Fucking alarm, I don’t know why I set it, I always do it. The night before I have these grand plans where I am going to get up in the morning, go down the job centre, find a job by one, make thousands within a couple of months then fuck off to Thailand or Vietnam or some place like that were it’s hot and I don’t have to worry about no one. It’s like it would be so easy when you’re at the end of a bottle of vodka. When the alarm rings though I don’t give a shit about them plans, I just want to lob the phone out the window and try and sleep for another hour.
I can’t sleep now though, I’m wide awake. I feel sick but not as sick as I’ll feel later if I don’t get up soon and have a couple of cans. I struggle out of the bed and head to the living room to look for some dregs that are left after last night. I open the door and see the window is wide open, even worse, there’s red all over the walls, claret everywhere. What the fuck have I done? I can’t remember if anyone come round last night. I remember being at the pub, not a lot after that. I rush round all the rooms looking for a body but there ain’t one.
I sit down on the sofa, it’s got to be blood, what else can it be? The wall is covered in it, what the fuck am I going to do? If I’ve killed someone how comes they ain’t here in the house. I don’t get violent when I’m drunk. Oh fuck what have I done? I pick up the vodka bottle on the floor and drink the last couple of drops, gagging then rushing to the toilet to throw it all back up. I rest my head on the bowl, sweat pouring out of me, this is madness. I hear movement at the door, I shiver, my whole body shaking, it’s like I can see myself. It’s only the postman.
Where did I go yesterday? I went to the shop in the morning and bought a few cans of that strong lager went home and watched a couple of films, then I went down the pub. I can’t remember who I met. I know I was drinking with that old geezer that don’t say anything for a couple of hours, he bought me a few drinks. Strange old geezer, I can’t have brought him back here and offed him can I? He’d still be here, what if I got rid of the body when I was in a black out? I’ve gotta go down the pub and see if he’s there.
What if he ain’t there though? I think I’ve killed someone. Fuck this, what am I supposed to do? I need a drink but there isn’t anything left in the house, that means I’ve got to go out, the old bill could be waiting for me out there. I pick up my old jumper that’s lying on the floor and throw it on, hands still shaking, I can’t see properly, everything just seems blurred and not real. I take another look at the living room, just to check I ain’t going mad, it’s still there, big red marks all over the wallpaper, some on the floor too. This really ain’t good.
I open the door and look both ways, there’s some woman that lives a few doors down smoking a cigarette on the balcony, she turns and looks at me throws the unfinished cigarette and hurries inside her own flat. That’s not good, maybe she’s gone to phone the police. I run down the stairs and over the green, I need to get off the estate, find a shop that’s a bit further away, where nobody knows me. I’m starting to feel sick, I want to throw up again but I am trying to hold it in. At the bottom of one of the other blocks there’s a police car but there’s no police in it, I put my head down and walk faster.
This has been taken from my book of short stories called ‘The Unwashed’. All the stories are based on life on a London council estate and will be available from 25th August 2015. All digital copies of the book will be FREE and you can receive your free copy by entering your email address below. You will receive it on 24th August a day before it goes on Amazon.