The girl opened her eyes, and frowned. She was in a hospital – that much was clear. She lay on a bright blue bed, in a large rectangular ward.  Eight beds lined the sides of the white painted walls, facing each other.  Blue curtains hung in-between each of the beds, which could be pulled across, cutting you off from the rest of the ward. It was quiet, no normal rush of doctors and nurses scurrying from patient to patient. No one was around.

 The girl, still frowning, caught the eye of the only other person in the ward. The boy lay in the bed directly opposite her staring intently at her. His whole body was hidden beneath the covers of his bed with only his face peering over the top. He was no more than eight years old, she judged. He had dark brown hair and dull green eyes. She smiled at him. His eyes widened and he started to breathe faster. He looked frightened.

 She broke his gaze and looked around the room again. Something wasn’t right. Everything looked different: paler, more vague. Less real. She only noticed now that the boy, still staring at her, also looked different. She noticed how glassy and unfocused his eyes were, how waxy his skin looked. She tried to remember why she was in hospital but she couldn’t. She frowned again, searching for any recollection of anything in her life. She couldn’t think of anything. It was as though her life began just a few moments ago.

 She looked down on herself, her deep black hair sat lifeless. She began to panic. Why couldn’t she remember anything? Why did everything look so lifeless?

 “What’s happening?” she asked to no one in particular.

 “Your ill,” said a deep voice.

 She jumped and her head span round. A man sat in chair next to her bed. She hadn’t noticed him. He had sparkling blue eyes, blond hair and a square jaw. She didn’t recognize him.

 “What?” she asked.

 “Your ill,” he repeated.

 “Why?”

 “Why what?”

 “Why am I ill?”

 “You don’t remember?”

 “I don’t remember anything.” This didn’t shock him. He sat there and nodded.