An excerpt from "AmnestyAR" (WIP)
Elliot finally slid over the tipping point from restless, crappy sleep into semi-aware, moaning awakeness. What the hell had happened last night? Apparently whatever it was hadn’t involved him taking his jeans off before going to bed. His eyes seemed to be stuck together with some kind of mucus and his mouth tasted like he imagined a pub bathroom floor would. Another good night? Possibly. Kicking his way out from under his duvet he swung his sweaty jean-clad legs over the edge of the bed. He was still wearing his shoes too - fantastic! Great to see that his mum’s predicted decline into a drink and drug addled mess as soon as he departed home for university was still on track. “Tuesday… Tuesday… Shit! Tuesday!” He tried to kick at least a percentage of his brain cells into action. Today was Tuesday and he had his final exam for his second year of his Business Law degree. As this realisation sank in his movements acquired a new urgency. Rubbing at his eyes to clear them of the nights grime Elliot blinked a quick combination and his EyeUp HUD came on. “Still only 0940 - I’ve got time!” He stood, swaying slightly as his abused body tried to remember how all the bits were supposed to work together, kicked off his shoes and danced his way out of his jeans. “First-up: shower!”
Standing naked in the shower Elliot span the water pressure tap with abandon, tipped back his head and waited for the life-giving, rejuvenating jets that were going to transform him back into the kinda person who passed exams… rather than licked pub toilet floors. Nothing. “What the hell?” He span the limescale encrusted tap back and forth then flipped the mixer switch up, then down, then up and down a few more times as if it didn’t only have two positions. Apparently there was no water. “Why today! What the hell.” Stepping out miserably he traipsed through his bedroom/livingroom/kitchen hybrid and tried the taps in the other sink: still no water. Scanning his eyes across the topography of his messy, bottle and pizza strewn flat he spied a three-quarters full bottle of Evian - that will have to do. He half remembered a joke about Princess Diana and a royal flush but his laugh was cut short when he realised how quiet it was. Since moving to Electric Avenue nearly two years ago he didn’t think he had heard it this quiet even at night, infact, especially at night. Realising time was slipping away and he did still have an exam to attend he returned to the bathroom and did the best he could with the remaining Evian.
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