S P L I T
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“Wake up, Colby,” the voice laughs, and Colby sits up, gasping for air as he looks around. He’s not sure how he got home, he doesn’t remember undressing and getting into bed. “You’re so weak.” he rubs his face, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. Mindless, really. He finds his clothes soaking in the tub, the water a dirty shade of red. Pulling the plug, he pulls them out, sighing as he waits for the water to drain. And after he’s finished bleaching the stains left in his tub, he smokes a few cigarettes and pukes a few times and lies in bed and stares at the ceiling for awhile. Pretty soon his alarm clock is blaring and he’s forced out of bed and into fresh clothes and back into his car where he spots a blood stain on the seat.
For a few hours Colby leans against the counter in the small gas station, staring blankly into space thinking of nothing in particular. For a few hours he walks around, turning labels forward and staring out the window. A few people come in, buying waters and candy bars. He watches as the older boy pockets a few things, but he doesn’t say anything. And a girl comes in, and he thinks maybe she tries to come onto him, and he thinks maybe he flirted back because somehow he has a scrap of paper with her number on it in his hands. He throws it away in the bathroom where he goes to wash his face. “Colby, Colby, Colby.” He stares in the mirror, water dripping from his face, his eyes tired and dull. “Who are you trying to kid, anyways, Colby?” After a few slow breaths he pushes himself away from the sink, leaning against the wall behind him, his fingers finding the folded picture in his front pocket. “Don’t try and fool yourself, Colby.” He shakes his head, dropping the picture and closing his eyes rightly.
For a few hours Colby leans against the counter in the small gas station, staring blankly into space thinking of nothing in particular. For a few hours he walks around, turning labels forward and staring out the window. A few people come in, buying waters and candy bars. He watches as the older boy pockets a few things, but he doesn’t say anything. And a girl comes in, and he thinks maybe she tries to come onto him, and he thinks maybe he flirted back because somehow he has a scrap of paper with her number on it in his hands. He throws it away in the bathroom where he goes to wash his face. “Colby, Colby, Colby.” He stares in the mirror, water dripping from his face, his eyes tired and dull. “Who are you trying to kid, anyways, Colby?” After a few slow breaths he pushes himself away from the sink, leaning against the wall behind him, his fingers finding the folded picture in his front pocket. “Don’t try and fool yourself, Colby.” He shakes his head, dropping the picture and closing his eyes rightly.