Читать книгу Stand By Me - S.D. Robertson - Страница 7

Pain. That was the last thing he remembered. Excruciating, relentless, all-encompassing pain. The kind that focuses your mind absolutely, driving out all other thoughts as it pierces through your defences with shuddering ease.

The past, the future. Neither existed at that moment. There was only the present, rolling in ultra-slow motion.

No air, no up or down. A rag doll on a spin cycle: his tears invisible; his cries unheard.

That pain, dwarfing every other feeling. Had it been there a moment or forever?

He just wanted it to end. And finally, after rising to a blinding crescendo of agony, it did.

Blissful nothingness swooped down from the heavens above and engulfed him.

His return to consciousness was gradual and unexpected. As he became aware of himself again, it was as a detached series of thoughts and memories floating in the darkness. The echo of his torment remained in the background: a low hum, gone but not forgotten.

It was this way for some time. Then, hidden within that low hum, he began to hear the faint murmur of something else.

Was that someone whispering?

He had to strain to hear it, so quiet was the sound. But the harder he concentrated – the more he strove to tune in – the louder it grew, until eventually he identified a voice, androgynous in tone.

It took longer still to comprehend the actual words, delivered in a sing-song manner that was neither quite human nor robotic. At first he heard what appeared to be gibberish. Another language perhaps, but not one he recognised. And yet as he focused his mind on the sound, piece by piece, word by word, he gradually began to understand.

It was one sentence, repeated on loop: ‘Follow the light to its source and find yourself.’

Light? What light? There was only darkness here.

Wasn’t there?

He looked all around. Saw nothing.

And then the briefest flicker of white in the far distance.

It was barely anything – and yet it was something.

Something that wasn’t pain.

A purpose.