Turn the TV off!!

What time is it? Nearly five? Shit. Something woke me... a noise? No, more¦ more just a feeling. Maybe another one of those falling dreams? Bad dreams. I'm used to those. Like those dreams of being blind, helpless, all my nerves burning¦ being in complete darkness¦ in the orphanage. When I was a baby, before my solid memories began. Took me a long time to work that out¦ was just a darkness in my mind before that, dogged me for years, then I worked it out¦ it was always vague, distant, unreachable¦ out of the corner of my eye¦ then I remembered. Shit, I feel like that now. Something's wrong¦ what? Just a feeling¦ something has changed¦
Can I go back to sleep? No, I fucking can't. Need to find out what's wrong¦
The TV's on downstairs. That's it. Fucking hell, one of them bloody kids has left it on again! Bastards, they don't know how much electricity costs¦ they just live here and eat here for free and don't worry about a damn thing. Well one day they'll find out that life ain't so easy¦ I was in the fucking navy at their age, making myself worthwhile¦ well one day they'll be grateful for everything I do for them, how I have to clean up all their damn mess and turn off everything they leave on¦ yeah, maybe when I'm dead they'll realise¦ and all the bloody thanks I get! They never even talk to me, just run to their bloody mother¦
Okay, okay. Get up. Turn the TV off. I'll fucking let them know about it tomorrow, give them a piece of my mind. I'm not gonna let this go¦ damn, need the toilet now as well¦ and work tomorrow! Always fucking work, always fucking looking after the kids, always the fucking wife with her whining¦ never any sleep! No, sleep's too much to ask for, isn't it? Never allowed any proper damn rest¦ except when I'm dead, I guess! Yeah, then maybe they'll be sorry¦
It's in the front room. TV's on in the front room¦ and so is the light! I'll be wiping their fucking arses next, the useless bastards¦
It's so damn dark¦ and cold! Never fucking mind, back to bed in a minute, just got to go in here and turn-
The TV off, and the light, because Matthew left them on¦ ah, he left them on because he's dead. He's kind of dead, just sitting on the sofa with his eyes still open¦ I still need to turn the TV off, though. Electricity. Then I guess that I have to ring 999¦ tell them that there's a dead body in my house... the body of my son¦ why isn't he breathing? Should I shut his eyes? Turn them off, like every other fucking thing¦ check his pulse? I don't want to touch him¦ what if he's cold? It would be worse if he's still warm, though, wouldn't it? I guess I have to touch him¦ I have to¦ shake him, demand that he wakes up so that I can tell him off for leaving the TV on¦ wake up! Wake up, you useless bastard! You don't deserve to be dead! I'm the only one who is allowed to be in pain! I raised you! You have no right to be dead! I¦
Have to wake Denise up and tell her¦ I know¦ and then the kids¦ phone 999 then wake-up Denise then the kids¦ turn the TV off¦
But not just yet¦ got to let this sink in¦ wait to wake up¦

My father woke me up 7.30, that morning. It was a Thursday, my day off, but of course I had just woken up, and so wasn't that sure of anything. He said "I'm sorry to disturb you, William, but Matthew died last night, and, though his facial expression remained stony and his voice didn't falter, I did of course assume that he was joking. I did, in fact, believe that it was April 1st, all of a sudden, and that this was just another one of his twisted April Fool's Day jokes¦ until I came out of my room and saw my other brother, David, crying as he entered the bathroom, and knew instantly that it was no joke. David never cried. And I never did either, until a week later when I saw the coffin containing Matthew being carried past me on the way to the incinerator¦ anyway. I saw my dad cry that day as well.