Читать книгу If Ever I Fall - S.D. Robertson - Страница 6

I come round in stages, struggling to shed the cocoon of my dreams. They seem so real, so urgent, until the tug of daylight on my eyelids takes charge and one world blends into another. As my knuckles rub this place into focus, the harsh reality of a moment ago fades, filed away into a dark drawer.

‘You’re awake.’

The man’s voice startles me. I move to sit up, only for a sharp pain to explode in my head, forcing me back down.

‘Easy now. You need to take things slowly, lad. Doctor’s orders.’

‘What happened?’ I whisper, wary not to bait the throbbing.

‘You’ve suffered a head trauma. I don’t know exactly how you did it. I wasn’t there, but it looks like you fell off a ladder. I found you unconscious in a pile of soil. That cushioned your fall, but your head wasn’t as lucky as the rest of your body …’

The voice continues, but I’ve stopped listening. My mind is on something more important. Something I’ve just realised. Something that makes my blood run cold.

I’ve no idea where I am.

The part of the room I can see from my horizontal position on the single bed is unfamiliar: mint green paint; a pine wardrobe and a matching bookcase busy with spine-creased paperbacks; varnished floorboards and a cream rug.

But that’s not what’s really worrying me. Neither is the fact I don’t recognise the voice muttering away in the background. It’s far worse than that.

‘I don’t know who I am,’ I say. My voice echoes in the room.

Then there is silence.