Mad Worlds
“John was burning. He heard a funny noise, a rasping – his own breathing. Something was on his face. He couldn’t move. Everything was swirling, then fading. In and out of dreams, he fancied he could hear Heather’s voice, feel her holding his hand. She floated among the white-coats. Now he was awake. Everything was blurred. Funny smell. He wriggled, uncomfortable and sweating. He was in a bed, lying on something smooth yet lumpy, like a horsehair mattress. A white-coated man was peering at him. “You’re awake.” He tried to speak, but couldn’t. He felt up around his mouth – he was wearing a mask of some kind. He moved it to one side and managed a hoarse whisper. “Where am I?” “You’re on Infirmary Ward, in Springwell Mental Hospital. That’s an oxygen mask.” The white-coated man put it back on his face. What was he doing here? Felt like he’d survived a good kicking. His chest ached and his throat was on fire. He wanted to raise himself, but his left hand felt shackled.
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