The Games Up
September 17th 2007
Looking out over a garage in Brighton that backs on to my fathers House.
A CD box with white traces of cocaine across it Smeared Into tiny crevasses.
‘Bex’ as I named her sleeps away on her Futon floor mattress.
The sun peaks over the White buildings in hove echoing the sound of chirping sea gulls, Shadows of each bird swoops a little closer to the window.
I don’t know how I got here? I scrape and lick the CD case again and again but it’s just not doing anything anymore. I’m wide-awake and the bottle of red wine is going down like water, I have drunken’ myself to a sober state of mind.
I think this could be the perfect place to lunge out of the window falling down 4 stories onto sharp railings but the thought of the annoying pain makes me feel like a coward for thinking it in the first place.
Bexs sleeps unaware, peaceful has her long blonde hair is over her face.
Her dark smudged mascara eyes are firmly shut.
I leave the bedroom and go into the kitchen to find an empty bottle of vodka.
Still no recollection of last night or last week.
I answer my phone in a panic as it’s like a horrible alarm.
It’s my wife Hollie. She’s Crying in a complete state.
“Please sort yourself out. I had no idea it was going to get this bad” she say’s
“What, what hey what’s up?” I ask
“I been trying to call you for day’s and It was going to answer phone all the time, Where are you?”
I reply, “I have no idea? I don’t know where I am or how I got here”
I hear her beg and plead for me to stop what I’m doing to myself.
It was only a couple of weeks ago we returned from Bangkok and decided to divorce and separate aboard flight 132 bound for London Heathrow.
Are attempt at trying to live in paradise on the island of Kohl samui had gone tits up, Partly my own fault due to my drinking but that’s a whole another other story.
“Listen if you sort it out maybe we can sort are marriage out” she say’s?
I hear a moan from a man that with-in the very bed I use to once lay.
I didn’t believe a word that came from her mouth.
I don’t trust anyone and I don’t trust myself so I hang up the phone and take another swig from the bottle.
Maybe this is it? Maybe this is the last time I’ll ever drink again?
I dare to make a promise to a god, as the thought of making a promise to something bigger than myself is too much to bear. I Myself I am in control I know what I’m doing? I’m just messed up right now?
But how the fucks have I ended up in a place over looking my father’s house I ask?
A Few Hours before I was in a flat upon the main drag of Brighton with people I did not know but recognised from TV? One guy kept asking how I was and in reply I called him bud…Where is rob my Greek looking friend I thought?
His dark eyes and hair to match his brow was a perfect match to be with he kind of understood me upon this haze of madness.
We met a few weeks before in a dark alley- way. He asked if I was knocking his bird? To which I had no idea to of what he was talking about. That day lasted at least three until I was in bed for another 2. I recall firing air rifles upon Luke Pritchard pent house apartment. Rob asked me again only this time with a rifle in his hand.
All these flash backs that make no sense.
I look out again at my fathers place and see bex is starting to awake.
Maybe this is the time for me to go and leave. I look at the wine in the bottle and place it on top of the oven and leave the apartment discreetly with coat in arm.
To this day I don’t why that became my last drink all I know is that I never looked back.