With an agile gesture, almost like a reflex conditioned by the thunder tearing through the sky, Colin grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over his head.
Time seemed to have distorted, merging with the sounds of the storm outside. Hours seemed like minutes, and sleep stubbornly evaded his attempts to hold on.
His restless body stretched towards the wooden bookcase, his fingers meeting an icy sensation.
His senses, dulled by sleep's torpor, barely noticed the touch of his fingers as they grasped the cell phone. The device was as cold as the touch of a specter.
Slowly and carefully, Colin slid the phone under the covers. Its screen lit up with an almost blinding glow.
He squinted his eyes and looked at the time.
5 PM.
A long yawn escaped his lips. He pulled back the covers with a lazy gesture and sat up in bed, his fingers scratching his tired eye.
His slender, weary body seemed to defy gravity as he moved away from the bed.
It was as if ethereal roots were keeping him anchored in that dreamlike world.
With firm determination, he finally stood up.
His body, slender and fragile, seemed to defy gravity as he moved away from the bed, leaving behind the seductive embrace of sleep that stubbornly seduced him.
He navigated the chaos of his room, struggling to move forward as he stumbled over piles of clothes thrown carelessly on the floor, next to plastic bags full of garbage.
That sight transformed a house after a hurricane into an oasis of order in comparison.
Colin groped the wall, which was even colder than his cell phone, until he found the light switch.
The scene revealed by the sudden light was nothing but extreme sloppiness.
Manga and comic books were scattered across the floor, while empty packets of cookies and snacks blended into the landscape.
In the background, the computer lay disorganized on the table, surrounded by empty energy cans
Some cans were half full, others half empty.
A scene worthy of a health nightmare made even worse by the unbearable smell that permeated the air.
Even his neighbors had protested against the stench that, like an unwelcome intruder, infiltrated their kitchens, but their concerns were mere distant whispers to Colin.
In the midst of this pandemonium, Colin faced a small internal battle before mustering the courage to turn the door handle.
The sharp, drawn-out sound of the door opening was the prologue to his foray into the corridor leading to the kitchen.
His footsteps were a soft whisper, cushioned by the thick socks that, despite the chaos, still kept his feet safe from the unrelenting cold of the floor.
Finally, he reached the fridge and opened it with almost reverent care.
For a few precious seconds, he gazed into the fridge, his eyes scanning the array of gastronomic temptations.
The energy drinks and bottles of alcohol caught his attention, but he ended up finding a bottle of milk at the bottom.
Without much ceremony, he shook the carton of milk near his ear, as if hoping to uncover some hidden secret.
Then he brought the carton to his mouth, turning it over to enjoy the last drops and quench his thirst.
With a nonchalant gesture, he tossed the empty carton into the wastebasket next to the fridge.
The garbage, that eternal heap of neglect, was almost overflowing, as if rebelling against its master's indifference.
Colin's neglect had created a welcoming environment for unwanted fauna.
Mosquitoes buzzed lazily through the air, cockroaches sneaked through the cracks in the kitchen, and daring rats roamed the shadowy corners.
But Colin remained indifferent.
That pandemonium was an extension of his inner world, an externalization of his emotional disorder reflected in the bowels of his home.
His kitchen stood opposite the living room, and as he turned his head slowly, weighted by melancholy, his eyes fell on the floor of the doorway.
There, tangled in a carpet that had long since lost its original color, lay some letters.
Did someone write to me?
Colin struggled with the reluctance that prevented him from facing the pile of accumulated correspondence—a small mountain of problems he would rather avoid.
He settled unassumingly on the carpet and picked up the first letter.
It was from the bank, a distressing reminder of the debt that hung over him like a sword of Damocles.
It was about a reckless loan to finance an ephemeral business that had collapsed in a matter of weeks.
Colin shrugged, as if the weight of this situation could be eased by his indifference, and put the letter aside with a casual gesture.
The next letter offered no relief.
It was yet another eager demand for one of the many debts he had accumulated on his credit cards. It, too, was tossed onto the pile of neglected problems with the same disinterest.
This repetitive cycle continued for endless minutes until, finally, a singular letter interrupted Colin's monotonous routine of indifference.
[Yale University.]
Just as his eyes fell on the letter's sender, a bolt of lightning tore through the sky, sending out a blinding flash followed by a deafening bang.
Colin swallowed hard, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind. Although he was usually indifferent to everything, this letter was different.
With trembling hands, he held the envelope for a moment, studying it before mustering the courage to open it.
The envelope felt as heavy as his own heart. When it finally gave way, the muffled sound of the broken seal was like a dark omen.
The paper that emerged contained words that, for Colin, carried the weight of the world.Hypnotized, his eyes fixed on the black lines, he began to read. Each sentence was a stab in his chest, a new blow that deepened his anxiety with every word.
His breathing became heavy, almost unbearable, and a feeling of dizziness came over him, as if the very air was being sucked out of his lungs.
When he finished reading, his body felt heavier than ever. It was as if a ton of stones had been deposited on his shoulders.
"Rejected again. What a surprise…" he muttered to himself, crumpling the letter in his trembling hands.
Before getting up, Colin gathered the letters into a pile and threw them into the trash can, pushing them down with his foot.
Tired of the frustrations of real life, he sought refuge in a virtual world, where he felt stronger, more powerful, and in control of his own destiny — a place where the rules were shaped by him, not by others.
He made his way back to his room, switched off the lights, and turned on his computer with a flick of his big toe. Then he settled into his padded chair, pushing aside the energy drink cans, which tumbled across the bedroom floor.
The blue glow of the computer screen flooded the room.
"Right, time to relax." He put on his headset and, as usual, entered an online game where he wasted most of his time.
This was Colin's escape—a reality shaped by fast food wrappers, empty energy drink cans, and the relentless sound of mouse clicks.
Engrossed in the game, Colin allowed himself to get carried away, completely ignoring the passage of time and the responsibilities that awaited him in the real world.
However, even immersed in this digital universe, he was plagued by a deep emptiness.
It was as if, no matter how hard he tried, true happiness and personal fulfillment always eluded him. Yet he continued to play, frantically searching for a purpose in his existence in a world that seemed more meaningless every day.
While playing the game, he was abruptly interrupted by a notification.When he opened it, he realized that one of his friends had invited him to a call. Without hesitation, he accepted the invitation, eager for any kind of connection, even if it was only virtual.
"Colin?!" said one of his friends. "I've been waiting to tell you the news!"
Curious, Colin squinted, thinking the moderators had added a new event to the game.
"What's new? A weekend event?"
"That's not it. You know your ex-fiancée?"
"The one who used to play with us?" asked another friend on the call.
"That's the one. So, I decided to stalk her and found out she's getting married to a rich guy!"
Colin pressed his lips together and swallowed hard. It hadn't even been two months since they had broken up.
"So what?" asked Colin indifferently. "I won't be crying over a failed relationship."
"But it's strange that she's getting married so quickly," his friend commented. "She was probably already cheating on you. You know how women are—they never leave a guy without having someone else to fall back on."
"But are we going to play or not?", Colin snapped, irritated.
"Of course we are."
They ventured out for a few matches, but the truth was that Colin wasn't at his best. His life was more out of control than he'd like to admit.
Although he had never stopped trying to change, he had considerably reduced the frequency with which he dealt with his problems.
Instead, he often left them gathering dust, as if hoping they would simply disappear on their own.
"I'm so sleepy", said Colin, feigning a yawn. "I think I'll go to sleep…"
"Sleep? But you've only just arrived."
"Leave him alone. I bet he's going to cry over his ex-fiancée, hehe!"
"Cry?" Colin scoffed. "Do you really think one of the strongest wizards in the game would cry? Seriously?"
Colin abruptly left the voice chat, ripping off his headset and slamming it onto the table. A long, heavy sigh escaped his lips. With a slow movement, he rose from his chair and crossed the room to the bathroom opposite.
The bathroom light flickered as he flipped the switch.
Leaning over the sink, he faced his own image in the mirror. All he saw was the embodiment of failure—an exhausted face that cried out for a decent night's sleep and a proper meal.
"Shit life…" Colin muttered.
Colin was a swarthy man, with hair that was always disheveled, displaying a glistening blackness. His light yellow eyes sometimes glinted with a reddish hue under certain lighting.
He turned on the faucet and watched as the water rushed down the drain, as if carrying away his tangled thoughts.
A torrent of emotions hit him as he gathered water in his hands and splashed it on his face.
In the mirror, his reflection showed the traces of water running aggressively down his skin.
With a decisive gesture, he turned off the tap, grabbed the washcloth hanging on a rack behind him, and dried his face before hanging it back on the rack.
Back in the bedroom, he placed his hands on his hips and looked at the mess that dominated the space, mirroring the chaos that plagued his life.
I need to clean it up, but not now.
The rain, which had fallen with uncontrollable fury, had now slowed dramatically, leaving behind a trail of moisture and renewal.
The country was in the grip of a severe pandemic, turning daily routines into a challenge.
Colin was not a man to leave the house often. His forays into the outside world were brief and rare, but valuable—like balms for his tumultuous soul, moments when he could free himself from the bonds of everyday life and find some clarity as he wandered the damp, deserted streets.
"I think I need to take a walk."
Afraid of being suffocated by his own thoughts, Colin moved quietly through the room and put on his black All Stars, already worn out from countless journeys.
He slipped on his coat, ready to face the harsh weather outside, and picked up the umbrella resting by the door, like a soldier arming himself for battle.
Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a surgical mask, carefully fitting it over his face.
He sighed before turning the door handle and taking that first step out of his solitary refuge.
The long, black umbrella opened above him.
Walking leisurely, he felt the icy wind cut across his face and the bushes along the sidewalks rustle in response, releasing golden leaves that fell like autumn's tears.
The raindrops dripped lazily from the edge of his umbrella, forming small, glistening puddles that seemed to dance to the rhythm of his steps.
With each movement, the dangling drops hesitated for a moment before letting go, falling in lazy spirals to the ground.
It was a scene of melancholy stillness, a solitude shared with the empty city. There, in the midst of the storm and the pandemic, Colin found a strange peace.
He went to the square, a refuge near his home, where he often went to clear his mind.
Sometimes he would just sit there, gazing at an imaginary horizon, lost in his daydreams about how to escape from the dark pit in which he found himself.
Deep down, he knew these plans were fleeting fantasies, mere delusions that distracted him from the harsh disappointments of his reality.
After being dismissed from his routine job as an administrative assistant, life dealt him a series of brutal blows.
First, his father left, then his mother, leaving him plunged into loneliness. Soon after, his fiancée, who had shared his dreams and his pain, left him.
He now found himself in a deep void, a complete abandonment, left behind by everything and everyone.
Life had mercilessly knocked him out, and he was there, on the cold ground, waiting for help that never seemed to come.
He lifted his gaze and saw someone approaching.
"Colin?" called a female voice.
He looked up and squinted, trying to remember who it was.
"Hi…" he finally remembered. "Agatha?"
She nodded.Agatha was a school friend Colin hadn't seen for a few years.
Her face radiated youth, framed by short, layered brown hair that brushed against her shoulders. A pair of black tights hugged her legs, gracefully enhancing her figure.
She wore a pair of red All Stars, comfortably laced on her feet, and a round brown skirt that reached her knees, harmonizing with a plaid wool coat that accentuated her delicate waist.
Agatha had expressive brown eyes, which sparkled with vivacity, and her lips were adorned with vibrant red lipstick, creating a captivating contrast with her fair skin.
Balancing elegantly on her right shoulder, she carried a brown leather bag with gold details, which matched her earrings and a wristwatch.
Her look was a mix of classic style and contemporary touches.
"How long has it been?" she asked excitedly, sitting beside him, her eyes sparkling with joy at seeing him again.
Colin thought, but couldn't come up with an exact answer. The years had blurred together in his memory, and he no longer knew when he had last seen her.
"It's been a few years, I think…" he replied in a hesitant voice.
"I heard about your mother. I'm really sorry…" she said sincerely, touching his arm lightly. She knew how attached he was to his mother and how painful that loss must have been for him.
"Yeah… me too," Colin mumbled, looking away. He didn't want to talk about it, not with her, not at that moment.
An uncomfortable silence crept into their conversation. Agatha, for Colin, was not the friend with whom he would share his deepest secrets and most intimate dreams.
Even during their school years, when they spent hours together, there was a distance that she was never able to bridge.
Agatha always saw herself as just a nice colleague, who sometimes made him laugh, but who never touched his heart.
"I still wear it…" she said, holding up a pendant that hung around her neck.
In an unpretentious gesture, Colin had given her the pendant that now hung around her neck.
It was a gift given without much expectation, one last present before Agatha left town.
Little did he know back then that the pendant would become a symbol of their lost friendship, a connection to a distant past that he could barely fully understand.
"It still looks good on you," he said flatly, trying to be polite. He didn't remember the pendant or the day he gave it to her. To him, it was just another unimportant object that he could have given to anyone else.
Silence again.
"I heard you were getting married…" she said, so quietly it was barely audible.
"Yeah, I was. But it didn't work out," he replied bitterly.
Looking into Colin's eyes, Agatha felt a tightness in her chest.
They were eyes she had once known so well, but now they seemed different — colder, more distant than she remembered.
The years of distance between them had left their mark, and she could sense that something was deeply wrong with her old friend.
She wanted to help him, comfort him, hug him. But she didn't know how to do that without seeming intrusive.
"Colin… is everything all right?" she asked carefully, looking into his eyes with concern.
He glanced at her sideways and smiled. A fake, forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Always worrying about me, you really haven't changed," he said sarcastically, trying to disguise his pain.
Colin didn't want to open up to her, he didn't want to show his weakness. He preferred to keep up the appearance that everything was fine, even though inside he felt completely empty.
"It's just that you seem… different…"
He nodded.
"What have you been doing after school?" asked Colin, curious.
Agatha stared off into the distance, shook her head, and shrugged without enthusiasm.
"Nothing much. I went to university, but it's currently closed because of the pandemic. But I'll graduate soon, I hope."
"That's great!" He looked at the ring on her right hand, surprised. "An engagement ring?"
"Oh, this?" Agatha smiled as she stroked the ring, proud. "He's an amazing man. I think you two would get along well."
"I'm sure we would." The boy forced a smile, trying to hide his disappointment.
Agatha's cell phone rang inside her handbag, and she quickly answered it, anxious.
"Darling, I'll be right there," she said affectionately into the phone. "I just ran into a friend from high school, and we stopped to chat. I'll be home soon… I love you too."
She returned the cell phone to her purse and stood up, hurrying.
"Colin, I have to go." She said goodbye with a quick hug.
"All right, give your fiancé a hug for me," he said in a friendly voice.
She faced him again and pursed her lips in concern.
"Are you sure everything's all right?"
"Everything's fine, really," he lied with conviction.
"Don't you want my number? You could have dinner with me and my fiancé sometime…" she insisted gently.
Colin shook his head, refusing.
"Go live your life, you don't need me," he said with his detached tone.
The rain started again.The boy stood up and offered his umbrella.
Take it, or you'll catch a cold—maybe something worse."
"And you're going to stand in the rain?"
"Consider it an early wedding present. It's not much, but I guarantee it's of enviable quality. It's best not to underestimate the bizarre promotions in convenience stores." He joked with a wink.
Deep down, Agatha sensed that Colin was still the same as ever. She just smiled and gratefully picked up the umbrella.
"Are you sure it's going to be all right?" she asked again, hesitantly.
"Jeez! Agatha, your worrying is annoying, you know that?" he complained in a fake bad mood.
"Um…" she grunted, looking away. "Sorry…"
Colin touched her on the forehead with his forefinger.
"See you, Agatha," he said with a melancholy farewell tone.
Colin turned around and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his eyes.
"See you later…" she murmured, watching him walk away.
In an instant, Colin's mind cleared. A decision that had been pondered for a long time suddenly crystallized before him. His thoughts, once muddled, now lined up in startling clarity.
He knew exactly what he needed to do.
Turning the lonely corner, he headed towards an empty intersection, walking determinedly toward the edge of a bridge.
With firm steps, he climbed the railing, looking down into the emptiness below.
The drop seemed endless, with no visible bank nearby. He remembered the days when he had enviable stamina during his school years, when he took part in various physical activities. However, that strength was now only a shadow of what it once was.
In his current state, he knew he would be unable to swim to shore.
The drop was too high, and fatigue would probably overwhelm him before he even reached any safety.
The gentle evening breeze caressed his face as he gazed at the horizon, where the sun was setting majestically. Colin decided that this would be his last sight, so he closed his eyes, removed his mask, and let the wind blow it away, preparing himself for what was to come.
The boy was plunged into an abyss of self-loathing, feeling like a dead weight, a stain on society. Every day was an arduous internal battle, full of painful conflicts.
He saw himself as a parasite, a creature who sucked up the energy and resources of others without offering anything in return.
He understood that society had no place for parasites like him, and this only increased his despair. Over time, Colin began to cling to the little things—the small pleasures that still managed to bring a glimmer of joy and comfort to his broken heart.
However, deep down, he knew that he needed to find a greater purpose, something that would give him a genuine reason to live and fight, but he was exhausted from searching for it.
The only thing he wanted now was for it all to end.
In a final act of desperation, he closed his eyes and allowed his body to fall into the lake, seeking to end the torment that consumed him.
Splash!
As he sank into the dark waters of the lake, a whirlwind of memories invaded his mind. His father, his mother, his ex-fiancée, his old friend Agatha, and even his virtual friends appeared like ghosts in his mind.
A flashback hit him like an unexpected punch.
He saw the image of his mother lying in a hospital bed, a frail shadow of what she had once been. Her body was frail, her hair shaved, and her eyes glassy.
The doctors had given her the painful verdict that she had no more than a few weeks to live.
Colin was in that room, sitting in a chair next to the bed, in a state of semi-consciousness, almost dozing off.
However, the bright light in the room slowly woke him up. He opened his eyes cautiously, and the sight of his mother in that pitiful state almost made him break down in tears, but he remembered the main lesson his father had taught him.
"If you show weakness, no matter how small, the world will swallow you up. Don't kid yourself, Colin, they'll say no, but the world hates weak men."
His mother coughed, and Colin jumped to his feet. He approached his mother while shouting for a doctor.
"It's all right, darling," she said in a hoarse voice, staring into her son's face.
"Have you been fighting again?"
"Oh, that… I… fell," he lied, without looking her in the eye.
Colin knew she wouldn't believe him, but he also knew she wouldn't insist. He didn't want to worry her any more than he already was, and she knew it was a lie, but she didn't care.There were more important things to say, things she might never be able to say again.
His mother took a deep breath and continued.
"The doctors said I don't have much time, so we'd better have this conversation soon," she said firmly, without a trace of fear or sadness.
She wanted to be strong for him, for her beloved son.
"Wait, Mom, it's better to be silent, to conserve energy…" he said in anguish, trying to postpone the inevitable. He didn't want to hear those words. He didn't want to accept that his mother was dying.
"No, Colin, listen to me. I know I may not have been a good mother, and I've always been a bit absent because of my illness. Your father was always a bit hard on you, but…" she started to apologize, but was interrupted by him.
"You and Dad were the best!" he said as he held one of his mother's hands.
He could feel her pulse, weak and irregular, and he knew she was in pain. He wanted to ease her pain, but he didn't know how. At that moment, he could only give her his love and gratitude.
Colin's mother smiled and raised her arm, full of tubes, to touch her son's face, who was trying hard not to burst into tears.
She felt his skin, warm and soft, and remembered when he was a baby, when he fit in her arms. Her motherly heart was filled with pride and love for that little boy who had become a man.
"My son… I so wish we had more time. I had so much to tell you, but that's okay… just know that you're more special than you realize. So just give it time… don't live too fast worrying about everything. There will always be a tomorrow, another chance to make things better, another chance to start again. That's how it was with your father and me. We had to start again from scratch twice, but we didn't give up. And I had you — my greatest treasure," she said tenderly, looking into his eyes with a light that seemed to come from another world.
Colin kissed his mother's hand and nodded. He listened to her words as if they were sacred advice, a blessing that he would keep forever in his heart.
He knew she was right, that he had enormous potential and that he could overcome any difficulty.
Colin just needed to believe in himself and move forward.
His mother continued:
"All your father and I wanted was for you to be satisfied with yourself. I hope that in a few years' time, I hope you become someone you're proud of. After all, you have my blood and your father's blood… you are destined for greatness," she said with conviction, giving him a confident and proud smile.
As if awoken by a rude slap to the face, Colin opened his eyes and found himself submerged in a murky lake, air bubbles escaping his lips in a silent moan.
A sense of panic overwhelmed him, and he made a frantic effort to reach the surface, but something pulled him inexorably downward, as if the very darkness of the lake had claimed him as its own.
Colin's thoughts swirled in a whirlwind. Perhaps it was the memory of his parents' last wish, still echoing in his mind, or perhaps it was his instinctive, fierce will to fight for his life—something deeply rooted in his core.
But at that moment, none of this seemed to help.
His thoughts were dissolving. His desperate, almost instinctive struggle to cling to life was futile.
There, at the bottom of that lake, he was facing the inevitability of his own death.