Unwound

By the time the bus had threaded its way through the roadworks that seem to be a permanent feature of the city, it was 6.30 when I reached the flat.

Playing with my phone on the way, I'd noticed a text from Jen, which said: SRY UR ILL. WRKIN L8. BACK 7.30. XOX. Who'd told her I'd gone home sick, I wondered. Whoever it had been, it was a good thing she wouldn't be back till later - otherwise I'd have had some explaining to do.

As I reached the top of the stairwell, a bone-deep weariness overcame me. My limbs felt heavy and weak, and my fingers fumbled as I struggled to put the key in the lock.

Once I'd opened the door and obeyed the insistent beep-beep-beep-beep of the alarm, I leaned back against the wall in the hallway and let myself slump. I felt both tired and too alert, and my mind was whirling, trying to make any kind of sense of what had happened to me.

I needed a bath.

After turning on the taps in the bathroom, I patted my suit pocket, and reassured myself that the memory stick was still there. I then went through to the kitchen and popped it into the drawer that was the designated home for my stuff ... or shit, according to Jen. As I struggled to close it again, I reflected that she might have a point.

Resisting a strong urge to down a bottle of beer in one, I drained a glass of water after letting the water run so cold that it made my fillings buzz. Until I could understand better what I was capable of, I wanted to keep as clear a head as possible.

Back in the bathroom, the bath was nearly run. I tested the temperature, discarded my shoes and clothes - jacket and all - in a pile on the floor, and turned off the taps.

After the rushing water, the silence seemed huge. The only sound was the drip from the tap, an almost hypnotically slow plip plip plip. I stepped in.

As I lay back in the water, I reflected that I could still feel its warmth, was still aware of the sensation of water flowing around and over me. I lifted my hand, and bit down on the fleshy part of my thumb as hard as I could: no pain, and when I looked, there was no sign of a bite mark. I tried again, biting so hard it felt like my teeth had gone through the flesh - with exactly the same result.

And yet, putting my hand under the dripping tap, I could feel the water drop perfectly well. Impervious to pain and injury, but still able to feel? It didn't make sense.

Looking at my body, I began to shiver uncontrollably. It looked exactly as it had done before, but there was something completely alien about the way it behaved now. I felt separated from my physical being, from this body that no longer seemed to belong to me.

When I thought about how I'd been transported instantly, I suddenly felt I couldn't trust this new part of myself. What if it happened now of its own accord?

Suddenly I felt exposed and vulnerable, lying in the bath - bizarrely, it felt like standing at the top of a very tall building.

I knew I had to find out more as quickly as possible.



Story begins here.