[ WP ] Shatter me .

I saw you there, April 14th, 11:30ish PM. I was coming home from my work at the clinic. 
 
 I saw you there, plastic-and-metal in hand, teeth clenched. You were like a wooden ornament, tossed away into a box when the holidays and happiness were over. Subtly, your thumb plunged down, and your teeth clenched a bit harder, teeth grinding and squeaking like an old clock. I wondered if I should edge away, or call the police, or something. 
 
 You looked almost dead then, but in a peaceful sort of way that you see after the mortician has finished with the makeup and the formalities. I took a brave step forward. I spent the day working at the clinic, after all. It was my job, my duty, right? Now, taking in this grotesque *thing* on the sidewalk-bier, I'm not so sure. 
 
 *Knock knock. Who's there? * I tentatively shook you, accidentally too roughly, banging your head on the grimy brick. I fished my keys from my bag and got the small LED light out. Shining into your pupils. No response. 
 
 I did n't know what to do. The clinic was closed. 
 
 I called the police. 
 
 I saw you here, June 17th, 3:00ish PM. I was back in the clinic, assessing your progress, still in its infancy. I thought you were doing okay. Just a couple more months to go, I said. You smiled the weak smile that the malnourished, the weary, the exhausted can only eke out. 
 
 I saw you walk slowly out, into the waiting arms of the shadow-grey caretakers, who shoved you into the bus. Waiting for others. 
 
 I was still trembling, maybe with fear, maybe with joy, because I was the one who tapped on your shell, caused the first cracks to creep across the painted surface. 
 
 I saw you here again, much later, many months gone by. The tests had good results. You were okay now, I said. 
 
 You were crying, and it was happy. It was Christmastime again, and you told me about the ornaments in the home. 
 
 I could almost hear the shards falling away, a hint of something new shining through. 
 
 I saw you from here, behind the receptionists' desk, many more months passing by, and you were passing by the clinic. 
 
 You looked very happy, bag in hand, strides confident and wide. 
 
 I thought you were almost a new ornament. 
 
 I think, though, that I saw you in there, May 17th, 8:23 PM. I saw flashing red, blaring alarms, ambulance swiftly and haphazardly weaving its way past the clinic. 
 
 I did n't know what to say when I heard the rumors. *She was on such a great streak, * they say. *I thought... I heard... But... * 
 
 Like a window struck by force, shards still clung to your frame. Bits of your past clung onto your painted face. 
 
 I had failed, and I had not done enough. Deep inside I know I could n't have helped anything, that I could n't pick off the shards of relapse off your face. 
 
 I was a doll hidden in the dark, underneath another shell, and a child had lifted the shell to reveal the new evening. A new evening of *'' what if... I could have...'' *
