Awakenings, the first chapter of the Adrenochrome short novel

A strong pain, that’s all.
You’ve got something heavy on your face, as you do have a face. And a body. Probably.
But everything is hidden behind this pain you feel. There, beyond the blackness.
Then all you seem to understand writhes, twists and turns sickly over itself: you are the heavy thing on your face and that hardness you feel against it is the floor, or whatever it is you’ve got underneath you.
Slowly, very slowly, you come to know something else above the pain, beyond the blackness, and it’s a horrible stench: the smell of decay, mixed with a stinging memory of madness and synthetic oil.

I’m blind…
Everything is black and I can’t remember closing my eyes. For a short while I think of nothing and then, bit by bit, an idea of reality flows back into my head. It makes me want to scream, but all I can manage is a weak moan.
I know I am in a strange position, but it isn’t yet clear which way is up and which is down.
When I do get it, I realise I should perform some sort of movement with my shoulder to straighten me up.
I am not supposed to support all of my weight on my face.
But I still can’t muster the will to move the wreck pretending to be my body.

When memories flooded back into Liam they did it all at once, mercilessly.
His brain overflowed and he longed for the sweet unconsciousness of just a few seconds before.
He tried to open his eyes to push the darkness away and, when that failed, he cherished a new wave of panic. He was so scared of moving his body that he stiffened the muscles of his legs, breaking the delicate balance that had kept him face down on a rusting pile of scrap metal, his left check smashed against the asphalt.


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