Look Behind You

by Sibel Hodge

everywhere. My back, my wrists, my legs. Even my hair hurts. The worst of it is in my head. Hot, white shards of pain stabbing my skull. The effort of opening my eyes sends waves of

Open. Nothingness still smothers me. I can’t see a thing. Where am I? Am I dead? Slowly, my senses return. Cold, rough hardness below me, against my back. The musty smell of damp earth. The sound of . . . I strain to listen, but all I hear is the

whistling through my nostrils. And something else now. Drip. Drip. Drip. I can feel and hear, so I can’t be dead. But what’s happened to me? Have I been in an accident? That’s it. An accident. I’m in hospital.

happened once to someone I knew. She was in the middle of an appendectomy and woke up. Just like that! She couldn’t feel a thing and couldn’t move, but she could see everything the doctors were doing. She

with cotton wool, my voice distorted and muffled. So why can’t I see? Why is it so dark? Was it a car accident? A bomb blast? A terrorist attack? I inhale a shallow breath. It doesn’t smell like a hospital.