Colin Haynes

The Short Story Of Collin Haynes

Colin takes the last few steps up the driveway to his house. Hayleen isn't home yet, good. He doesn't stop to take his shoes off at the front door, like he has been told to do since he was five years of age. He heads straight upstairs to his room to take out the secret bottle of pills he has been keeping. Pentobarbital, the knock off brand of Nembutal. He's supposed to take them when he can't sleep but he has a much better plan for these. It's been weeks since he had a good day, and he is just done. He wants all the pain to go away, all the misery and the hopeless thoughts. That's what these pills will do.

Colin lets his backpack fall to the ground looking for the three by five index card he wrote yesterday. He was never sure what he was supposed to write. "Sorry I'm a fuck up and shit son"? or maybe write "Sorry for being such a waste of space". He didn't write any of those things. He simply wrote "I'm sorry, please forgive me." He stalks out of his room, turning only to shut his bedroom door.

With the bottle of pills in one hand and the note in the other, Colin enters the bathroom. I'm shaking, he realizes. Can I go through with it? Can I end this life? He's staring at himself. One more good look at the pathetic, piece of shit, useless son he thinks of himself to be. He sets the note behind the faucet of the sink and takes the bottle in one hand. Pentobarbital, 50mg, take 30 minutes before bed. He laughs to himself, "This is going to be one heck of a long sleep."

The lid falls into the sink as he pops it off. The pretty white pills are now resting in his cupped hand. Here goes nothing, he thinks. He tries to swallow them all at once, but he chokes. He sighs to himself. Is this a sign of sorts? He takes five at a time, quickly before the pill can do its job and just make him sleepy. Before he knows it, all thirty of the pills have disappeared from the palm of his hand.

This is it. He's done living. He's done it. It's done. He's going to die. I'm going to die. He's on the ground now,  his cheek against the cold tiled ground. His right arm is trapped between his body and the ground, the left is on top of the toilet lid, he can't even feel his legs. The last thing he thinks is "I don't want to die."

---

Hayleen shuts the door to her car, smiling as she finishes her conversation with her mom. "Yeah mom, I'll clean my room, promise. Then you have to make my favorite dinner!" Her mom laughs on the other end. Hayleen knows her mom won't make her, her favorite dinner. It's just a running joke between the two.

"I'm home," she yells into the house. She was expecting the typical "Good to know I have to live through another day of torture," from her younger brother, but never got one. Maybe he isn't home yet, she wonders. She shrugs her shoulders as she heads towards the couch. That just means more TV time for me.

Not even ten minutes into the show, there is a knock at the door. She groans when she gets up. Without even looking in the peephole, she opens the door. It revels Jeremy, Colin's best friend.

The small smile Jeremy had when the door open slowly fades into his trademark smirk. "Colin home?"

Hayleen makes an over exaggerated disgusted face to play along. Right before she speaks she flashes a smile, "Haven't seen him since I've been home. He didn't answer me when I yelled into the house like usual so guess he isn't. I'm sure he'll be here soon if you want to come inside and wait?"

Jeremy nods, smiling. He has known Hayleen just as long as he has known Colin, thirteen years. Hell, he usually just walks into the Haynes house... but something felt off today. Colin just wasn't himself at school, and Jeremy had thought he wouldn't be home because of it. The last thing he wanted was to do was walk in on Hayleen watching something, which she swears up and down, is not porn again.