Unknown (work in progress, chapter 1)

Chapter 1

I sat cradling my head between my hands, the noises and images making my mind race, the wind and rain outside my bedroom window doing nothing to subdue my mood. No, today my thoughts had already escaped me, grotesque scenes and foul inhuman noises reverberated through my skull. I closed my eyes and tried to focus, simple things, baby steps, like what day is it, where am I and what the hell did I do last night? The last of these I knew was too complex for this time of morning, but with most alcoholics its one of the first things you think of when you wake up, and one of the last you get answers to, if you get answers at all.
It was Thursday, welfare day and as usual that meant the bottle shops and every pub on the way into the city would be packed with seasoned alcoholics, at least until four when an unspoken rule makes the alcoholics vacate to make way for the so called "social drinkers." I needed a drink badly, but my pride prevented me from drinking with the alcoholics and my displeasure with humanity made it unbearable to drink with the others. After years of drinking I had it all figured out, if I went to the bottle shop between four and six I would look like I just knocked of work, none of these outgoing wankers on their way to the club to interrupt me, and you look more socially acceptable than all the alcoholic veterans lining up at opening time. Not that I don't need a drink as soon as I get up, I had just perfected the art of sleeping past noon.
The small digital clock in the corner of the room read quarter to three, those tiny red numbers where the only thing illuminating the room, as I had decided to block the windows out with newspaper about a year ago to stop the morning glare. I rented a room in a dilapidated house just outside of the city, well maybe rented was the wrong term as I can't remember the last time I actually paid rent here. My little piece of crap, the walls where peeling paint , thousands of little flakes lay on my mattress conveniently located on the floor, as we had needed my bed frame for firewood. The ceiling was like coffee stained paper, years of smoking in the house had turned every white surface that colour and everything had the musky odder of ash. Besides my bed and clock my room had two more things in it, a small dressing table in one corner and a duffel bag in the other, so neatly packed even though I had lived her for about 4 years now.
In truth I was hiding, more from myself than the outside world, I couldn't really remember why anymore, I know it had something to do with the images in my head, and the more sober I was the worse they got, but I couldn't remember why. I had spent a few years looking for those answers only for them to get worse, so I stopped and started drinking. Three thirty, time was moving too quickly and I wasn't getting any closer to getting up, I wondered for a moment if I had gone back to sleep, had I really just been sitting there trying to figure out when and where I am for forty five minutes. That was an uncomfortable though, so I pulled myself up and set of looking for a clean towel. The smell of stale liquor hung heavily on me and it was only then I realised I hadn't showered in days.
There was five of us, well most of the time, usually more who stayed in this two bedroom house. Most of the windows were broken, lizards, mice and all sorts of animals also called this place home. The kitchen was filled with fruit flies, maggots and spiders, our own personal ecosystem between the piles of dirty dishes that was always someone else's problem. Clothes, bottles and cigarettes were strewn about everywhere, most of which we had no idea where they came from nor did we really care. I had always found it interesting when I looked in the fridge that we never had anything to eat but could always find money for alcohol and drugs.
The shower was cold, no real surprise there Simon and Kat had spent the morning on acid, developing an obsession with being clean and trying whatever they can to draw out their high. However the sudden drop in temperatures had given me a moment of clarity and reprieve from the mornings horror show screenings. The shower was small encased in a dull green with a tall roof that was always mouldy, opposite the shower was a broken mirror that I was rediscovering myself in . I probably hadn't looked in a mirror in weeks, almost a month's worth of stubble that hadn't quiet formed a beard yet, red eyes with purple circles underneath from days of broken sleep and serious drinking. My face was pulled taught and my dark blue eyes looked almost black, I couldn't tell if I had lost or gained weight all I knew was I looked terrible, so much so I was tempted to cover the mirror, hide my shame so I couldn't see it and continue to pretend others couldn't either.
It must be getting close to four...