Stunned

The impact of my face on the door had left a distinct dent in the wood. I was looking at it, unbelieving, waiting for the warm rush of blood down my face, when I realised something: I couldn't feel anything.

After a moment, I discovered that it wasn't numbness: it was simply a complete absence of pain.

The door was proof of the impact - a plain, battered fact. But my head should be throbbing, maybe even bleeding. Was it shock? Delayed reaction?

From below, I heard the man saying, "please, Mr Mackie - Alan - there's no need for this. I don't mean you any ill will, and believe me - Miss Wilson and I would be in terrible trouble, were anyone to discover that we have brought you here.

"Do you remember nothing of your brief stay with us? Of myself? No, I see that you do not. But please understand that we have as much to lose as you, if your presence is discovered. Charging around the corridors like a dazed bull seems to me the ideal way to be captured."

"What... who... wha?" I managed to reply. I could tell I was impressing him with my incisive intelligence. But to be fair, I had just run full tilt into a solid wooden door.

I managed to sit properly on the stairs, intending to push myself into a standing position. There didn't seem to be an immediate threat.

"Ah yes, if you remember nothing, then I clearly have the advantage on you. I am Mr Smith, and it's no exaggeration to say that I really am delighted to make your acquaintance once again."

His formal speech patterns should have made him ridiculous, but instead they gave him an air of correctness and precision; there was a measured, considered quality to the way he spoke: it was both reassuring and a little overawing.

"Can I, could I... bathroom?" I asked, gesturing at my face. I wanted to assess the damage.

"Indeed, indeed. Probably best that you see that for yourself," he said in a voice that made me fear for what I would see. "Follow me."

He led the way to a small, brightly-lit washroom. As I cautiously approached the mirror, I was dreading the moment I'd see my face. When I did catch sight of my reflection, I flinched at what I saw.

My face was completely unmarked. Completely.

And then it dawned on me that neither Mr Smith nor Kate had asked if I'd been hurt.



Story begins here.