Chapter 1: SICK (cont'd 2)

finished / unfinished

Jesus heard the occasional noises of the afternoon and then nothing for a long time. When he next  opened his eyes evening had fallen and the room was in near total darkness with him wormed up like a host disease at its centre. He was covered in sweat and breathing low.  As his eyes adjusted to the blackness shapes and edges of things emerged into vague focus. Over, towards the only uncovered window, the wooden chair sat morosely in shadow and slanted night light.  From  the mattress on the floor Jesus stared out the window and up into the sky. Something about that made him feel immensely lonely and sad. He pushed the covers back and lay out flat like he was airing his souk. He wanted to rise, to go to the toilet, to light the room, but the thought of standing, putting all that weight on his legs, of using energy to move gave him the dreads. And so he lay just where he was for the moment, the internal static of his existence whispering away like insects in his ears.

That got him up. A sneezing fit which turned to retching and a panic as he caught his breath down his throat. When he had finished he was laying over on his side, head bowed off the  mattress, with snot and saliver draping from his nose and mouth. Jesus pulled the stringy discharge clear and slung it off his fingers onto the floor. He breathed heavy and cursed. Then he sucked cleared his throat of further mucous and getting himself up gobbed it into the woven wastepaper basket. On his feet his head spun. he steadied himself against the wall and pulled his trousers up a notch. His damage foot throbbed and felt frozen and burning at the same time. Holding his stomach in he stood in the dark, building himself up for his next movements.

There had been no electricity in the flat for almost a year now. After his mother had died no-one had paid the bills and so a series of letters were sent and not opened and then one afternoon the electricity went off and never came back on. In response Jesus had run a wire from the communal hallway* light downstairs up into the flat, fixed a switch to it and so was able to run a lamp, TV, charge his phone and boil water. He had to be careful using multiple appliances so as not to trip the switch.  He also didn't want a huge electricity bill going to the Housing Trust for a single hallway light. It would be for some reason like that that they would come sniffing around and not only find he was pilfering their electricity but also that his mother was dead  and that  he had been continuing on with her housing benefits claim and having the rent paid and living there illegally by not declaring it.  Jesus now turned his little line of electricity on and a tall standing lamp lit up the lower half of the room. In the corner, just a meter or so away from the edge of the mattress, the television went from blank to static to a grainy picture with sound. Jesus looked in the mirror. He dragged a hand down his sick face finishing with a loose grip of skin around the chin. God, he really was ill. His eyes were already baggy from the wet tears and his face was ashen yet oily, his pupils wide and frightening looking even with the light on. He looked at his bed and noticed fresh blood down at the bottom of the bare mattress. Fuck, my foot, he thought and he looked down at his foot. He saw that  blood. was seeping through his sock. It was not important. His sickness was his major worry and left no room for anything else. He ached around the room, pulling up pieces of clothing  and tossing them aside until he found a small battery powered torch. With the torch in his hand Jesus left the room and went down the hallway. After a moment the hallway lit up. 

When Jesus returned to his living room he was with two empty saucepans and a third full of water. Jesus put the two saucepans to the side of the bed and  emptied the third  into the kettle. From a little cabinet alongside the TV he took out two half pouches of old dried tobacco and a  little box of loose cigarette papers and put those beside the mattress too. Then he looked out at the sky and the dark and a sudden wave of panic hit him. He looked at himself in the mirror and he had to struggle not to cry and he had to try and do something. He needed to know the time. Then he remembered he had no phone and so he couldn't tell the time. He went to the window and as he went his body felt like it was dying with each step. Jesus looked through the window and over the old school, down the road, he could just make out the high-street. When he saw traffic he knew evening was not night but he needed to know how late it was. Then he remembered the TV text, the CEEfax and standing shivering, making noises of suffering he flicked jittering across to the text and there he saw it was just gone 8 and a little hope returned.

It was still early, Jesus thought. Dealers will be on until at least midnight and some even later. If I can borrow a phone, or 20 pence, I could get Bobby or Tee to come out. They know me well enough and I've never asked credit before. I will call them and say nothing and when they arrive I will let them see me sick and ask for credit then. If I tell them before there's a good chance they'll say no. No, I must phone first and only let them know when they arrive. Sure they'll fucking moan and curse and say it's not possible but they'll come around. I'll ask for three and then they can cut me down to even one and that will be good until tomorrow, allow me to find a fix until Monday. So Jesus for a moment had a plan and he once again waited near the window. He went through his immediate neighbours of  who he could ask to use the phone. Barely had he decided on old Polish Rosa from three doors down  than he suddenly remembered that not only was his phone missing but also his wallet where he kept his dealers numbers on paper. JJesus cried out in anguish. He hung his head in despair and liquid bubbled out his nose and then ran down and over his lip. The sweats went through him and he began his jittering again, trying to create a sensation he could follow to take his mind of the sickness. In a flash of haste he once again  thought of his wallet, that it must be somewhere in the room. Surely I couldn't have lost everything, he thought.  He looked around again, sitting down every few minutes, shivering, sniffing and groaning before searching over again. But it was hopeless. His bag nor jacket nor shoes where in the apartment. He cursed whatever event had happened to him and then got back up and looked in the mirror for the third and last time. And in that look, in that reflection, he saw a condemned man and he was scared. The bed was ready for him and the evening was drawing in and his fate was an horrendous one. The smell of sickness cut Jesus in two and he doubled up and retched and for the first time he was sick and it came out his nose and then spewing out his mouth . Jesus went to his knees and Jesus was sick. the TV let out a beep and the teletext changed page and the night was coming down. 

* so house is a maisonette with the downstairs flat empty. we need to explain somewhere how Jesus had got in on millenium night without any keys. The keys will be used later in stiory. 

Problem in the writing of 3rd person limited and 3rd person omnipresent. Maybe not discernible to the reader but I can feel the tension of  it as the writer. have a look at the omnipresent parts and have a go at writing them using mostly passive sentences so as Jesus (his body) remains the subject throughout.