I’d built my life around those words, trying to give others the stability I’d never had. If I focused on fixingtheirbroken pieces, I could ignore my own. The protocols ensured the person in crisis wasn’t a danger to themself or others. Assess, de-escalate, stabilize. It was drilled into me, a lifeline insituations that demanded clarity. But this was Tyler. What did he need? Everything felt hazy, unreal, as I crouched next to him, torn between the rules we’d built and the fragile, hurting man in front of me.
“Tyler?” I asked. There was no response. “Okay,” I murmured to myself, taking a slow breath. What next? I sat beside him, leaning back against the bed, quiet and still. He was still with us—I could hear him crying, gentle sobs as he emptied grief and pain into the fabric of his worn sweats. I stayed silent, letting him have that release, until the crying eased.
I started talking, my voice low and steady, about everything and nothing. I mentioned the ocean because Tyler was originally from a small town on the coast of Maine.
I pulled out my phone, scrolled until I found my white noise generator, and chose the sound of the ocean. The gentle rhythm of waves filled the room, soft and constant in the background. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Finally, I heard shuddering gasps as Tyler’s tension eased a little. He lifted his head and took a deep breath, his hands dropping to his sides, his right one close to where mine rested. “No ocean,” he whispered.
I ended the sound. “I’m sorry,” I said, worried I’d overstepped.
“No, it’s okay,” Tyler murmured, his voice hoarse but steady. “It’s good.”
I was so drawn to him it scared me. With our hands an inch apart, I wanted to link our pinkies to comfort him.
I can’t.
I stayed still, hoping he could feel the reassurance from my presence.
The door creaked open, and Alex stepped in. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were sharp as they flicked between Tyler and me. Protocols had us check for physical issues first—that wasmyrole. Alex would take over, ensuring we followed the steps we’d built to handle moments like this. An entire safety checklist was implemented, with all staff in the building involved.
Medically, Tyler was clear. He was breathing okay, and I couldn’t see that he’d hurt himself. He was warm and at ease for the moment. It was my turn to leave, to let Alex in, but I didn’t want to go. My chest hurt, and I shifted, reluctant to break the fragile connection we’d built. But I nodded to Alex, signaling that it was time for him to step in.
I stood, Tyler glancing at me, frowning. “Hemight open up more with you,” I whispered to Alex before leaving the room, my heart heavy as I walked out.
I didn’t want to go.
I didn’t want to leave him.
THREE
Tyler
The door opened,and I didn’t have to check to know it was Alex. Marcus glanced up at him, his face tight with emotion. He stood, giving me one last pointed look before nodding at Alex.
“He might open up more with you,” Marcus murmured, his voice rough with something I couldn’t name. I immediately wanted to call him back and say I’d tell him anything he wanted to hear, but I couldn’t get the words past the block in my brain.
Please stay, Marcus. Please stay.
But he left because I hadn’t said anything to stop him. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with Alex.
I didn’t want Marcus to go. I thought about thenights when I’d been sleeping rough, and Marcus had come to find me. He’d never asked questions, never pushed. His touch had been kind, his voice soft but firm—the first voice I’d heard since leaving the hospital. He had sat with me, spoken to me, and reminded me I wasn’t invisible.
I didn’t realize until now how much I needed that. He came back day after day until one day, I just expected him.
I needed that gentle care now.
Alex lowered himself onto the floor where Marcus had been. He kept his distance but was close enough that I knew he was watching me.
“Hey,” he said, his voice even quieter. “Are you okay if I sit here?”
I flicked a glance at him before scrubbing my face with my hands. Of course, Alexcouldsit there. But I knew he’d ask questions, and I didn’t want him anywhere near me. The words wouldn’t come, tangled up in frustration and disappointment. I was supposed to be brave, to find the right words.
Shit.
“I’m not here to push you,” Alex said in the softest tone. “Just to understand and help if I can.”
I let out a slow breath, staring at nothing. The words were stuck in my throat, but Iforced them out. “Was Ireallygoing to jump?” My voice felt thin and fragile. “I… I don’t know.” I wasn’t going to jump. That would be letting down my team and my friends. I owed them to be stronger than this. They had fought by my side and trusted me, and I was supposed to carry their memories, and I’d tried to end everything. The weight of what I’d almost done crushed me, making it hard to breathe and think. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to hold it together, but the disappointment sat heavily. “It felt like the only way to stop the noise.”
