It
was dark and pouring outside. Then the automatic doors sled open. A man came
in, dragging a woman with him.
Drip, drip, drip.
“I’m
okay,” said the woman.
“No,
you’re not okay!” the man yelled, sounded like a bark to me.
Drip, drip, drip.
They
stood in front of the Emergency Room receptionist. The man rummaged into his
bag and threw an ID card to the table.
He
left. Angry.
Drip, drip, drip,
I
froze.
Susan Pratiwi. From the photo on the ID,
clearly it was the woman.
“What’s
wrong, Mam?” I asked.
“Nothing”.
She seemed a little bit off—confused. Her hair was messy, she was wearing a
dirty navy shirt, with a ripped jeans torn here and there showing so many cuts
she had on her leg. The nurse surrounded her, checking her from head to toe.
“I’m
okay,” she said.
Drip, drip, drip. Fresh red blood were
dripping from her hand, forming a pool of blood on the floor.
“Your
palm are bleeding, Mam. Are you sure you’re okay?” A nurse approached her.
“It’s
not hurt”. She is standing there, looked pale and fragile. I afraid she would
collapse at any time.
“Let
me look at your hand,” another nurse tried to talk to her.
“No,
I want to wait for my friend.” She shook her head, a little trembled.
Drip, drip, drip.
“Do
you want to sit while you’re waiting?”
She
shook her head twice. “I’m okay”.
“No,
you’re not okay,” another voice came from behind, a man stood there, grabbing
the woman’s arm until she flinched.
“Please
help her,” his voice was heavy, sounded like a mixture of desperation and
anger.
“I
don’t need any help,” the woman looked at the man with a blank expression.
“Look
at yourself! You are bleeding everywhere!” He shook the woman.
The
woman looked at herself—puzzled. “Why am I bleeding? That’s odd, I don’t feel
any pain at all”.
“What
happened?” A doctor came.
“She
cut herself,” The man near broke off as he told the doctor. He looked at the
woman with an indescribable expression, like he couldn’t believe himself, like
a regret, a disappointment, a frustration, but on top of those, I still saw a
love. His gesture to protect her, his worrisome gaze toward her, I almost could
tell you how much this man love her.
Then
I look at the woman. Completely clueless while the nurse cleaned her wounds. It
was a heartbreaking scene to watch. And I wonder what kind of thing that made
the woman want to end her life. What kind of thing that made her forgot that
she had so much love, that she had a man to support her by her side. That
still, the best choice is to stay alive despite of whatever it was she had gone
through.
Hey,
Mam, could you just try to hang on for a while? To bear it with him a little
bit more? Because I hope that at the end you will end up grateful that you didn’t
die that night. That one day you can laugh for your stupid decision that night,
that one day you’ll realize that you’re deeply loved, and you can tell yourself
that it’s such a beautiful life to live in.
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