His hands shook.. he took in deep breaths trying to steady himself, trying to steady his whole life.
It was beautiful under the old tree. He imagined this his secret place, his sanctuary, they didn't know how often he sat here and just wished and, .... just cried..
It had been his childhood wish to be a man.. well wasn't that the wish of all young boys? He'd wished to be free of moms' rules and regulations, he'd wished to be free of a father that took his mother for granted. But even when he had become a man, he was not satisfied.
It just didn't seem to be fair, they took for granted that he was strong, that he knew what to do.. Did it have to be that way, why did the oldest have to be strong? He walked around each day in a fog, life moving around him like a carousel, nothing different, the same thing, round and around..
He placed the little box on the ground next to the large root. Laughing, he rolled up his sleeve.. Oh if they could see him now.
All of his paraphenalia laid out, this was his escape, the little bag, the spoon, the hypodermic... He tightened the belt around his arm..
The tree hummed, leaves rustled, he felt the liquid burn through his veins, the magical mood assaulted his brain.. he leaned back against the tree.. the branches swayed to and fro... And he heard the song..
don't you cry
go to sleep my little baby
"Oh God!.. I suspected, I knew something was wrong.. I put it off, vowing to talk to him later, each time I saw him, I said to myself.. I am going to talk to him, but, it was always... later.."