Soda
I opened our bedroom door. It was about ten. I was relieving Stirrup from duty, for Darry was taking a night job for the money. Pony was sitting on the bed, writing in a ragged old book. His leg was bandaged up to the knee, held straight out.
"Hey kid." I said quietly. He looked up.
"Hey Soda." He said softly. He closed the book and set it on the nightstand, and looked at the mess of school texts and papers littering the bed. He started to collect them in a pile, lifting his bad leg and immediately grabbing it and straightening it out, making a small noise. I quickly collected the papers and set them on the cot. "Thanks." He said.
I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the bed beside him. He shifted over and I pulled off my shirt.
"Time for your morphine and some sleep." I sighed. He didn't say anything. He hasn't been saying much of anything lately. Since we've been home.
I reached into my nightstand, grabbing a syringe and a small bottle. I filled it to three ounces. He watched me slowly. He didn't like needles. I didn't like needles. Darry didn't like needles. But it had to be done.
"Alright." I said, quiet still, stroking back his hair with my free hand. I set the needle on his wrist, where there was already blackening marks from other injections. I broke skin. And squeezed. He barely flinched. I threw the needle away and then helped him lay back. I then climbed in beside him. I threw an arm around him, and he burrowed his face against my shoulder. He's been sleeping like that often nowadays. I didn't object. It was just as much a comfort to me then to him.
He didn't fall asleep quickly though. He wiggled a lot beneath my arm. He used to fall asleep with such ease. He's changing fast, to a completely different person. An empty shell really. It's scares me. Pony's our kid, Darry and I. I'm not really sure what it's like to be a father, but I'm pretty sure it's like what I go through with Pony. And Darry too.
I do have to admit since Pony's been home he's slowly feeling better about what's going on. He's eating a little more, but is still awful quiet. Quiet is what got him into this mess. But how am I supposed to convince him to use his mouth instead of his head?
I sighed, gently rubbing my fingers into his neck. He tensed at first, then slowly began to relax. I was a master at putting Darry to sleep. This shouldn't be too hard.
It took longer then I thought, but I put him to sleep. Darry had come home before I finished. We looked at one another, then sighed. I listened to Pony's even breathing for hours, till finally climbing out of bed to see what Darry was doing.
I opened our bedroom door. It was about ten. I was relieving Stirrup from duty, for Darry was taking a night job for the money. Pony was sitting on the bed, writing in a ragged old book. His leg was bandaged up to the knee, held straight out.
"Hey kid." I said quietly. He looked up.
"Hey Soda." He said softly. He closed the book and set it on the nightstand, and looked at the mess of school texts and papers littering the bed. He started to collect them in a pile, lifting his bad leg and immediately grabbing it and straightening it out, making a small noise. I quickly collected the papers and set them on the cot. "Thanks." He said.
I kicked off my shoes and collapsed on the bed beside him. He shifted over and I pulled off my shirt.
"Time for your morphine and some sleep." I sighed. He didn't say anything. He hasn't been saying much of anything lately. Since we've been home.
I reached into my nightstand, grabbing a syringe and a small bottle. I filled it to three ounces. He watched me slowly. He didn't like needles. I didn't like needles. Darry didn't like needles. But it had to be done.
"Alright." I said, quiet still, stroking back his hair with my free hand. I set the needle on his wrist, where there was already blackening marks from other injections. I broke skin. And squeezed. He barely flinched. I threw the needle away and then helped him lay back. I then climbed in beside him. I threw an arm around him, and he burrowed his face against my shoulder. He's been sleeping like that often nowadays. I didn't object. It was just as much a comfort to me then to him.
He didn't fall asleep quickly though. He wiggled a lot beneath my arm. He used to fall asleep with such ease. He's changing fast, to a completely different person. An empty shell really. It's scares me. Pony's our kid, Darry and I. I'm not really sure what it's like to be a father, but I'm pretty sure it's like what I go through with Pony. And Darry too.
I do have to admit since Pony's been home he's slowly feeling better about what's going on. He's eating a little more, but is still awful quiet. Quiet is what got him into this mess. But how am I supposed to convince him to use his mouth instead of his head?
I sighed, gently rubbing my fingers into his neck. He tensed at first, then slowly began to relax. I was a master at putting Darry to sleep. This shouldn't be too hard.
It took longer then I thought, but I put him to sleep. Darry had come home before I finished. We looked at one another, then sighed. I listened to Pony's even breathing for hours, till finally climbing out of bed to see what Darry was doing.