H A Y E S
I have begun to realize that people like me are just destined for failure. Some days I can’t even seem to get out of bed in the morning, can’t even make it to my classes because I lay awake at three in the morning, considering ending it all. People like me don’t get far in life, hell, we don’t get anywhere other than to mental hospital for the scars on our arms, and shit in our heads. If ‘God’ is real, then I guess he just put me on this earth to die because I can’t seem to find my purpose anywhere.
Then there are people like Mabel Baker who are put here to do good and make people laugh and have rebellious fun. She’s a good person, she doesn’t know it, but she is. Sure, she has the vocabulary of an angry sailor, and knuckles of a street fighter, but that girl is definitely going to get farther in life than I am. And I want her for that, but I’m not going to be selfish, and admit my attraction to her, then take my life soon after.
I’m going to be dead soon, I don’t want to put her through that kind of pain. The kind of gut wrenching pain that feels like you’re literally being ripped in half, and when your heart drops to your stomach the moment you see the person you love lying dead, and pale in a coffin.
I may be a selfish person, but I would never put such a broken, angry girl through that much pain. I don’t even know how I’m feeling when it comes to Mabel Baker, all I know is that I would gladly strip her of her clothes, and shove her face in my bedsheets to stifle her moans.
I want to be the stain on her lips, her pillowcase.
But she needs someone gentle, someone down to earth to calm the raging black blizzard that roars beneath the miles of her pale skin. That isn’t me, I’m a man with black lungs and scarred wrists and pills I have to take every morning I wake up in order to keep myself somewhat sane. I can’t seem to stay sober anymore, I’m always drunk off my ass in order to drown out the suicidal thoughts with terrible tasting liquor.
But sometimes I can’t even feel a hint of happiness when I’m completely wasted, sometimes it’s worse when I’m drunk. That’s the good thing I guess, I have no conscious when I’ve drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniel’s, then I have no control– sometimes I’m even numb.
I’m thinking about killing myself.
There’s a bitter laugh that pushes past my chapped lips, a bad taste in my mouth from all the whiskey I have drank in the short period of time I’ve been walking around aimlessly outside. It’s hard to stand on my own, my once steady walking has turned into a drunken stumble, and every few steps I end up collapsing against the nearest building for support. I honestly don’t even know where the hell I am, I’ve been stumbling around Seeder Grove in the midst of the night for I don’t know how long.
I don’t even remember why I started drinking in the first place. All I know is that this shitty sadness inside of me refuses to go away, and I wish I could drown my sorrows in drugs, and booze. There’s a small blue pill that sits in a clear baggy in my sweatshirt pocket, and I’m just milliseconds away from swallowing it down with a mouthful of Jack. I don’t even know what Amir called it, I just told him I wanted to be happy, and that is what he handed me.
My downfall. Happiness.
Without thinking another drunken thought, I pull out the small bag, rip it open with angst as if it’s done something terribly wrong to me. But the truth is, I’ve done something terribly wrong to myself, and I don’t know how the fuck to fix it. The pill is a tiny blue circle, and I nearly drop it thanks to my trembling fingers, but I quickly pop it into my mouth like it’ll somehow solve all of my problems.
I just might O.D on Main Street of Seeder Grove, and that just might be the best thing for me right now. There’s an instant buzz that fills my body, along with the warmth of Jack Daniel’s, and the bitter taste of coffee from earlier. I can’t see straight, everything is so bleary and the street lights are brighter and the traffic is louder. My ringing phone sounds like a semi horn, and I wince at the sound.
My body is moving, but I’m not sure where, or why, and I feel the hardness of brick against my spine before I slide to the concrete. My hands are trembling, my fingers so blurry that it looks like I don’t have any, and the feeling is honestly like heaven. The damned organ in my chest is slamming against my aching rib cage, pounding so loud I can hear it in my ears. I let out a shaky sigh, swallowing the last bit of Jack from the glass bottle, and I stare at it– stare at the clear, empty square bottle before throwing it into the oblivion. I hear it shatter, and it’s almost louder than my ringing phone.
Maybe I shouldn’t have mixed pills with alcohol.
“H-hello?” I don’t realize I’ve answered until my breathy voice speaks into the phone.
Why am I here, and why did I answer the fucking phone?
“Hayes?” It’s my mom– of course it’s my fucking mom. “Hayes, sweetheart, are you alright? You don’t sound so well.”
My jaw clenches, fingers curling around the small device with my mother on the other end. This is just my fucking luck, she just had to call when I’m somewhere far from sober. She has to think I’m okay, it all is so much better that way, then I won’t be a failure to her.
I’ve already failed her countless times before.
“I-I’m f-fine, Ma’ma.” My words come out slurred, and breathy when I try so hard to sound normal.
I’m the eldest son, I’m supposed to be setting a role for my younger siblings. But I’m failing them– right now that’s what I’m doing, failing my whole family by sitting on the side of the street tripping balls. I hear a cry come from my mother’s lips, causing that stupid ass organ in my chest to sink to my gurgling stomach.
“You’re not fine, sweetheart.” She knows, fuck, she knows. “It’s gotten bad again, hasn’t it? Where are you right now, Hayes? I’m leaving the house right now.”
There’s a knot in my throat, and I can’t breathe.
“No,” I cough, wipe my mouth when I get saliva on my lips. “Mom, d-don’t come, I-I promise it’s not w-what it s-sounds like. I can t-take care of my-myself, okay?”
She sniffles on the other end of the phone, and I can hear her grabbing for the keys to the minivan, the distant shuffling of her house slippers as she rushes out the front door. The sound of the screen door slamming shut behind her has me wincing, my breathing coming out labored.
“You are not okay, dammit!” Mom scorns through her tears. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time, haven’t you? You haven’t been okay for a while, am I right? Is it the medication, are they not working? Tell me what’s going on right now, son, or I’m calling 9-1-1.”
My head is pounding, ears ringing as I hear the car door slam on the other end. My eyes ache, and any moment now I just might break, but I don’t want that– I don’t want to break.
“I’ve just been d-drinking, Ma, okay?” Not a complete lie, but it’s a believable one. “The m-medication is working f-fine, I promise, it’s h-helping me more than the l-last one.”
She’s silent on the other end, I can tell she hasn’t started the engine yet.
“Please, Mom,” I breathe out. “I’m okay, j-just drinking, t-that’s all.”
And taking nameless pills that make me feel like I’m going to black out any second, but you really don’t need to know that.
“You promise, Hayes Michael Winchester?” Shit, she’s used my full name, she’s pissed.
My eyes water, heart running marathons in my heaving chest, throat burning from the endless amounts of liquor I have consumed. It pains me to lie to her, but it’s for the best– for her sanity.
“I-I promise, Mom,” I shiver from the cold that runs down my spine. “I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetheart,” I can hear a sad smile in her voice. “Please call me tomorrow morning, okay? I’m worried about you.”
My grip loosens on the phone, fingers becoming numb from the cold, and the tight hold I had on the device. There’s a shaky breath that slips past my lips, and for a second I’m afraid she’ll change her mind about hanging up, and come find me. But I force myself to wet my chapped lips again, opening my mouth to speak words that will more than likely come out stuttered. Thank you drugs.
“I will, M-mom.” I mutter, and without giving her the opportunity to reply, I hang up.
I drop my phone, listen as it clatters to the cement sidewalk, and not an atom in my worthless body gives a single shit if the screen is shattered. But then my body is shaking, and I know it’s not from the cold, but from the drugs and the liquor and the millions of emotions that are now becoming nerve wracking. Fear is stabbing me in the side– the chest and it’s harder for me to breathe more than before and I don’t think I’m going to make it out of this I think I might throw up because my head is spinning and my ears are ringing.
My fucking head feels as if I were in high school all over again with my face being slammed into my locker, and it’s honestly a feeling I absolutely hate. I’ve never felt like this before, not with the other drugs Amir has given me, so why the hell is this one making me feel like I’m about to die in the most horrible of ways? I’m gasping by the time I search blindly for my phone again, panic surging through my body with the buzz of Jack Daniel’s, and drugs.
I can vaguely make out her name on my glowing white screen as I scroll through my contacts, the bleary haze that has settled over my vision almost making it impossible for me to see. My chest is heaving by the time I press the call button, but I don’t seem to be able to get any air into my worthless lungs, and I’m beginning to panic because I’ve never felt this way before– I hate it.
Pick up. Pick up.
My legs are beginning to go numb, and I don’t think it’s from the cold air that surrounds me, which has me scared out of my skin. This was all such a bad idea, I should have never gone to Amir’s in the first place. Maybe I should just kill myself right here, right now, and it all will just go away. I need help.
“Hey, Hayes, so listen, I’m really sorry about earlier,” Her bubbly laughter fills my ears along with the sound of blaring music in the background. “I didn’t mean to upset you, or anything.”
I can’t seem to get my words out, my brain feels frozen, and I’m gasping for air. Cars are speeding past me, honking their loud horns, and running red lights that nearly blind me more than I’m already blinded.
“Are you okay?” The music has abruptly stopped, and there’s another female voice speaking to Mabel, but she quickly shushes her. “Hayes, what’s going on?”
“M-Mabel,” I manage out, and a painful cough instantly follows. “I-I don’t know where I am, and-and I don’t know w-what I just t-took, but I can’t br-breathe, and I’m s-scared.”
There’s pained silence.
“Who the hell are you talking to, babe?” The strange female says to Mabel.
“Riley, shut the fuck up, and go get the keys!” Mabel is yelling and I hear them running around frantically and I feel like I’m floating. “Right now!”
I groan in pain, the pounding in my head growing worse by each second that ticks by, and I’m slowly beginning to give up hope.
“Hayes,” Mabel speaks softly into the phone, and I can’t help but breathe out a sigh. “It’s going to be okay. Just tell me what you see around you, any signs– buildings, anything.”
“I’m scared.” I find myself whispering again.
I have never felt more terrified in my life.
It’s almost as if I have no control over my mouth anymore, no control over anything. My body is trembling everywhere, and I can’t seem to wrap my shitty head around the fact that I’m losing the ability to move my fingers.
“I know,” there’s a slamming door on the receiving end, and I flinch. “I know, Hayes, just tell me what you see, and we’ll come find you, okay? We’re getting into the truck now.”
Just as she says this, I can vaguely hear the engine of her pickup truck turn on, then the hushed, frantic whispers of the foreign voice. I’m quick to look around me, but my eyes are seeing nothing but vague shapes, and images. There’s a store across the street, I think, and the sign is a glowing orange, and white.
The hardware store.
“There’s the h-hardware store across the s-street, I don’t know,” my teeth are chattering. “I c-can’t really s-see anything, M-Mabel.”
I hear her cussing at her friend, saying something filthy that I can’t quite make out since my world is spinning. A gasp for air coming from my lips is louder than my pounding heart in my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes it’ll fix my problems, but I have no luck.
“Okay, it’s okay, Hayes,” her words are rushed, and frantic as I hear rubber against cement. “We’re on our way right now– just right down the street.”
“Please hurry.” I hiccup, and it’s the most pathetic thing that has ever escaped my lips.
There’s sweat coating my forehead even though I feel as if I’m being held in a block of ice. My fingers are trembling now, and I’m not quite sure how much longer I can keep a tight grip on the phone, palms sweating.
“Hayes, I see you!” She says frantically, and I can vaguely make out the blurry shape of her truck. “We’re right here!”
I can’t hold onto the phone any longer, my hands are shaking too damn much, and it goes clattering to the ground again. There’s a sharp pain in my chest every time I attempt to inhale, but it hurts too much to breathe, so I end up taking in short breaths of air– panting. Her truck screeches to a stop by the sidewalk and both the doors are swinging open to reveal two different figures and both of them are rushing towards me.
“Fuck, he’s having a panic attack.” I hear one of them say, but I can’t decipher who.
I’m freezing cold and sweating and I’m so grateful they’re here to save me it feels like there’s broken glass in my lungs. They rush closer, close enough to me to make me feel trapped, and claustrophobic, but I swallow down my rebuttals.
“Holy fuck, he’s hot.”
“Riley, shut the hell up,” she snaps, her voice growing fainter to my ears. “Help me get him in the car.”
There are four arms touching me and two separate voices speaking at once and only one voice seems to stick out the most. I groan when they lift me off the hard surface of the sidewalk, my flimsy arms wrapping around the nearest person for some sort of support.
“Holy fuck, he’s heavy too.”
“Riley, I swear to the mighty dark lord Satan.” Mabel is smoothing back my wild hair, and I don’t think I can stay awake anymore. “Hayes, come on, stay with me. Riley, open the back door!”
I want to tell her I’m sorry for causing such trouble, for being selfish enough to call her out into the middle of the night just to come pick me up off the side of the road, for not liking her back. But I can’t seem to speak because my teeth are chattering so much, and my body is so weak that I have to lean on both of the girls to keep myself upright. I collapse into the backseat of Mabel’s pickup truck, the side of my face pressed into the soft, cushioned seats, and it takes everything in me not to puke on her clean cushions.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were friends with someone this hot?” The stranger speaks loudly from the front seat. “What happened to telling your best friend everything?”
What happened to using your inside voice? I want to spit angrily, but the nausea is overpowering.
“Riley! Shut the fuck up! This is serious.” Mabel’s voice is loud enough to cause me to wince. “Hayes, keep your eyes open, you hear me? Stay with us, Hayes!”
I lose all control of myself, and I puke in the floorboard. I can hear the stranger’s muffled groans of protest from the passenger seat as Mabel speeds down the street, and I continue to retch in the backseat of her truck. Mabel is reaching behind her, rests her hand on my back when my shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably. I like it when she touches me. I gasp for air.
“Sorry.” I rasp.