Countless

I sighed deeply and wriggled deeper into my sofa taking another chug from the bottle of wine I’d just opened. I looked down at my gun on my coffee table and picked it up twisting it around in my fingers. I took the cloth in my hand and began to clean it carefully checking the safety was on before working around the trigger. Once I was done, I carefully put down the cloth and sat up with the gun in my hand. I examined it carefully before detaching the silencer and cleaning that too then reattaching it. I stood up pensively feeling the weight of the metal in my hand.

I slowly lifted the gun to aim at an empty can perched on the island in the kitchen end of the room. I tensed my muscles preparing for the shot before I pulled the trigger. The can flicked with the hit and was catapulted off the counter bouncing off the side wall with a clink. I rolled my eyes bored of the activity immediately- let’s make it more exciting.

After moving the distorted can back into position, this time balanced on top of an empty wine bottle, I wandered back across the living room. I took my time lining up the shot but didn’t take it. The whole thing just wasn’t interesting enough; after repeating the same action for hours… I needed a challenge.

I moved the coffee table against the back wall and began to pile books on top of one another until the height was just at my chest. I climbed onto the table and took off my socks so I had grip on the slippery wood before putting the palm of my free hand flat on the pile of books.
I pressed my hand down to straighten my arm keeping completely rigid causing my body to be lifted off the table, all of my weight in my hand. I slowly extended my legs into a straddle position moving either side of the books without touching them higher and higher until they were either side of my arm level with my elbows. I raised the gun and aimed at the can again but I still knew it was too easy for me.

I retracted my extended arm and tucked it behind my back the gun still gripped tightly in my fist. I swung my legs back round carefully keeping on going all the way round so that I ended up in a one handed hand-stand. I relinquished some of the pressure on my hand so that I could wiggle it round on the book so that I was facing the counter. I then lowered my legs again for balance, holding them in a straddle shape at right angles to my vertical torso.

Finally, I snapped my arm forward and shot the can, smiling happily when I saw it flip to the other side of the room.

I then twisted down so I could perch on the top of tower grabbing the wine bottle from the mantelpiece to take a glug.

‘Well, you definitely haven’t lost it completely, Kid.’

I heard a deep gruff voice from my door and my arm slung round to point the gun at my intruder but relaxed when I saw his identity. My uncle, Paul Higgins.

‘Gotta love hitting inanimate objects.’ I grumbled twisting the safety on and tucking it onto the mantelpiece.

‘Don’t take this the wrong way...’ He said scanning my little burrow, ‘But a pig sty looks better than this…’

‘You know saying ‘Don’t take this the wrong way’, doesn’t stop it being offensive...’ I scoffed. ‘How did you get in?’

‘You should learn to lock your door.’ He growled slamming it behind him and dropping on the sofa. ‘Especially in a neighbourhood like this...’

‘Who would want to rob a pig sty?’ I chuckled, glugging more wine.

‘You look like shit, Jam.’ He said looking up at me sadly.

‘Didn’t you hear?’ I slurred. ‘Shit’s the new black!’

‘I thought the doctor told you not to drink.’ He said eyes locked on the bottle in my hand.

‘I only had a little bit.’ I smirked taking another sip.

Without a word, he walked over to a box by the counter and tipped it upside down. I watched the bottles and cans fall out all empty from my hibernation for the last few of weeks since the dress fitting. He shook his head and ran his hands through his hair hopelessly throwing the box back into the corner.

‘That looks like a more than a little bit to me, Jam.’ He said chewing on his lip worriedly.

‘Whatever, it’s my life and I like it.’ I smirked.

‘You have a problem… I want to help you get through this…’ He said leaning against the back of the sofa.

‘Ha! That’s a joke…’ I laughed darkly.

Paul’s head shot up and he was immediately in front of me grabbing my knees and pulling me from the tower of the books to fall onto my ass on the floor.

‘What the fuck was that for?’ I shouted at him but he didn’t answer instead he grabbed my bottle of wine and throwing it across the room smashing it against the wall. ‘PAUL!’

He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder marching over to the bathroom to drop my squirming, screeching body into the bath before turning on the shower that poured freezing water over my head.

‘It’s time for tough love, Kid.’ Paul snapped at me. ‘You had your chance to fix yourself and you didn’t do it so now, I’m stepping in. And trust me, we’re done with the bullshit now. Pity party's over, Jamie! Yes, you got hit by a car. Yes, it's shit that you can't remember the last few years. It's horrible for you! We get it! but you doing this to yourself is making it pretty damn hard to sympathise! Now sort out your shit and pull yourself together because the Jamie I know is strong enough to survive this!’

I sat there in shock staring after him as he stormed out of the bathroom slamming the door behind him. I thought about disobeying him but then changed my mind remembering the look on his face. I stripped off all of my clothes and let the now warm water wash over my body. I scrubbed disgusting alcohol and sweat covered skin with soap before washing my hair, each second getting more and more sober.

Once I was done, I wrapped myself up in a towel and hung my wet clothes over the radiator. I then wandered over to the sink and brushed my teeth working hard to get the remaining taste of alcohol out of my mouth.

I walked back into the living and saw Paul throwing a full garbage bag into the hallway. I looked around my apartment and saw his work. He’d dismantled the tower of books putting them back on my bookcase, cleaned up the scattered cans and bottles, opened up all of the windows to get air and light into the room… it was complete polar opposite to how it’d been fifteen minutes ago.

‘Go and put some gym stuff on.’ He ordered, plumping up the cushions on the sofa.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I walked into my bedroom and pulled on a pair of cropped gym leggings, a sports bra, a baggy top and a pair of trainers quickly before bushing out my wet hair and squeezing the water out of it with a towel before knotting it on top of my head with a band.

Finally, I plucked up the courage to face my uncle. I walked out of my bedroom onto to see him in the kitchen pouring a fruity concoction into a beaker; he clicked the lid onto it sharply and shook it before handing it to me.

‘Don’t drink it too quickly.’

I did as he said, sipped at the smoothie enjoying the energy boost. I guess I hadn’t really had anything other than booze in a while. He filled two bottles of water and walked towards the front door.

‘Come one.’ Paul said blankly.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked standing my ground.

‘You’ll see.’ He stated, holding out his hands for my keys.

I sighed and handed him my house keys as I moved past him and into the sunlight.

Notes

Let me know what you think
xx