Charlotte
Cold...
Pain...
Thirst...
...
I'm thirsty...
My eyes open to... an unfocussed fog... And droop closed again...
...
...
... and open once more...
The fog swirls... then clears. A blur of grey and brown and black resolves into detail...
And the detail means nothing...
Where am I?
Master?
I'm hurting...
Master?
Michael?
I want to speak, but my mouth is dry and puffy, lips gummy, sticking together... My jaws won't work... like some nightmare where I want to scream but the sound won't come out...
Sucking at my tongue and cheeks, to work up saliva, I try again to speak, but all that emerges is a whimper.
I'm so cold...
The fog clears some more and slowly it comes to me that I'm lying on my side on some hard surface. Pressed against it at shoulder and hip and cheek,
