The Word Cloud

This is 1st draft, but there's a bit in this chapter where MC is witnessing an attack on a woman through his eyes, wondering if it works. Feel free to comment on chapter as a whole.

Chapter 7

After making a spectacle of myself I hobbled out of the town and found a bench. Sitting there I looked back at my life. There must have been something that I’d done in my past to deserve this punishment. Yeah I’d been bit of a Jack the lad when I was a teenager, but I’d never hurt anyone physically, I’d never stolen, so why me? There were rapists, murderers, and thieves. Why hadn’t they been dammed like me? Surely if there was a God he wouldn’t have allowed this to happen.

I should be at work or at home with my family, not living like this. My shoulder was stinging, and my head itching. I unwound the dressing from my head. There was still a bump, and I could feel the roughness of the wound and stitches. I was so mentally exhausted that I didn’t care whether Dexter’s ghost appeared. What was the worst he could do? Put me out of my misery?

A car pulled up beside me, and Lucy shouted through the open window, ‘get in the car Dexter, NOW.’ I looked at her; the scowl on her face was almost as scary as seeing a ghost.
‘Piss off, I’m not who you think I am.’ The car door opened and Lucy got out.
‘Get in the car now.’ She seethed.

The way Lucy stared at me with her wide eyes, and stone face sent a chill through me. I got in the car and sat in silence until we pulled onto the drive.
‘Get in,’ Lucy snapped. Jesus, she was livid. I felt like a disobedient child. She opened the door and shoved me inside. ‘Now go and get in bed.’ She hissed. Am I like… ten again?

Clutching my shoulder I stomped up the stairs. Dropping on the bed I held my head in my hands. I was too drained to cry, in fact I felt as though I was on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. Lucy’s feet pounded the steps. She was still fuming. It was nice that she cared so much; it was just a shame that she was caring for the wrong person.
‘Drink this,’ she barked. I rolled over and she thrust a mug of herbal shit under my nose. I had no desire to drink it, but downed it just so she didn’t fly completely off the handle.

When I woke I felt groggy, like I’d been on the drink all night. My mouth was dry, so I went to get some water. I fell to the floor with a crash. I tried to move my legs, but something was wrong. I opened my eyes. I was tied up. That’s right, my arms and legs had been bound together.

I sat up, and manoeuvred onto my knees, resting my elbows on the bed. The door opened, Lucy switched on the light, and came into the room.
‘What the fuck’s going on?’ I asked, still dazed. Had she spiked my drink?
‘Shut up, and get back in bed.’
‘You better fuckin untie me, NOW.’ I yelled. Lucy’s eyes were aflame with rage. She darted towards me and slapped me across the face. I fell backwards, stunned. I shuffled back to my knees, and hopped to my feet. WHACK. Another blow knocked me off balance and I fell on the bed.
‘Lucy, what are you doing? Are you fucking mental?’
‘How dare you try and leave me.’ ‘Look you don’t know me. You think you do but you don’t.’
‘Just shut up Dexter, just shut your fuckin mouth,’ Lucy screamed in my face, pulling my hair.

The pain was excruciating. Lucy opened up the wound on my head. I could feel the warmth of the blood as it trickled down the nape of my neck. What had happened to the kind, beautiful Lucy that was here before? She had turned into a lunatic; why? ‘Please Lucy. I’m not Dexter. Something bizarre has happened. My name is Josh, Josh Atkins. Somehow my soul found its way into Dexter’s body.’ ‘You expect me to believe that?’ ‘Look I know it’s hard, but that’s what has happened. I’m not Dexter, I told you in the hospital, and I’m telling you now, I… AM… NOT… DEXTER.’ ‘Bullshit. You think I’m gonna fall for that?’ ‘Let me go you fuckin psycho.’

Lucy slammed the bedroom door as she left, locked it, and stamped down the stairs. Could things get any worse? Not only was I in someone else’s body, I was shacked up with a fuckin nut job. I had to get out of there. I looked around the room for something to cut the ties. The best I could find was the frame of the bed. I ran the duct tape back and forth over the wooden frame like I had an invisible saw in my hand. It was useless. I went to the single set of drawers, opening them as quietly as I could. There was nothing, all completely empty. Getting down on my hands and knees I looked under the bed. There was red paint scrawled on the floorboards but nothing I could use to set myself free.

I thought I could just jump out of the window. As I walked over to it Dexter’s Ghost climbed through the glass. I took a step back and fell on the bed. Sitting up quickly I tried to get away. ‘Stop fuckin haunting me. Take it, take your body. I’d rather be dead,’ I snapped. ‘Ssshh,’ Dexter put a finger to his lips. What has happened is irreversible. Just listen to me.’ Dexter looked to the door. There were footsteps. I in turn looked at the door. I don’t know what was worse, being stuck in a room with a ghost, or being stuck in a room with Lucy. I turned back to Dexter. He jumped out of the closed window. He was scared. He was scared of Lucy, and I couldn’t blame him after what I’d just witnessed. She was majorly fucked in the head.

The lock clicked open. Lucy entered. Her hair matched her expression, wild. ‘If you carry on shouting I’ll gag you, so I suggest you calm down.’ ‘Me calm down?’ ‘Yes sweetie, you.’ Lucy smiled at me seductively. This woman was mental, talk about bi-polar. ‘Look, I’m not Dexter. Somehow I took on his body. Don’t ask me how, but that’s what happened. Until you came to the hospital I’d never seen you in my life.’ ‘You have amnesia Dexter, you just need a little reminder of who you are, and me being the kind person that I am, can help you with that.’ ‘You’re not listening. Get it into your thick head. My name is Josh Atkins.’ Lucy walked over to me and perched on the edge of the bed. ‘Just relax sweetie, I’ll make you remember.’ Lucy clamped her hand to my forearm, and bit her bottom lip. My entire body locked into spasm.

I found myself looking through someone else’s eyes. I could tell it was a woman by her slender fingers and painted nails. She was smoking a cigarette, and her heeled shoes clip clopped on the pavement. She stopped and looked over her shoulder; nothing there, just street lights illuminating the night. She continued to walk, turning into an unlit alley. WHACK. I…I mean she dropped like a felled tree. I could feel her pain as her face met the concrete. She started to struggle, squirming from the clutches of her attacker. Shuffling back on her bum she looked up. It was Dexter. She was too scared to scream. I could feel her heart thundering as if it were my own. Dexter pounced on her, and punched her in the face. Everything went blurry. Dexter flipped her on her stomach. Grit grazed her face. Dexter had his knees in the small of her back. Her head snapped up. She was being strangled by something, wire, or some kind of chord. Her hands flailed uselessly. She knew she was going to die. She pissed herself as her life slipped away. Her windpipe had been squeezed so tight there was no way to breath, then she gave up, and her body went limp.

She knew she was dead as she was pulled to her feet. Dexter grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away. Something tugged at her shoulder. She turned. It was her mother. She tried to fight Dexter away; she wanted to go with her mother. There were several barks, followed by growling. Her childhood Jack Russell was biting Dexter’s ankle. Dexter pulled her down the alley by her hair. Her spirit dragged on the floor. She caught a glimpse of her grandfather as he rushed to help her. Dexter released his grip, and punched her grandfather in the face. He flew back and vanished into the darkness. Dexter was crying. Her mother screamed as Dexter yanked her away from her. Even though the woman had never died before, she knew her loved ones had come to claim her. Dexter punched the mother with the back of his hand. The woman cried out, ‘you bastard, let me go with my family.’ But Dexter ignored her pleas and dragged her out of the alley.

My heart was thumping as I came to. Sweat was pouring off my head, and my back felt cold and damp. Lucy no longer had hold of my arm, and blood was dripping from her chewed lip. She looked at me with a smile on her face.‘Do you remember now?’ She said through her smirk. ‘Of course I don’t. I told you I’m not Dexter, and I’m no killer. You’re both sick in the head. Let me go.’ I flailed my arms and legs, and got to my feet. Lucy stepped away from the bed. ‘Calm down sweetie. I’m just showing you who you are.’ ‘Fuck you,’ I yelled, trying to lunge at her. The floorboards rushed towards me then WHACK. My bound hands partially broke my fall. I lay helpless on the floor.

What the fuck was going on? Dexter was a killer. Lucy was psychotic, an accomplice. Maybe she was the dominant one. Maybe he killed for her. Dexter wouldn’t allow the woman’s soul to cross over to, well, wherever it is you go when you die, but why? Maybe I did die at the hospital. Maybe this is Hell. I just wanted to be away from this crazy woman. I was her prisoner. My body jerked, and tears came in abundance.

‘Oh come on Dex. There, there,’ Lucy said as though she were consoling a toddler. She stroked my hair. The thought of her touching me was repulsive, but I was broken, mentally shattered. Dexter’s ghost and Lucy had driven me to insanity. I couldn’t see any way that I could pull myself back together. To have swapped bodies with another man was one thing, but to take on the body of a killer. There seemed no end to my relentless nightmare. My body started to shake. Was it shutting down? Please just let me die here. Why couldn’t I have just died like any normal person?

Lucy hauled my head and shoulders onto her lap, and rocked me like a baby. I was just as helpless as one. This life I was living was alien to me. I wanted my family back. I shouldn’t be on the receiving end of a mad woman’s sympathy. Izzy needs me. Danni needs me. I thought of them, and prayed that my memories would keep me sane.

Hi Tono,

Overall good, you have a good storyline here, and lots of action and "hooks" (mystery) in this scene to give it a lively pace. OK, on to the constructive criticism...

You are asking for specific feedback on the scene through the woman's eyes. I have to say I am not sure it quite works...

Obviously you have shifted from 1st person to 3rd, and this is fine. I think you introduce the scene well with:
"I could tell it was a woman by her slender fingers and painted nails".

However, you also then seem to shift into "telling" (just informing) rather than "showing", e.g.
"She was being strangled by something, wire, or some kind of chord. "
"She tried to fight Dexter away; she wanted to go with her mother. "
"Even though the woman had never died before, she knew her loved ones had come to claim her. "

I think what might help is for you to re-write this whole scene in 1st person, and then just change "I" back to "she". This might help you bring it more to life. Currently it just reads like Josh watching the whole thing on film, not experiencing it.

At the start of this scene, you capture well the confusion between being Josh and being Lucy, using:
"I could feel her pain as her face met the concrete. "
Can you keep this up? For example, rather than "It was Dexter," try "Looking through her eyes, I recognised Dexter", and for "Dexter flipped her on her stomach. Grit grazed her face..." try "Dexter flipped her onto her stomach and I felt the grit graze my face." Make sense?

In other bits....
1) As a psychologist I am attuned to psychiatric words! "Psycho" is not a real term, but means either psychopath / psychotic (you can look these up to see what you want). Saying that, I do see that “psycho” might be a term your character would use, as it is common slang. However, you might want to take out “bi-polar”, which is the same as manic depression, and I don't think properly captures what you are referring to in Lucy's behaviour. For anyone familiar with bi-polar this will jarr. Maybe just stick with "This woman was mental, talk about bi-polar. "

2) There were some unnecessary repetitions / over-stating that slowed it down a bit. I think you could make it more streamlined by cutting these out. Show don’t tell, and trust your reader to work it out, e.g.

“The thought of her touching me was repulsive, but I was broken, mentally shattered. Dexter’s ghost and Lucy had driven me to insanity. I couldn’t see any way that I could pull myself back together. To have swapped bodies with another man was one thing, but to take on the body of a killer...”

Lucy hauled my head and shoulders onto her lap, and rocked me like a baby. I was just as helpless as one. This life I was living was alien to me. I wanted my family back. I shouldn’t be on the receiving end of a mad woman’s sympathy. Izzy needs me. Danni needs me. I thought of them, and prayed that my memories would keep me sane.

All the above just suggestions but hope it helps a bit. Good luck – keep working on it, you have a good storyline.

I would agree with what Philppa says, great ideas here but the writing needs a little fine tuning.

What the fuck was going on? Dexter was a killer. Lucy was psychotic, an accomplice. Maybe she was the dominant one. Maybe he killed for her. Dexter wouldn’t allow the woman’s soul to cross over to, well, wherever it is you go when you die, but why? Maybe I did die at the hospital. Maybe this is Hell. I just wanted to be away from this crazy woman. I was her prisoner. My body jerked, and tears came in abundance.

You ask a lot of questions, which really are what the reader should be thinking, rather than you needing to tell them this is what they should be thinking. It's a bit like a safety line, perhaps you're writing this in because you're worried that your reader has not 'got' what you're trying to show them, but I think you have - you might need to work on the scenes a little but the reader gets the significance, you don't need to keep telling them what you've done.

What the fuck was is going on? (Do you think perhaps the present tense would actually work better for this story?) Dexter was a killer - Lucy is psychotic, an accomplice. Maybe she was the dominant one. Christ Maybe he killed for her? Dexter wouldn’t allow the woman’s soul to cross over to, well, wherever it is you go when you die, but why? Maybe I did I die at the hospital. Maybe this is am I in Hell? I just wanted to be away from this crazy woman. I was her prisoner. My body jerksed, and tears came in abundance. shit, I'm crying.

Anyway - just my thoughts on the matter, the idea is a gripping one!

thanks guys, very helpful