In all my 15 years working third shift at the mental institution as a security guard, never once had I gotten a call for a patient threatening to jump off our roof. Many of them suffered from suicidal ideations yet it was very rare for any of them to actually have an attempt here in this safe place. Many just want to be heard, and understood. Luckily for me I had a calm demeanor and ample time to sit and listen. Now thoughts of how to help this woman consumed me, and I wasn’t sure I had the answer.
I chose to climb the eight stories to the roof. Probably to stall for time and come up with a plan, but I told myself it was to give the police time to catch up and assist me. Entering in the stairwell thoughts of the last 15 years in this career hit me. I had never intended to stay. Fresh out of college it was a resume building stepping stone job. But when my parents fell on hard times I had to put aside that push for my PHD to pursue a career in criminal psychology aside. Then I met the man who would become my husband. So full of promises to create this amazing life together I got excited about what could happen. Quickly married and felt like even quicker the twins were on the way. By that time his mental health took a serious toll and he needed full time care, even though he was more than capable of taking care of himself. It was his way to trap me there with him forever, I see that now. With all these burdens on my plate my own life was washed away, I was full time caregiver to all these people, and this is where I had to stay.
The building was comfortable and familiar. I was good at my job. The staff and even the regulars that stayed long term or came back frequently admired me. I had a way of being able to help the very tough ones. I had often embraced the escape of work to get out of the regular burdens of taking care of a narcissistic husband, two aging parents, and the stressors of twins. The twins by far were my most favorite people and coming to work only hurt when they begged me to stay home that night, or to get up extra early tomorrow. Lack of sleep weighed heavily on my own mental health.
My phone buzzed as I was climbing the slow climb. Officer Evans had sent me a message “hey heard the dispatch to your work, trying to get free of this last call, I’ll be there soon.” Of all those years I had worked here, Officer Evans had always had the beat that took care of the institution. He always responded when I called, on the rare occasion I called. We had become very good friends over the years dealing with so many deeply disturbed people in completely horrible situations. The text went unanswered but I now felt a renewed calm he was coming for me.
When I reached the exit door to the roof I paused. Did I have what it took to save a person from the edge? Should I just wait for backup? How dangerous could she be? What was she planning on doing? What was I going to do? I had to do something. She was fading and I was there to save her. I took a deep breath and walked out on the roof calmly.
The first thing that struck me was how bright the night sky was. The stars were innumerable. The breeze was light and pleasant. The night felt too perfect for someone to die. I didn’t even need to scan the area, my eyes drifted right to her after lowering them from the sky. She sat perched on the edge right in front of me. Her hands on the sill, her legs dangling off the side. Her head facing down staring at the ground eight stories down. Slowly, calmly and quietly I walked to her. She did not move.
Instinct guided me next. I sat beside her facing the roof though feet firmly still on the ground. Roughly three feet away. I didn’t want to spook her into jumping, and I also did not want to get pulled over the edge. I wanted to show her I was there to listen. To help her. But this was easily the most dangerous situation I had ever been in. Yet oddly I felt safe, calm, and very in control. Her eyes never left the ground. I tried to get a good look at her. She sat in a patient gown, rather unremarkable woman in her 30s.