‘I don’t … I don’t …’

And then there is nothing.

I open my eyes. My head is thudding like I’ve been bludgeoned. There’s a beeping sound. I look around the room. It’s white and smells of disinfectant.

The sound is coming from a machine by the bed; it’s got a screen with little wavy lines on. Beep beep beep. The machine has wires attached to it, which in turn, are attached to my arm. I’m in hospital, I suddenly realize with a wave of panic. I try to sit up but my head swims and for a second I think I am going to throw up so I lie back down again.

Why is nobody here?

Where is Dad?

‘Hello?’ I call out lamely. My throat is dry and my voice little more than a whisper. ‘Is there anyone there?’

Nothing. No one. I can hear people clattering past outside in the corridor, but no one comes in.

I move my head gingerly again and see a button with a picture of a person on it. My right arm, the arm closest to a big red button with ‘call’ written on, is wrapped in a huge bandage and throbbing. Ow. I twist myself round to reach across to it with the other arm and a sharp pain shoots across my ribs which makes me cry out and fall back onto the bed. I take a deep breath, steel myself and roll over again. This time I manage to reach the button and press it. A red light comes on and there is a dull buuuuuuuuuurrrr sound.

I press another button next to it and the head of my bed moves upwards.

Better. I can see more now. The room is very bare. No furniture in the room bar a very plain-looking chair and a nightstand by the bed.

There is nothing on either the nightstand or the chair. Nothing at all. Where are my clothes?

Suddenly terrified, I try to sit up but the shooting pain makes me yelp and fall back onto the mattress. Tears spring to my eyes.

Why am I here?

I turn my head to look out the window but I can’t see anything except a grey sky.

There is a sudden noise and the door bursts open.

‘Good God, you’re awake!’ says a bosomy, friendly-looking nurse. She bustles over to my bed and presses another button, making the red light go out. ‘How’re you feeling?’

‘My head hurts,’ I rasp. ‘And I’m so thirsty. Can I have some water?’

She frowns. ‘I’m not sure. I’d better get someone in to have a look at you first. Let me call the doctor.’

She bustles off again, leaving the door open. I lie back on my pillows, exhausted.

‘Hello? Can you hear me?’