Writing Prompt 1
*There are mentions of suicide ideation in the story. Please read at your own discretion.
"How are you feeling today?" I ask, as my best friend is brushing her hair. It is morning and the sun is starting to peek out from behind the Eastern Mountains. It peers through the window onto her brunette hair. She was always the pretty one, I thought to myself. Her hair looks like it is a milk chocolate brown until the sun hits it just right making some golden and caramel strands dance.
"I'm just ok today." Amy says with a smile on her lips, but her eyes cannot lie. I have been worried about her for a long time, and I haven't left her side for weeks. She needs me now, more than ever before. Amy used to be able to do everyday tasks without prompting from me, but she has become more and more dependent on my help. I do it willingly, of course. She is my best friend. No one knows her better than I do. Not her parents, not her siblings, not her teachers, only me. She and I have a special connection that no one else can compare to. Everyone else in her life tries, it's not like everyone is not good for her, but I am the only one who can really get through to her.
"Come on, let's go downstairs and get some breakfast," I motion for her to follow me to the door, she slowly gets up from her vanity bench and meanders over to me. "I'm not really hungry this morning," she says quietly. I put my arm around her, "I know. You never are, but you always feel better after you have something to eat".
We walk, arm in arm, down the hall to the stairs. Going down the stairs we get to the front door, as our feet get to the landing we turn to the right and go down another hall, passing Amy's dad's office door; it is shut and I can hear the muffled voice of Amy's dad talking on the phone. He works from home two days a week, and he goes into the office the other days. It's always fun to listen to his conversations because Amy and I never have any idea what he is talking about. We make it to the kitchen and see Amy's mom sitting at the dining room table feeding Amy's baby sister. I nudge Amy, "you should tell her" I whisper to her. Amy shakes her head, but I can see her eyes start to glisten. "She will understand" I say quietly. "Good morning!" her mom says cheerily, keeping her eyes on the baby, and spooning up the baby food she keeps spitting out. Amy smiles and empty smile and grabs a bowl and spoon and places them on the granite island. She walks over to the fridge and opens up the door, she pulls out the yogurt and places it on the table, then she opens the cupboard and pulls out the bag of homemade granola. Amy takes her spoon and scoops out a dollop of yogurt into her bowl, she opens up the ziploc bag and shakes granola on top of the yogurt. Amy puts the bag back into the cupboard and the yogurt into the fridge, and then starts to stir together her concoction of breakfast. The baby is cooing and giggling in the background, but I can tell that Amy has zoned out. She sits down and starts to eat small bites of her yogurt.
"What are your plans for today?" her mom asks. I look at Amy, but I can tell that her moms words haven't even registered to her. "What are your plans for today?" her mom repeats. I look at her mom and can see the sadness in her eyes. She knows that something is wrong. She always knows. She is such a good mom. I feel bad for her too. She has had her own struggles, especially since the new baby arrived. "Amy?" she says gently... "Amy?". I finally nudge Amy, and she quickly shakes her head back into reality, "What?" she quickly says. Her mom gives a sweet smile, "What are your plans today?" she repeats for a third time. Amy doesn't answer right away, "I don't know" she finally replies, "maybe go to the library?" Amy's mom nods and the baby bubbles her lips, drawing her mothers attention back. I give Amy an expectant look and mouth, "tell her". Amy just turns back to her bowl and takes another bite.
***
We are back in Amy's room. Amy has pulled the curtains closed so we are enveloped in darkness. Amy is laying on her bed, and I am sitting on the bench of her vanity. I can hear the music from her sisters room to the right of us, and I can hear her brother playing some video game across the hall through the closed door. "I know that you don't want to talk to your mom about it, but I really think you should." Amy shrugs at my suggestion, "she is already dealing with a lot. I don't want to burden her any more." I furrow my brows, "but Amy, she will understand, and I guarantee that she will help you. She doesn't want you to feel like this." Amy turns away from me. "What is the point? I'll be fine." I sigh loudly, "everyone says that they will be fine until they are not." Amy ignores my words and she closes her eyes to take a nap.
***
It's been three weeks since I last brought up Amy talking to her mom. Every time I would mention it she would shut me down or ignore me. But I know that she is not doing any better, in fact, I am pretty sure that she is getting worse. I hate to tell her that I think she is depressed, but I really need to bring it up. I breathe evenly, in through my nose and out through my mouth. We have been working on yoga for the past twenty minutes. Amy says that it helps her feel better, so I push through downward dog, holy cow this makes my hamstrings strain. In through my nose, out through my mouth... two more breaths... finally the youtube yoga teacher has us move to chataranga and then to cobra.... my arms are screaming for relief and I finally break and go into childs pose, "how much time is left?" I whimper and Amy giggles a tiny bit, that's progress, I think to myself. It's been so long since I've heard any sound of happiness from her. "We are almost finished" she says, a little out of breath, "this is harder than I thought it was going to be". I snort, "right? Who knew yoga would be this hard?" my voice is muffled from childs pose. I hear a knock at the door, "Amy, you almost done?" Amy's mom says from behind the door. Amy breaks from her cobra pose and lays on the floor, "Yeah, I'm almost done" Amy's mom opens the door slightly and peeks in, "you ok Amy?" she questions, with a seemingly knowing tone. I look at Amy. Amy just gives an empty smile, "Of course mom." Her mom gently nods and shuts the door.
I can't take it anymore, I am bursting, "Amy, you have to tell her!" Amy shoots me a piercing glance, "tell her what? That I don't feel like myself? That I am-" she cut herself off and the silence between us was deafening. I wait for her to continue feeling the breath go stale in my mouth. We just stare at each other. I am beginning to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. "That you are what, Amy?" I breath out. Amy turns her face away, "nothing" is all she says.
***
Amy is laying on her bed taking another nap, and I am sitting on the vanity looking at all of her makeup. She never uses it anymore. She used to really enjoy watching tutorials and practicing her makeup. Now she rarely puts on mascara. It makes me sad to thing about all of the things that she is missing out on because she "is tired". Amy is tired all the time now it seems. I wish she would say something to her mom. Her mom is not dumb, she knows that something is up, I've heard her talk to Amy's dad about it in passing; she's tried so hard to coax it out of Amy, but without fail, Amy always manages to either evade the topic of conversation or just mitigate it with generic answers. I can see how her mom doesn't want to push it. Heck, everytime I push it, I get shot down and I'm her best friend. I hate how she is becoming more and more avoidant of everything. It gets old just hanging out in her bedroom, especially since all Amy seems to want to do right now is sleep. She's getting worse. She's getting more... depressed.
There is a gentle knock on the door, and her mom peeks in. "Amy? Can you possibly watch the baby for me? I need to go to the store and your brother and sister are gone and dad has meetings." Amy turns her body and faces her mom. "yeah, of course" she yawns, and she slowly starts to get up. Her mom smiles a sweet smile, "thanks dear."
Amy and I walk down the stairs and turn the corner to head into the kitchen. Amy's mom has opened the office door and is talking to Amy's dad, asking him if he needs anything. He is on a phone meeting and shakes his head and scribbles something on a piece of paper. He holds it up as we walk past his office door. "Thanks" with a heart is written on it. I love their relationship. They are truly perfect parents. If only Amy would tell them that she is struggling so hard. I know that they would help her.
We are in the kitchen now heading for the living room, and I hear Amy's mom shut the office door so slightly that there is just the tiniest of clicks. She comes into the kitchen and tells us across the open floor plan that she shouldn't be too long, that the baby has been fed and that Amy can put her down for a nap in about an hour. Amy smiles at the baby but says, "Ok, we will have so much fun!" in her baby talk, loud enough for her mom to hear. I look back at her mom and her mom looks relieved to finally hear some kind of joy in Amy's voice. She puts her purse on her shoulder and walks to the door leading to the garage and picks up the set of keys on the hook. She opens the door and gives one last glance back at her daughters, opens the door and exits into the garage.
As we hear the garage door open and close, Amy is sitting on the floor with the baby laying in front of her. She is only four months old. Amy takes her cute chubby legs and starts moving them up and down. The baby giggles. She only just barely found her voice and it's been fun watching her giggle and start to coo and babble. Amy looks legitimately happy right now. That makes my heart soar, I haven't seen an actual smile on her face in so long. Amy starts making faces at the baby and starts playing peek-a-boo which results in more baby giggles.
The door to the office opens and I hear the footsteps of Amy's dad coming down the hallway. He enters into the kitchen and turns toward the fridge. "How are two of my favorite girls?" he questions while he opens the fridge. Amy keeps looking at the baby but answers the same answer as always, "We're doing just fine" she smiles at the baby. He grunts at that answer as he pulls out a tupperware container of ham and a package of cheese. Amy's dad shuts the fridge door with his foot and sets the makings of his lunch on the granite island. "Have you been doing any more of your makeup stuff lately?" he probes as he grabs the bag of bread from beside the fridge. Amy's smile starts to fade, "oh... yeah. A bit" she fibs as her shoulders slump. I can tell that she doesn't like not being truthful. Her dad keeps on making his sandwich. The pause in conversation is somewhere in the middle of awkward and awkward. The non answer that Amy has given is nothing for her dad to build on, so he just keeps making his sandwich. Amy just keeps playing with the baby and I just sit there unable to say anything. Amy's dad finally finishes making his sandwich and is putting away the ham and cheese. I can tell that he is not putting them where they should go. At least, not where Amy's mom puts them. She is going to be slightly annoyed when she gets home, I know she will be.
Quietly, Amy's dad starts to walk out of the kitchen back down the hall to his office, he stops and turns to look at Amy. "You know that we love you, right?" Amy feigns playing with the baby and offers up a measly, "Of course". Her dad just nods and starts walking down the hallway again, and soon I hear his office door click. Slightly annoyed I speak up, "You know, you can tell him too." Amy gives me an icy stare. "He is also busy, he doesn't need me complaining about my stupid issues." I just stare back at her, "they are not stupid issues. You feeling like this is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone feels like this at one point in time." Amy rolls her eyes and turns back to the baby. "I am fine".
***
"Amy, don't do this... you don't want to do this" I plead as I watch Amy with an open bottle of tylenol. Amy doesn't even look at me, her focus is just on the bottle. "Amy. Amy!" I finally manage to get her to look at me. "This is not the answer!" I try to say as calmly but as sternly as I can. Amy's eyes well with tears. "I'm just so tired." I put my arms around her and I hold her tightly, "I know" I choke on my own throat, "I know, but this is not the way to fix that." Amy breaks down, and the weight of her almost pulls us both down. I hold onto her tightly, "please, lets go talk to your mom and dad. They can help you." Amy is sobbing and through her tears, and she keeps trying to catch her breath, "I don't.. even.. know how... to tell them." I scratch her back and play with her hair. "I know, but you need to tell them that it's gotten this far. You are hurting so bad and there is nothing that I can do to help you, you need more help than what any of us can give you". Amy is shaking with each sob.
The door handle to the bathroom rattles, and Amy's mom is on the other side. "Amy? Amy?! Open the door please, what is wrong?" Amy can't let go of me. I push her gently off, and she goes to the door and twists the lock. Her mom and dad open the door and her mom takes over for me. Her dad sees the open Tylenol bottle and looks at her with shock and sadness and dare I say it: fear? "What did you do?" he exclaims loudly with a shake in his voice. Through her sobs, Amy says, "I'm just so tired". Her parents exchange knowing glances and jump into that parental mode that only happens when things need to happen, and they need to happen fast.
Amy's mom starts to rush her down the stairs, down the hallway, through the kitchen and grabs her purse and keys off the hook, her dad opens up the door to Amy's sister's room and tells her that we have to go to the hospital so she has to stay to keep an eye on the baby. Amy's sister is visibly shaken as her dad heads to the stairs to follow Amy and her mom. It is everything I have to keep up with him. We get to the van, and I jump into the very back of the van as Amy's dad starts the engine. Amy's mom is holding onto her with quiet tears streaming down her face. Amy is in her moms lap and I can only see the top of her head. I can only see her dad's eyes through the rear view mirror, he doesn't have tears but an expression of overwhelming concern.
I am in too much of shock to feel much of anything, my stomach is shaky and I feel like I may vomit. My whole body feels like it is stiff and my jaw is shivering like I am cold. I look at my best friend over the seat and want to scream inside, why didn't she tell her parents that she was feeling like this months ago? Why did she just let herself go deeper and deeper into her depression. I should have pushed for her to talk to them sooner. I should have worked harder at making her see.
***
It's been three days. After the ER and assessments by lots of doctors, Amy was sent up to the psych floor for a 72 hour hold. Amy was given some pretty strong medication so I haven't been able to see her as much. She has been sleeping for the majority of those days. As I sit by her bedside and hold her hand. It's cold. This whole place is cold. Her mom and dad have been taking turns and I come as often as I can. But it's hard when she is on medication. It's just me in her room right now. I sit silently as she slowly starts to come to and open her eyes. She looks at me and smiles, "Hi" she whispers. I smile back at her, "Hi" I whisper back. We just look at each other. "I'm so sorry," I say as the dam that is my tears breaks away. She shushes me gently, "it's ok. it's ok. I knew that I needed to tell them. I wish that I had listened to you".
There is a knock at the door and the big door swings open. A kind looking man comes in and pulls out the circle chair that is in every hospital and clinic room. He sits down and opens up his laptop. "Hi Amy," he gently says, "I am Dr. Schwinn and I am here to help you get better. Can you tell me what lead up to you being here?"
I look at Amy and as tears fill her eyes again, she looks down at her hands. One in her lap, and one holding mine. "I don't know. I just haven't been myself lately." Dr. Schwinn nods, "Ok. What makes you say that?" Amy shrugs, "I don't know. I just know that I've been really down and tired". Dr. Schwinn nods again as he starts to type in his laptop, "When did you start noticing that you didn't feel like yourself?" Amy scrunches up her face, I can tell that she is trying to remember, "six months ago" I offer. Amy turns to me, "what?" I smile at her, "It was about six months ago that you started feeling depressed" she looks to the side, "six months?" she questions, I nod my head. "yes, you thought it was just seasonal depression at first. It was around the end of November." her eyes light up, "Yes, you're right. It was about six months ago around Thanksgiving break" she directed toward Dr. Schwinn.
I look up from Amy and see Dr. Schwinn looking directly at me. He turns his focus back to Amy, "who is reminding you of your dates?" he asks calmly as he starts typing again on his laptop. Amy turns to look at me and smiles, "My best friend, she has been with me through all of this" she beams, not taking her eyes off of mine. I smile at her, and then look back at Dr. Schwinn. He is typing some more. He doesn't say anything more, but just types. Finally, after what seems like a really long time, he looks back at Amy and smiles a gentle smile. "How long has she been your best friend?" Amy's face goes blank, as does mine. "I can't think of a time when we weren't best friends" she says, "We've always been together". Dr. Schwinn starts typing some more.
"Why is that important?" I ask. Amy turns to me, "I don't know, it's probably important because you've been there for me through everything." Dr. Schwinn responds, "It's important for me to know so that I can get a sense of how you've been coping. I am going to head out for now, but I will be back soon after I've had a word with your parents." He closes his laptop and stands up, he pushes the circle chair back under the table. He straightens his back and opens the big hospital door, he turns and gives a little wave before exiting into the bustling hallway of nurses and CNA's. He gently shuts the door.
A little while later there is another knock from the door, and a sweet robust nurse walks in, following her is a younger girl who looks like she isn't much other than us. The nurse has a couple of packets of what must be Amy's medication. She scans Amy's wristband, turns to the younger girl and asks her to repeat the name of the medication. She reads the name and nods, the nurse scans the medication packet and breaks the pill out of the aluminum backing and lets it fall into a little white cup. She then scans Amy's wristband again, holds up another pill packet and repeats the cycle with the younger girl. They do this two more times, scanning, repeating, scanning, repeating. The nurse hands Amy a cup of water and Amy lets go of my hand to take the tiny white pill bottle. Amy takes out each pill and takes each of them with a swallow of water. The nurse and the younger girl finish up what they are doing and leave us alone in the room. Amy's eyes start to droop and I can tell that she wants to take a nap. I watch as she closes her eyes and falls asleep.
***
I turn to look at my best friend and am shocked at what I see. Amy's brown hair is longer, and she has lines in her forehead and on the side of her mouth and her face is fuller than the last time I saw her. I gasp, "Amy! What happened?"
Amy smiles sweetly at me and says, "I stopped taking my pills."
Prompt: After years of gentle persuasion your childhood best friend since childhood finally agrees to seek professional help for serious mental problems. Much to your dismay, as she begins to improve you slowly start to realize that you are her imaginary friend