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“Questions, questions! And not even a ‘good morning’?” She tskedas she smiled. “I want you to try to slow down your breathing a little, and remember everything’s going to be just fine.”
“But—I was leaving work. You were there. Your door was stuck. I helped you.”
“And thank you for that. You showed good manners and consideration. We’re going to help each other now. I’m here to help you.”
His breathing stayed labored as he stared at her. “Why am I strapped down? I don’t like being strapped down!”
“We don’t want you to hurt yourself, Zach. You hurt yourself before, didn’t you? You took your own life.”
“I was—I was in crisis. I got treatment. I go to therapy.”
“Those are choices you should’ve made before you killed yourself. But that’s done.” She gave his shoulder a comforting rub. “Still, we need to hear your story. That’s all we’re asking.”
“You need to let me go. Please. People will be looking for me.”
“Well now, that might be, but you wouldn’t report in for work for hours yet. You tell us your story, and we’ll let you go long before that. We’ll send you home, and those waiting for you will give you your homecoming.”
Clara noted he strained against the straps, as they all did. In her nurse’s heart, she wished to give him minimal sedation to ease his fears. But even minimal could interfere with the process.
“What story?” he demanded. “I don’t understand. Who is that!”
His agitation grew as Sam came in with the camera.
“Zach, Zach, slow your breath down. Try to relax for me. We’re here to help you.”
“Help me with what? I’m fine. I’m fine. Why are you doing this?” Anger burst out first, then despair followed. “I’m nobody. I’m nobody.”
“Now, don’t you say such a thing. You’re one of God’s creations. All we want is for you to tell us your story. If you can’t do that right now, we’ll sedate you, give you a chance to relax, and try this again tomorrow.”
“No, no! Don’t do that. I need to pick up my little boy from preschool tomorrow. I have a little boy. His name is Ben. I’m taking him to a monster truck rally on Saturday. I have to go home.”
“Of course you have to go home. Didn’t I just say we’re going to send you home? You just need to tell us your story first.”
And as with the others, a spark of hope lit in his eye. Clara always took that as a good sign. They might not believe they were ready to leave this world and go to their true home, but they’d tell their story.
“All right. All right. I’ll do whatever you want, but I don’t understand. What story?”
“Ten months ago, Zach, you closed yourself in your room at your parents’ house. Parents who took you in, gave you shelter when you were sad and upset.”
“Yes, yes. I thought I’d lost everything. I thought my life was over anyway, and I just wanted to end it. I was wrong. I was wrong.”
“You bought a rope, a good, thick rope, and you tied it into a noose, and you secured it up on the pole of the ceiling light. You got up on a chair and put that rope around your neck.”
“I thought I didn’t want to live. I thought death was the answer.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I was wrong!”
Calmly, Clara continued.
“Your father heard the chair you kicked over. He didn’t think anything of it at first, and then he worried some. He knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer, he beat on the door, then he slammed his body against it until he broke it down.”
“He cut me down.” Zach couldn’t wipe the tears away, so they kept rolling down his cheeks. “He yelled for my mom to call nine-one-one, and he got up on the chair, used his pocketknife to cut me down. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make that up to him and my mom.”
He choked on a sob. “I hurt them. I hurt them so much.”
She paused a moment, then stepped closer. “You understand what you did was deeply hurtful to those who birthed and raised you? And more, a terrible sin?”
“Yes, yes! Please, let me go!”
“And have you repented that sin, Zach? I’ll know, I promise you, I’ll know if you lie. Have you made atonement for that most grievous sin?”