Dark Waters

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Annabelle could feel the blackness all around her. She opened her eyes, blinked and blinked. Panic rising with every second that the darkness failed to clear. Something was very, very wrong.

For half a second she hoped she might be home in her flat with the shutters closed. It’s the middle of the night; you’re still mostly asleep. The thought made sense. But as she tried to force this idea into reality an image entered her head: a map with a picture of mountains and lakes on its cover. The other memories quickly followed. The gate. The road. The little girl. The crash.

You’ve been blinded, that’s why you can’t see! Your eyes are gone!

The thoughts sent adrenaline surging through her body. She tried to sit up and the first wave of screaming agony came on. Searing up from her right leg.

“Help me! Someone help me!” she screamed, trying desperately to sink back away from the pain. But it stayed remorselessly with her until the tears were running down her face.

For a long time there was only the pain. Gradually it faded until Annabelle realised that although her head ached like the worst migraine, there was actually no pain from her eyes. She stayed very still and tried blinking again. Still no pain. Reaching up with both hands she felt the balls of her eyes through their lids. They seemed normal. Slowly she opened her eyes and peered into impenetrable blackness.

It was the darkest hour of the night – that was why she couldn’t see. She was trapped in the car and her leg had been horribly broken in the crash. It was obvious. If she was in the car her phone must be nearby. She replayed the moment: stretching for her iphone. How could she have been so stupid? She took a deep breath and slowly moved her left arm. Feeling for the steering wheel, for any familiar object. But her hand grasped nothing but cold air. ■