In the case of suicide attempts, only certain members of staff are allowed to care for the patient. They were people trained to treat both physical and emotional crises. They had to know how to pick up on tiny hints that someone was having what they called a "long night", or was more likely to harm themselves or others. Even the small things like hiding wrappers in their room or being happier than usual could be signs. They all knew basic personal defense, as well as coping methods for talking someone down and out of hurting themselves.
In the case of Eddward Marion, however, the employee team members were more confused by him than wary of his actions. He spoke very little to only a few people, which didn't happen often but it wasn't entirely unheard of. He had a very polite, curious personality which was rare for patients in his position and the psychiatrist seeing over him told the staff to encourage it.
But what really made the young man stand out where his issues. Sure, he had almost daily panic attacks where he curled up into himself and cried for about ten minutes, but if the staff left him alone for an hour, he'd be fine. Other than that...he never did anything spectacular. The crisis team had grown accustomed to angry, desperate people in their care. Why wouldn't they be? But no, Eddward Marion was always always on his best behavior. They could tell he was exhausted, in a lot of pain, and his psychological damage was holding him back, but he never seemed to lash out at anyone.
Of course, that was only their perspective.
In truth, Eddward had talked himself down many, many times. He often told himself he would only have to wait until after a meal. Then, after throwing up or feeling miserable after having attempted to eat, he would tell himself to wait until the next day, when he felt better. This continued for the first couple of weeks, with him barely speaking a word to anyone. He didn't fully trust anyone, though they did seem to have his best interest at heart. Dr. Haven especially had been very kind to him, though Eddward knew it was only because it was his job to.
It occurred to Eddward that had he found himself in this situation a year ago, it wouldn't have bothered him. He wouldn't have cared much if the staff were friendly or not. It wouldn't have mattered to him if the Doctor was kind. Because a year ago, he had forgotten what having friends was really like. He wouldn't have sought out friend because at the time he really didn't believe he needed any.
Now, thanks to...him, he was almost desperate for someone to talk to. He really didn't want to speak with all these strangers. They were trained to be kind and welcoming. It didn't mean they were nice people. He didn't want to talk to Dr. Haven, though he knew he probably should. And he most certainly didn't want to talk to Kevin...no, how could he face him? How was he supposed to look him in the eye?
He knew Kevin would find him pathetic. Eddward certainly saw himself that way. The one friend, the one confidant, the one person Eddward truly cared about who had so desperately tried to help him. And Eddward...Eddward had let him down. He let whatever it was that haunted his mind get the better of him. He had given up, and given in. Surely Kevin had seen it. Even with the best of intentions, Eddward had researched that those who attempted suicide, unless they recovered quickly, were often resented by those closest to them. They were seen as a burden.
He didn't know exactly what Kevin thought, exactly.
But he didn't want to find out.
.
.
"Your parents came by again today," Haven said, watching as Eddward shifted uncomfortably.
"They brought by a letter. Would you like to read it?"
Eddward nodded, and Dr. Haven handed him the small yellow envelope. The young boy quietly opened it, and read the contents therein. It was a simple 'thinking of you' card and must have not had much written in it, as it only took Marion a couple of seconds to read though its entirety. He closed it, set it back in his lap and stared at the floor.
"That didn't take long," the doctor commented. His patient shrugged.
"They didn't write very much," he replied.
"They haven't come by in person to see you," Haven recited, noticing the way the boys eyes shut as if to block out what he was saying.
"No, they haven't."
"Do you wish they would?"
The young man's lip quivered a bit, which Haven had learned to mean that he was emotional and torn between what he wanted to say and what he thought he should say. Eddward was proper, on all accounts. The dark haired patient was not one to act impulsively or rashly, unless his emotions got the better of him (which he tried very hard not to let happen). In many ways, it was hard to get someone to open up when they were so determined to be professional all the time. Haven found it equally amusing, frustrating and absolutely fascinating. He could only imagine what kind of childhood would train him to act that way while in the hospital.
As if to prove that very thought Eddward sat a bit straighter, his eyes focused forward. "I appreciate what they've done." It wasn't much of answer, and they both knew it. It wasn't just Haven who thought the boy's lack of parents was strange. No one dared say anything to him, of course, but the older employees on his care team had become quite protective of him because of it. The doctor had heard the quiet whispers exchanged on breaks, hushed voices asking if the young man had done what he did to gain the attention he so desperately lacked.
Haven didn't agree. Sure, his neglectful parents may have made it hard for Eddward to connect to others, and whatever pressures they had put on him had caused him to believe that any mistake he made was a failure, but in the instance of his attempt, the doctor truly doubted that hi parents were on his mind. Of course, if in fact their parenting style really did make it hard for Eddward to make mistakes and grow from them, then they were partially to blame for what happened. The dark haired boy had attacked a peer while in an attack and while it was put down as self defense, Haven knew Eddward didn't see it that way. He saw it as an uncalled act of aggression on his part. It was one of the things the boy wouldn't talk about. He gave the facts to the police when they asked, his head bowed and tears streaming down his face (though, realistically, the police officers were very patient and kind with him. They did not blame him for what he did- he was his biggest critic). The doctor guessed that this instance was one that the boy wouldn't soon forgive himself for.
He also refused to see the other boy, Mr. Barr. When Haven asked him about it, Eddward had simply shook his head, looking more pained than afraid.
"Are you sure?" the doctor had asked, knowing from the investigation that the two had been very close. "I think seeing a friend would help. Mr. Barr is very worried about you. He has come by every day. You can't avoid him forever, I don't think."
At this, the boy let out a sad laugh, remembering that he felt that way at the beginning of their friendship. He'd let Kevin in then, but would he now?
"Not today," the boy sighed.
.
It only took about three weeks for Eddward to become the staffs' favorite resident. He didn't cause any trouble, didn't refuse meals even though he often couldn't hold it down, and he took his medication on time. When a young nurse with a gentle fondness for the boy suggested he try walking he had agreed. She then spent the next hour with an arm around her shoulders as he slowly limped down the hallway. Because he injuries on both his wrists and ankle, he couldn't use crutches. They probably got about fifty feet, and by the end his face was twisted in pain, but the nurse was very proud he had tried at all.
Another nurse, a middle aged man with a soft voice (as the boy responded best to quiet, calm people) gained his trust enough that during an attack, the boy reached out for him. The man held his hand in both of his, not saying a word. When the young man had calmed down, the man got up without a word, finished what he was doing and left.
Lastly, a new tech got farther than almost anyone had. After walking in to find him trying to brush his hair, she realized how painful the exercise must have been. She gently took the brush from him, despite his embarrassed protests. She put him in a chair and stood behind him, gently brushing all the missed tangles out. It had taken upwards of half an hour to get his hair smooth again. She put his hair in a small pony tail, using a hair band she had been keeping on her wrist. It was so relieving for the young man to have his hair off his neck that he allowed her to do it everyday after. While the young woman worked, she would tell him silly stories about the staff. He didn't often laugh, but he would smile nervously and she thought it was good enough.
Dr. Haven had gained the boy's trust, but in a different way. They had a sort of contract between them. An unspoken one. Eddward would speak when he was comfortable, but he wouldn't hold back from things he felt he needed to say. In return, Haven would give him his personal space. He wouldn't engage him in conversation outside their appointments and he never touched him. It seemed Mr. Marion was still not used to speaking his thoughts allowed, and it make him very conscious. By staying at a respectful distance, it helped Eddward cope.
The hospital had grown quite fond of the dark haired boy- but Eddward was far from healed. The kindness he was showed helped mend the aches, but it couldn't fix him. Not this time.
.
Eddward often thought about the psychiatrist's suggestion to see Kevin. He hated to admit it, but there was wisdom in the doctor's words. Eddward was about to lose his mind if he didn't have a familiar face soon, and he thought it rude of him to ignore him everyday. A month after the incident, Eddward was getting better by the day. Almost all the bruises were gone, the stitches were starting to fall out, and he was getting better at walking with a boot. He was sick of the hospital room he claimed, even with the beautiful view it gave him. It was looking like he'd have to do time in a rehab center- partially because he was only inches from the edge and partially because if he didn't, there was a chance Ricky Holland's parents could take him to court for his injuries. Haven assured the young man that if they did they would have nothing to go on, as Holland had done much more the Eddward than Eddward had done to him, but the process would be traumatizing and unnecessary. Instead, Mr. Marion would be transferring to a lovely institution a couple towns over where he would stay for up to six months. He would be under the careful eye of Dr. Haven himself, as well as a nurse the doctor assured Eddward he would be fond of. It wasn't ideal and truth be told Eddward was terrified, but he figured he had no choice.
Which is why he was going to see Kevin. To say goodbye.
There was no telling how long he would be gone, or if the rehabilitation would even help. If it didn't, Eddward had decided that he could no longer burden the ginger with his problems. It wasn't fair, no matter how determined the young man seemed. He had a life to live, and the dark haired boy was determined to let him live it with or without him. He was relieved to know that by letting the Barr boy go, it might help both of them move on from what had happened. Perhaps one day, Kevin would only remember him as a strange boy he had once known. Not the psychological mess of a being that had taken up much of his time and strength.
Eddward cursed himself, knowing that mostly, he just didn't want to be seen as broken anymore. He couldn't stand it. He was broken, of course. Eddward Marion was a shell of a boy with little hope for himself and others. And as much as it hurt to let Kevin go, it would be worth it knowing no one he cared about would see him that way anymore. Maybe if Eddward recovered, they could be friends once more. Maybe he could convince the athlete he wasn't as useless, as disturbed, as broken as he had allowed himself to become.
Maybe.
He told Dr. Haven that he would see the other boy at the end of the week. Then he promptly burst into tears.
