When did you realize that some people really are just pure evil?

The Rescue and the Call

I saw a random girl I didn’t know about to take her life. So, I broke the rules to save her.

But when I called her foster dad to tell him, he called it drama and said, “Why are you disturbing me on my holiday?”. That was four months ago. Fast forward to now.

I made him regret everything and more. I was a delivery driver just trying to finish my deliveries.

When I looked up and through the second story window, I saw a girl about to commit suicide. She was a teenage girl and she was standing on a chair, completely still, tying something to the ceiling.

Her face was blank, like she wasn’t even really there.

Before my brain could even process what I was seeing, she kicked the chair away. I dropped the package immediately.

I pounded on the locked door and yelled, “Hey, open up”. But I got nothing.

I didn’t even think. I just bolted around the side of the house, found a window, and punched through it with my elbow.

Glass shattered everywhere, wounding my arm, but I didn’t feel it yet. Adrenaline took over as I climbed inside.

I ran up the stairs, heart pounding so loud I could barely hear. I burst into the room, and there she was, barely conscious.

I grabbed her and lifted her up with all my strength, trying to stop her from choking. My hands shook like crazy as I worked the knot loose and finally got her down.

She gasped and coughed, her eyes wide with shock. We just stared at each other for a few seconds, both shaking and breathing hard.

I pulled out my phone to call 911. “Who are you?” she whispered, barely audible.

The ambulance showed up quickly and they took her straight to the hospital. The police came and asked me a bunch of questions, and I ended up at the hospital, too, to get stitches.

My supervisor called me, yelling about the broken window, damaged package, and how I might lose my job. But honestly, none of that mattered.

I couldn’t stop replaying that moment when I looked up at the window. At the hospital, the doctor stitched up my arm.

She was gentle and calm, which helped because I was still shaking pretty badly. Even after I got home, I was shaking.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t talk about it with my wife or my kids.

The whole thing just ate away at me. I needed answers.

So, the next day, I called the hospital and asked for the girl’s emergency contact info. After some hesitation, the nurse gave me a phone number.

Apparently, the girl’s foster parents were out of town. A man answered when I called the number, sounding irritated right away.

When I explained who I was and what happened, his voice was cold, and what he said shocked me to my core. “Oh, okay”.

“But you just said she’s alive, so if she’s not actually dead, why are you calling me and disturbing me on my holiday?”.

I went pale. I tried to explain again, but he just snapped.

“Look, we’ve got eight foster kids here”. “You think we care about every little drama?”.

“We feed them”. “We get the checks”.

“Ellie keeps to herself”. “Not our problem if she’s unstable”.

I clenched the phone so tight my knuckles turned white. “She tried to take her life,” I said slowly, hoping he’d realize how serious this was.

“And you stopped her”. “Congrats,” he said flatly. Then hung up.

I just stood there staring at the wall, feeling completely hollow. I had never heard someone talk about a kid like that.

It explained everything. The lifeless expression on her face, the emptiness in that huge house.