You Won't See Me
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, "Cheers" or any of the characters.
Woody Boyd stood atop the roof of his Chinatown apartment, tears streaming down his cheeks. He swore to himself that he would do it. Why didn't he? He urged his legs to move. They didn't budge. He kicked himself in his mind, which only made him shut his eyes silently and climb down. He couldn't bring himself to do something that he desperately wanted, and part of him felt that he needed, to do.
He fell to the floor of his room and sobbed. "Why?..." He thought. Why couldn't he fulfill that wish? Was he really that useless? He let those thoughts run over and over in his mind until he dozed off.
Sam was getting worried. Woody wasn't at work yet, and he was usually the first one there after him.
"Hey, has anyone seen Woody?" He asked.
Norm shook his head. "Nope."
"Call his apartment." Cliff offered. "See if he's home."
Sam thought that was a good idea and dialed Woody's number. He got his machine.
"Hi, you've reached Woody Boyd. I'm not in right now, please leave a message. Thanks."
"Woody? It's Sam. Where are you? I'm at the bar, please call me if you're not going to come in today."
Woody heard the message as he curled into a little ball in the corner of the room. "That's all they like me for, work....seems that's all I'm good for, doing work." He mumbled.
He knew that they all thought he was dumb, but didn't they know that he couldn't help it?
Maybe he could help it, but just didn't know how. That made him feel even more insecure.
He felt claustrophobic. He needed to get out of that room. He got up, and didn't care how he looked as long as he was dressed, and walked out the door.
"Did you get a hold of Woody?" Rebecca asked.
Sam shook his head. "No, he wasn't home. I left a message."
"Good, he must be on his way then."
Carla paused her work and walked by the bar. "Hey, did any of you notice that Woody hardly said anything yesterday?"
Norm nodded. "Hey, yeah. Woody usually always has something to say."
"And that he felt a little down about things?" Carla added.
"You know, you're right..." Cliff mused. "I had a friend who was depressed once. Didn't speak, didn't eat, didn't sleep. He got out of it, though."
"How did he do that?" Rebecca asked.
"You know, I never heard from him again after college. I guess he must've snapped out of it." Cliff told her.
"Cliff, he might have killed himself." Sam replied. He paused.
"You don't think..." He started.
They all shook their heads. "No, not our Woody. He gets down, but he's not suicidal."
Were they sure?
Woody walked into a building. He met a man as he walked along the road, and he asked what was wrong. Woody told him, and the man said he worked on a talk show where they could express their feelings. Woody took him up. They started air in an hour.
"I don't care what I say..." Woody said to himself. "They won't see me anyway. Why should I care?"
"Mr. Boyd." A man said to him. "Show time."
Woody got up and walked to the set. He sat down in a chair, and he found that it was the only other chair in the room, besides the host's chair. It didn't really matter to him, though.
Finally, the show started.
"Hello, and welcome to Lives and Losses. I'm your host, Rick Johnson, and here we have a boy with us who has a hurting heart."
The gang at Cheers was watching some football. They were cheering, "Go! Go! Go!"
Norm's shoulder bumped the remote. "Norm! They were gonna score!"
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Norm protested.
Sam pointed. "Hey, isn't that Woody?"
They all looked up. "Hey, that is him!"
"Young man, would you tell us your name please?"
"Woody Boyd."
"Where do you work, Woody?"
"I work as a bartender in a bar called "Cheers." He told him.
"Why did you choose to come on the show, Woody?"
Woody sighed. "Because I felt I needed to talk."
"But Woody can tell us anything, he didn't need to go on some show." Fraiser muttered. They all nodded, not taking their eyes off the screen.
"What did you want to talk about, Woody?" The host asked him.
Woody shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I tried to commit suicide last night."
DISCLAIMER: I do not own, "Cheers" or any of the characters.
Woody Boyd stood atop the roof of his Chinatown apartment, tears streaming down his cheeks. He swore to himself that he would do it. Why didn't he? He urged his legs to move. They didn't budge. He kicked himself in his mind, which only made him shut his eyes silently and climb down. He couldn't bring himself to do something that he desperately wanted, and part of him felt that he needed, to do.
He fell to the floor of his room and sobbed. "Why?..." He thought. Why couldn't he fulfill that wish? Was he really that useless? He let those thoughts run over and over in his mind until he dozed off.
Sam was getting worried. Woody wasn't at work yet, and he was usually the first one there after him.
"Hey, has anyone seen Woody?" He asked.
Norm shook his head. "Nope."
"Call his apartment." Cliff offered. "See if he's home."
Sam thought that was a good idea and dialed Woody's number. He got his machine.
"Hi, you've reached Woody Boyd. I'm not in right now, please leave a message. Thanks."
"Woody? It's Sam. Where are you? I'm at the bar, please call me if you're not going to come in today."
Woody heard the message as he curled into a little ball in the corner of the room. "That's all they like me for, work....seems that's all I'm good for, doing work." He mumbled.
He knew that they all thought he was dumb, but didn't they know that he couldn't help it?
Maybe he could help it, but just didn't know how. That made him feel even more insecure.
He felt claustrophobic. He needed to get out of that room. He got up, and didn't care how he looked as long as he was dressed, and walked out the door.
"Did you get a hold of Woody?" Rebecca asked.
Sam shook his head. "No, he wasn't home. I left a message."
"Good, he must be on his way then."
Carla paused her work and walked by the bar. "Hey, did any of you notice that Woody hardly said anything yesterday?"
Norm nodded. "Hey, yeah. Woody usually always has something to say."
"And that he felt a little down about things?" Carla added.
"You know, you're right..." Cliff mused. "I had a friend who was depressed once. Didn't speak, didn't eat, didn't sleep. He got out of it, though."
"How did he do that?" Rebecca asked.
"You know, I never heard from him again after college. I guess he must've snapped out of it." Cliff told her.
"Cliff, he might have killed himself." Sam replied. He paused.
"You don't think..." He started.
They all shook their heads. "No, not our Woody. He gets down, but he's not suicidal."
Were they sure?
Woody walked into a building. He met a man as he walked along the road, and he asked what was wrong. Woody told him, and the man said he worked on a talk show where they could express their feelings. Woody took him up. They started air in an hour.
"I don't care what I say..." Woody said to himself. "They won't see me anyway. Why should I care?"
"Mr. Boyd." A man said to him. "Show time."
Woody got up and walked to the set. He sat down in a chair, and he found that it was the only other chair in the room, besides the host's chair. It didn't really matter to him, though.
Finally, the show started.
"Hello, and welcome to Lives and Losses. I'm your host, Rick Johnson, and here we have a boy with us who has a hurting heart."
The gang at Cheers was watching some football. They were cheering, "Go! Go! Go!"
Norm's shoulder bumped the remote. "Norm! They were gonna score!"
"I didn't do it on purpose!" Norm protested.
Sam pointed. "Hey, isn't that Woody?"
They all looked up. "Hey, that is him!"
"Young man, would you tell us your name please?"
"Woody Boyd."
"Where do you work, Woody?"
"I work as a bartender in a bar called "Cheers." He told him.
"Why did you choose to come on the show, Woody?"
Woody sighed. "Because I felt I needed to talk."
"But Woody can tell us anything, he didn't need to go on some show." Fraiser muttered. They all nodded, not taking their eyes off the screen.
"What did you want to talk about, Woody?" The host asked him.
Woody shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. "I tried to commit suicide last night."