It had been seven months and eleven days since Toby Clayton collected his final pay cheque. The company was liquidated, and he was one of 48 workers who now faced the future of seeking work elsewhere or joining the ever-growing list of unemployed people. He was a qualified Millwright, well respected by his bosses and peers as a top-class tradesman, and had been with the company, Lexicon Brothers, for six years and ten months. In the current economic climate, job hunting has become a task of almost Herculean proportions. With an ever-increasing population, mostly through people coming in from other locations, and a diminishing job market due to new technology and mechanization, jobs were scarce. Any chance of employment hinged largely on having contacts in the right places. Most of his contacts were in the same situation as him. As the months passed, he became more desperate as he watched his family also losing hope as their ‘few’ pennies dwindled away. For a short while, family and friends tried helping, but they too began to drift away as they had their own challenges to face.

The weight of his dwindling resources and the growing despair finally led Toby to make a desperate decision. On this particular Monday morning, he got out of bed, as was customary, showered, dressed, had a cup of coffee — breakfast was a luxury now rarely enjoyed and left his home. His wife, Tammy, was under the impression that he was going job hunting. What he had in mind was something he could not share with her or the children, Jason, his thirteen-year-old son, and Janet, his nine-year-old daughter.

At the town’s central bus station, he boarded the bus heading away from town in a southerly direction to an area that offered secluded spots far from human traffic. The haversack, normally used for sandwiches and a flask, now held the five-metre rope from the toolshed. Desperate as he was and having planned this day’s action, his mind was still in turmoil.

He knew his planned suicide was not the answer, as it went against everything he had been taught and the religious precepts he was raised on. Still, he felt that there was just no way left for him but to exit this life. Tears flooded his eyes as the faces of his beloved wife and their two children flashed across his mind. For an instant, the hesitation of his intended deed registered. Then the thought of his predicament melted away that indecision, causing him to reaffirm his plan.

Staring through the window, as the bus passed the surrounding scenery hardly registered in his mind. They had long passed the city limits and were now travelling through the countryside. All he was waiting for was the point at which he would alight to walk to his intended final destination and planned death.

The bus pulled up outside the Golden Pond village post office, where he got off with three other passengers. A group of elderly folk, all in a happy mood, chatting away, got on the bus before continuing its journey. He started to walk down the road, mentally registering the route he was to take. It had been some time since he last visited this area. He and his family had been here on a couple of occasions, camping in the wooded area alongside a gently flowing river that meandered through the countryside.

Turning left at the third corner, he continued his walk. He passed the last building where the paved road ended, and the rest of the journey was a dirt road. At that point, he realized that it was a walk of roughly four kilometres to the river. As he walked, on the exterior he appeared calm, but on the inside, he was devoured by emotional turmoil. He recalled previous trips to this place; beautiful memories of happier times of him, remembering his son and daughter playing in the cool waters of the river, and at times venturing into the deep part to swim, testing their swimming abilities against the gentle current. As he reminisced, only for a brief moment, a slight smile appeared on his face. It only lasted a few seconds as he again focused on his predicament and his intention.

Finally, he saw the river in the distance, the sunlight appearing to set the water’s surface alight. Not far to go now. He now had to walk upstream along the river’s edge to the point where he was to enter the wooded area that hugged the river on this side. Yes, this was it. He turned onto the path now leading away from the river’s edge and into the densely wooded portion. Ahead, he got a view through the clearing where they had set up the tents when camping. It was empty, as this time of the year was not considered a holiday period.

Stepping into the centre of this clearing, round in shape and twenty metres in diameter, he dropped the haversack. His eyes were searching for the tree he wanted to use. It had to be one that was suited for his suicide. He picked out one on the side to his right and walked up to it for further inspection. No, this was not the one to use. It was sturdy and had a good height, but there was an element that was missing.

Once again, turning around and trying to decide upon another possible tree. As his eyes searched, now also looking deeper into the wooded area, he laid eyes on one that was about eight metres further back into the wooded section. Making his way to it, pushing away low branches and foliage that hindered his progress towards the chosen tree. On close inspection, he noticed that it had a good, solid branch about the right height for his intention. Not too difficult to climb and a clear drop to the bottom.

He started by tying the rope around his neck, making the correct knot, leaving only the other end to be tied to the branch. This meant that he could climb up onto it, tie the rope to the branch, and jump off. With the fall and sudden jerk on his neck from the stretched rope, his neck should snap, causing instantaneous death. As he was about to make his final, irreversible move, a voice cut through the stillness of the woods.

If you or someone you know is struggling with mental health challenges, thoughts of self-harm, or overwhelming despair, please contact your local emergency or crisis line.