2. Waking Up
His eyes lids fluttered and he breathed softly. By his sides, his hands clenched, wrapping around the wires that snaked from him. His chest moved. In the new darkness of awareness, his conscious swirled. As he breathed in chlorine and cleaning chemicals, his nose wrinkled. From somewhere there came a steady beep.
He knew where he was but why?
Like a carousel, he tried to spin through the corners of his memory. Vague images, like Picaso painting in water colours danced tauntingly. A fierce bulb blaring down on him and humans- he thought they were humans - with only their eyes showing behind masks.
In a fast move, he brought his hand down on the cover, slamming it down with as much energy as he could. It bounced of the mattress and landed on a new texture. Unable to open eyes sticky with sleep, he explored its surface. It was a notebook. Breathing in, he forced his eyelids open and looked down.
He had been right. A simple leather pad lay by his side. Looking around, he saw other patients in the ward but no one who could enlighten him. He would have to turn Sherlock Holmes. Picking it up, he flicked through the pages.
Every single one was covered in an elegant font.
One name kept reappearing.
Well he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.