Do what I say or die.

I wake up with something plastered to my face. I pull it off, the taut plastic label slowly ripping out my now out of control stubble. It hurts but so does everything. Light seeps through half closed blinds, an erratic stream making the surroundings just about visible, what time is it? I look at what I’ve just pulled off my face, it’s the back of a label from a cider bottle, high percentage so it seems. I pay no mind and sit up; my head feels like a mining excavation. The woman lying next to me looks out cold, I sit up and pull on my dirty pants from last night along with a puke-stained shirt.

“Do what I say or die.”

Shut the fuck up.

I amble over to my bedroom door, there’s a whole pizza lying face down blocking my path. Come to think of it I am starving. I peel the coagulated slice from the dirty floor and brush of the dirt, perfect. Breakfast sorted. I go downstairs, why is everything so dark? Did no one think to open a fucking curtain. Jesus. Spencer is passed out in the hallway, fucking lightweight. I take a bite of the pizza, yuck, I chuck it on the floor, not my problem.

“Do what I say or die.”

Kitchen, yes. Water, hydration. That’s what I need, then I’ll feel right as rain. There’s a massive line of something on the counter, I’m pretty fucking tired… *sniff* much better. I open the fridge door, not really sure why, I close it and open it again as if by magic it will have refilled and give me what my heart desires. What does my heart desire? I go over to the tap and pick up a glass from the overflowing sink. I rotate my hand to avoid the dirty dishes which are almost touching the tap. I down the glass of water in one go. AHHHH! I feel like a God! I can do anything. Maybe I should check on everyone else? I snort another line and head to the living room with a spring in my step.

“Do what I say or die.”

Jesus Christ, what the fucks gone on in here? Bodies are piled around the room like the Somme. I think I know about four of the upwards of twenty sleeping outlines littered around the room. They look strangely peaceful, an Ambien ridden trance, nice, I’m jealous. Why did I come in here again? What was I doing just now? What happened last night? What happened last week? What happened?

“Do what I say or die.”

I leave the crime scene and go back into the hallway, maybe I just need more sleep. I kick Spencer hard, in the ribs. He barely groans but turns over with a slimy movement of his lips, a shower will sort him out… probably. I’m just about to head back to my quarters when I notice something on the ground. Spencer has an indented pink outline on his side, what was he sleeping on? It looks rectangular. Fucking idiot. I walk over to where he was sleeping, steering clear of any food, rubbish stacks and sharp objects. Ahhh it’s a book, a small little black notebook. Must’ve been posted, it’s close enough to the letterbox, a thin shiny receptacle into the outside world, fuck off. It’s nice actually, looks classy. I pick it up, it feels light yet heavy, the weight of the world and the delicacy of a feather. I bring it into the kitchen.

“Do what I say or die!”

I traverse the sticky, obstacle ridden floor. My feet are jet black, and I sit at the kitchen table. I clean the table of litter with a sweep of the hand and place the black notebook in the newly cleared space. I suppose I should look through it. I’m a bit buzzed but this seems important, I never get post. One more line should sharpen my senses… *sniff* ok, everything seems less all-encompassing now. I open the book, nothing, blank pages. I grab the end of the notebook and flick it page by page. Something falls out and gently glides to the floor with an almost alien like grace. I bend down under the table, a glorified swamp of clutter. It’s a piece of paper, I stretch my arm, this is more energy than I’m used to exerting at this time of the day. I finally reach it and grab it with my two fingers, like a thin cigarette. I could use a cigarette actually. I manoeuvre my body out from under the table and sit up glassy eyed. I put the paper on top of the book and look for a cigarette, luckily there’s one right next to a lighter and a half-eaten bowl of cereal, now mush. I pick it up and light it, taking an intoxicating, healing drag. Oh yeah, the paper. It’s upside down, it’s blank. I pick it up and turn it over which makes my eyes bulge out of their sockets. $20,000. A cheque for $20,000. This is odd. I sit there in stunned disbelief for a moment, cigarette hanging from my mouth, ash falling like slushy day-old snow.

“Do what I say or die.”

I snap out of my trance and realise I have the book! I search through it, scanning each and every page, they pass me, a white blur of wood. Wait, hang on, writing! I’ve gone too far, I reverse, slowly flicking the pages with care until A-ha! Yes! Here it is. There’s a message on this page. I can’t see, my contacts have dried out and sit wedged in my eyes like crusty shells. I tell the book to wait out loud. I bolt up the stairs, passing Spencer who’ still not moved an inch since I kicked him and this book changed my reality. I charge into my room and route through my drawers, it takes me a moment before I find them and am able to speed back to the kitchen. Here I put on my glasses and read the letter, I’m assuming it’s addressed to me.

“Dear Rupert,

I hope this message finds you well. I’m sure it will not. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Me and your mother are mortified at your behaviour recently and to be frank, you’re tarnishing the family name. Since you moved away you’ve been nothing but trouble. My friends and colleagues often ask what you’re up to and I have to lie to them, can you imagine how embarrassing this is for me? You’ve grown unmotivated and sloppy, behaving like a labourer or hooligan. I’m finding it increasingly hard to be able to offer you any sort of position after your education, I’m sure you understand. You need help and we can’t keep offering you donations if you’re going to spend it all on indulgence. Attached is your last sum we’re willing to give you at this moment in time. I’ve checked you into a rehab facility and I urge you to go for not just your sake, but the family’s sake. Our reputation is on the line here son. I cannot fathom the way we’d feel if we didn’t intervene now. I pray you take me and your mother’s advice and take the programme seriously, we won’t be able to visit you as everything is rather hectic back here, but this is of the upmost importance. Do what I say or die.

Yours,

Dad. “

I leave the book open and head back upstairs. I think I will go back to bed actually; I am exhausted. I pull the blinds tightly shut from their indifference and lie down next to my companion.

I don’t know how long I’ll rest but I think it might be a while.