpel and sat down on the floor. She crossed her legs and beckoned for me to sit in her lap. It was very strange because she had never let me sit on her before. She never even touched me really. But sitting there was nice. I was afraid of what was coming next but for that one tiny moment it was so nice just to pretend that she loved me and was holding me; to pretend that she was about to pull out a bedtime story and smile at me while she read it.
When she started talking again her words were a little slurred. She said "Meredith whatever happens don't call 911. Do you understand me? If you call 911 you will be in trouble." That really scared me but I agreed. I knew if she didn't want me to do it she could stop me anyway. Then she said, "Be an extraordinary woman Meredith. I failed but you can still be extraordinary." Then she used the scalpel that was still in her hand to cut her wrists. I'd never seen that much blood before. When she was done she crossed her arms around me. It was the only hug she ever gave me. I'm pretty sure she was just trying to hold me in place, but still.
As we sat there in silence I knew I would have to call 911. I would get in trouble but it was better than her dying. I was afraid of what would happen to me if she died. Where would I go? Who would take care of me? She may not have loved me but she was still all I had. She had her arms around me so I knew I would have to wait until she passed out. So I sat there in her lap while her blood soaked through my pajamas and I waited.
I felt her arms start to slacken around me and then she slumped back against the counter and I knew it was time. I picked her hands up and set them on the floor and then I crawled out of her lap and walked over to the phone that was hanging on the wall. I had to stand on a chair to reach it. I picked up the receiver and with trembling hands called 911. I'd never disobeyed my mother before and in spite of everything that was happening I feared her wrath when she found out. When the operator asked me what was wrong I didn't want to tell him that my mother hurt herself so I just said she was hurt. That she wouldn't wake up. I told him that she was bleeding a lot. He told me not to worry and within minutes I heard the sirens approaching.
I heard the paramedics open the front door and yelled for them. They came in fast but halted when they got to the doorway to the kitchen. I heard one of them swear under his breath. We must have been a pretty gruesome sight. Me completely covered in blood and my mother on the floor having slid down some but still hunched against the counter with her arms open at her sides; my bloody footprints trailing away from her body. They only paused for a moment though and then they ran into the room and started working on my mother. They checked her neck for a pulse and then wrapped bandages tightly around her wrists. They picked her up and put her on a stretcher and while 2 of them took her out to the ambulance the third one came over to me. "Is your daddy home?" he asked. I just shook my head and tried not to cry. My daddy was definitely not here. "Okay sweety, you'll have to come with us then." He looked at me and when I didn't respond he just picked me up and carried me out to the ambulance.
Once we got to the hospital they took her off somewhere and it was more than a week before I saw her again. They cleaned me up and sent be to stay with some aunt I had never heard of before and never saw again. After that I went back home with my mother and everything was exactly the same as it had been before. To this day we've never discussed the events of that night but still sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat swearing I felt her hands on my shoulder shaking me awake; hearing her voice, "Meredith get up."
END