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Blurred eyes glared at the picture on the table. Today.
Today.
Today was Cole's birthday. Hank hadn't even noticed the day rolling around until it was already there, the grim reminder of his baby boy's death lingering on his conscious.
Don't do it Hank,
he tried to warn himself. Drinking again and again until he couldn't anymore was something of the past. Yet the bitter taste and the sweet burn of the whiskey seemed to numb his throat. Hank's brain seemed to fizz as the alcohol finally start to hit him, swirling in his blood just like his vision. Sumo would have whined, the old dog would have forgotten the strong stench of booze on Hank's body. He’d been gone for a year now. Hank was all alone. He truly tried to stop drinking, maybe clean up his act. Although Hank was never the one to break from old habits. He started to drink more and more when Connor left. Yet those final few words mumbled at Cole's grave always came back to him.
He promised Cole he wouldn't do this anymore.
But he also promised Cole that he’d live.
Hank choked down that memory with a swig of whiskey. Or, he tried to.
”Cole?! Cole! Come on buddy, the paramedics are here. Shh, shh.. I know it hurts,” Hank whispered. Blood was pooled around the both of them, mostly from Cole. When they slid the seatbelt dug into his neck, the obvious red mark covered with blood gave that away. Shards of glass from the window were in him as well. He was crying. Hank was crying.
Cole sobbed due to the pain, face red and puffy as he struggled to move. It was Hank’s fault. It was Hank’s fault. It had to be his fault.
The paramedics first took Cole onto a stretcher, but he grabbed onto Hank’s arm. “Daddy,” he quietly whimpered. “I don’t want to die! I’m scared!”
Those sickening thoughts filled Hank’s head worse than the hangover we would experience tomorrow. He could feel it. That buzzing of his head and the spinning of his vision only last for so long.
”I promise you’ll be okay, buddy! Daddy’s right here!”
Cole died the next day. Cole died and Hank’s world stopped turning. Why? That’s because Cole was gone. Forever. No more would Cole sing to his favorite song on the radio. No more would he be laughing and smiling while Sumo lied on top of him. Hank would no longer be able to whine on Christmas morning because Cole woke him up early, or take him trick-or-treating for Halloween. He was so smart, too. Smart and kind and was the best kid anyone could have wanted.
”Daddy, it looks scary over there! We should take a different way..”
They should have. The road was slippery and a truck skidded on a sheet of ice. Hank and Cole were hit and they rolled over. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, just a road. A dark road on a dark night, Hank and Cole singing along to what was on the radio. Those high beams were nothing to the beaming smile Cole gave Hank before they were hit. Time had seemed to move so slowly in that moment. A soft scream from the backseat let Hank know that Cole was hurt. So, so hurt.
Connor was right. It wasn’t his fault that his son died. The doctor was so high on red ice he programmed the machine wrong. That one person who felt so weak and defenseless decided to use a fistful of red death to take away the pain.
Hank was the one who took that pain and carried it. God, he still does. If only Connor was still there. If only Sumo was still there. If only Cole was still there. The distraught man looked around for something to satisfy himself with. The dreary picture of his son made a lump grow in his throat still. One he could never seem to swallow.
The revolver seemed to glisten in the light. When Hank finally looked at it, he seemed almost transfixed. Cole voice never failed to leave his ears. ”I love you!”
Fuck it, Hank thought to himself. If he was going to die, better do it somewhat sober.
So, Hank put the bottle away, vigorously wiping the tears from his eyes as he tried so hard to forget. Except he didn't want to forget. He didn't. Cole was his life, and he still was. No amount of pain would ever change that, and Hank was okay with the ending he never hoped for. Grinning, small and weak, Hank only knew one thing that could keep him going.
He didn't have to let go. Now, Hank decided, he would never have to. Now, Hank decided, was the right time.
Now was the right time.
The gun was loaded, and Hank pressed it to his temple, where his LED would be.. If he was a an android. A strong, powerful android who could rise above this. He was human, though, so it wouldn’t matter.
Click
It was empty.
Hank spun it again, shaking as he raised it to his temple once more. His heart pounded against his chest.
He pulled the trigger..
Cole Anderson
Born 09/23/2029
Died 10/11/2035
Hank Anderson
Born 09/06/1985
Died 09/23/2043