The Good Samaritan

I no longer had any choice in what to do next. I knew I had to go and see the only person who could bring an end to all of this, and beg the woman who killed my wife and baby to show me mercy.

I guess it was easier to hide her sadness behind the written word than to disguise the emptiness in her voice.

Because when you’re not considered to be a threat, you can get away with much, much more.

If it was cancer or a heart condition that had killed Charlotte, people might have related to me better, because many people have lost someone to one of those illnesses. But when it’s an invisible problem like mental health or suicide, people aren’t sure how to talk about it. They’d rather say nothing than end up saying something insensitive, stupid or becoming tongue-tied. It made for a lonelier life for me, though.

Despite her maturity, Mary was easily hoodwinked; that’s the problem with those who only ever see the good in people. I found it easy to appear saddened as she recounted some of the horrors callers had told her. Secretly, I couldn’t wait until she let go of my reins and I could experience their suffering first-hand.

You're stronger than us. Once you find your anchor never let go of it. No matter what.

No, sorry, bro. R.I.P didn’t know anything more about her. Even called the branches myself but kept getting different folk. Like finding a needle in a haystack, eh? Not sure what I’d have said anyway – ‘hi, which one of you bitches wants to listen to me die?’ Lolz. I replied with a ‘lolz’ of my own but nothing about this amused me.

It only took a couple of terms at the University of Sunderland before I understood that once you strip away a town's facade, they're all the same underneath.

I watched as Ryan’s fists clenched ever-so-slightly and he shifted his eyes towards mine. ‘There’s a reason they call depression a silent killer.

Ryan’s grin disappeared and he leaned in to whisper in my ear. ‘If I were you, I’d go home and check on Effie as soon as you can. Because I’d hate to think what she might have done after I finished with her this afternoon.

I began my mindfulness exercises and focused on how the water felt against my skin, how my toes felt as I raised my feet and they came into contact with the bubbles on the surface, and the pressure of the tub against my back. I focused on my breathing and allowed it to become slower and deeper, letting my tummy rise and fall instead of my back and shoulders. Then, as I was at my most relaxed, I pushed my bum forward, opened my mouth, slipped my head underwater and took the biggest gulp of water I could until it flooded my lungs. My brain’s immediate reaction was to force myself to the surface and cough the water out, but I fought hard against it and remained underneath, thrashing about like a fish caught in a net.

For the more vulnerable out there, once the darkness falls, so do their barriers. Night-time is their enemy, because with fewer visible distractions there’s more opportunity to dwell on how hopeless their lives have become.

Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.’ —Muhammad Ali

Because when you’re not considered to be a threat, you can get away with much, much more

Three sessions later she dismissed her therapist as ‘a dick’ and never returned.

I flicked through the library to choose from one of a dozen eBooks I’d downloaded but had yet to start reading. As a rule, novels bore me. The concentration it takes to remember what you’ve read and who is who as you swipe from one page to the next is arduous. I much prefer downloading a television programme and watching it on my phone instead. But Janine, our branch manager, frowned upon us doing that, one of many petty little dislikes she’d made us aware of since she’d taken charge seven months earlier