Hopscotch

Hopscotch

Each patient laid asleep breathing in and out at the Royal Preston hospital. Leo laid there feeling each one suck the air from the room. He examined the same pattern which had spread its tongue across the ceiling. Leo liked numbers. The way they looked on the page. The way each one followed the next. As though they were queuing up for something big. Expecting something great to happen. Just like the monitors that beep. Every two seconds without failure. Like that. You could create an orchestra with these sounds and be sure that each one will turn up on time. Everything was arranged just as he liked it. The clock was set to exactly 12.50. The machine was positioned just to the right. Not too close to his head so it blocked his vision but not too far away in case. (‘In case what Leo?’)

I swallowed a gulp of that black oil and entered further and further inside my head. Suddenly the earth was moving up and down. 2, 4, 6, 8. My steps buzzed in time with my movements. Back and forth I went down the same path which me and my Dad drew up together. The street which stretched on for miles in front of my house was completely empty. 2, 4, 6, 8.

10.

(‘Leo, please continue’)

A black suit stepped out onto the pavement. He came towards me. Wouldn’t stop coming closer and closer. My feet became stuck to the, I don’t know, I couldn’t see what exactly. It just felt so empty. Anyway, that’s when he told me.

(‘Why don’t you tell me?’)

Time of death: 1.00 am. Kicked the bucket didn’t he?

‘So that’s what happened ok?’ He said ‘Now just give me the fucking pills so I can go’.

Leo and Coz had developed an understanding. If Leo didn’t lose his patience, he could leave when he pleased. It was a bad day. Leo sat on the same raw green sofa looking out of the window. Dashes of rain painted the window a shiny grey. Lights spluttered in and out of the darkness. He shuddered at the thought of what was beyond it. In the distance he could see the faint glint of music breathing out of his record company. Things had been going well this past week. He had sat at his desk with the regular black cup of coffee watching reels after reels of voices spinning from the headset. Each one individually striking he found himself reaching for the pen before they had wound to the end. A round of applause signalled in my head after each performance. I mean I practically kissed their feet until I could see my reflection. I could tell that people were getting agitated around me. Furious spikes digging into my flesh because of their hollow brains. But mine was practically reeling out words. A snap of my joints, and of the key into the ignition and I was back at the hospital. Cold panels pressed to warm skin, a pork pie drizzled in gravy, another perfect evening. Then the fear caressed my mind. I just felt so lethargic. Like everything was caught in a heavy breeze. But I had to resist. I couldn’t fall into the deadly claws of sleep. I shot of coffee. My eyes were pouncing.