Deadline: A Novel

This is an exerpt from my next novel, Deadline : CHAPTER ONE: Slipping Away   An anonymous conglomerate of 3ams in July. Awake, aware, no chance of even the faintest glimmer or flicker of respite. Sleep is elusive now, as it always has been for me. There begins a pain in my chest, which is probably just wind, but no less painful than anything serious. I eat too much, even when my hunger is non-existent, and it has inevitable consequences. I struggle to organise my life into meals; ergo it just descends into a cacophony of crisps and chocolate, washed down with a bottle of Coke or Lucozade, possibly even a can of Red Bull or Tennent’s. But this is it. 3am in July once more and there is nothing to be done. University is but a distant memory, with the economy in a perpetually shambolic state, or so they tell us. The invisible financial deities tell us that the system that they’ve helped engender and maintain isn’t working – well quelle fucking surprise . You tell yourself and those th...