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The first responders never forget their faces.
That’s what David was told when he first got a job as a hospital EMR. He heard it from every doctor, paramedic, and nurse he talked to. They all clearly felt bad for him, but he had told himself he was absolutely prepared for everything. He knew what he would be doing, and he had prepared himself for everything he might see, every broken bone and cut artery and battered, beaten body.
He had not prepared himself for this
The days were always busy, the ambulance bouncing from place to place, dealing with heart attacks and seizures and rushing them back to the hospital. David felt good when he thought about it, felt that he was helping people and making a difference.
It was his first day, and it had begun to rain as they got the call and began driving. David heard the details, and was not prepared for them. Suicide.
That was not something he had thought about until the moment. They made their way through the town, through back roads that led to back roads, the house was far away and the longer they were on the road David became more and more nervous. Out of all the people he may have saved today, he wanted this to be another one.
The house was small, and by the time they got there, police had flooded the scene. Another EMT told David to stay outside, so he looked at the dark scene with a grimness in his heart.
There was a woman who was in hysterics, blood and tears on her hands and face as she paced the small yard, crying and talking to herself in another language.
And even worse, there was a kid. He was young and looked like his mother, and sat on a square stone wall with his hands in his hoodie pockets as he looked down. The rain hit his black curls, but the water that dripped to the ground beneath his gaze was not rain.
He saw the EMT from earlier come out of the house, and the woman ran up to him, speaking English now. She pleaded with him, begged for her husband to be okay, but David looked away. He knew what had happened.
He looked back at the kid, still alone. The boy was listening to everything, and heard his mother’s pained wail and stiffened. He walked over to the kid and sat down on the wet stone beside him, heart hurting.
“Hey.” He said softly. The kid didn’t move, and David didn’t know if he was listening. “My name’s David.”
“Fuck off.” The kid let out, but he sounded weak and shaky and not at all as defensive as he wished he did. But David understood, and turned a bit more towards the kid.
“Can you look at me for a second?” He asked.
The kid looked up, and his face was a pained mixture of anguish and despair covered with thin veil of anger. David spoke in a calm and comforting voice, just hoping he would get through to the kid.
“These things happen, and sometimes there’s nothing you can do to stop them. But know that it wasn’t your fault, and you don’t deserve this. I promise it’ll get better.”
The boy just looked at David for a second, then let out a small sob as his veil fell and all that was left was a sadness that David wished he could have just taken away. No kid deserves this.
Other first responders came over, asking the kid questions, all of which he answered with ‘no’ - to “Are you hurt?” - and ‘fuck off’ - to “Do you need help?”. The others eventually called David back to the ambulance, and he waved goodbye to the kid and hopped back in the car, hoping he saved at least one person from this situation.
The rest of the day was uneventful, and eventually David asked the driver of the ambulance if he knew anything about the suicide.
The woman shrugged. “The guy was the father of that kid, had BPD. I heard the kid got taken away by CPS, though.” David was shocked for a moment to hear this.
“What? Why?”
“He was the one to call the cops. He was still alone at the house when the police came. Well, alone with him, I guess.” She took in a deep breath and rubbed a hand over her face, running through her curls. “You know what they mean about not forgetting them, right?”
David nodded silently, the image of the sad kid filling his mind again. It had plagued him all day.
“The heart attacks, fractured bones, that we can deal with fine. It’s the shit like this that sticks.” Though anyone would have thought, of course it does, it made a lot of sense for David. The woman sighed once again, stretching a small bit. “Anyways, shift’s over. You get home and get some sleep. And for the record, I think you did that kid a lot of good.”
David smiled and thanked her, saying his goodbyes as he approached his car. I really hope I did.