It's like this: a light shining somewhere behind my head, but no matter where I turn, I can't find it.
The mask is stifling, but I can't take it off. My fingers pry at the edges of it, feeling around for a weakness.
"Stop that," someone says. "It stays on."
I don't care. Maybe I understand what they're saying, maybe I don't. But I'm not going to listen. I try to slip my fingers under the mask again. But then there are hands around my wrists, suddenly, angry and violent.
"I don't believe it," the man hisses. "You can pretend all you want to the others, but I know you're faking it. Amnesia? So convenient."
I say nothing still. I'm not sure why I can't grasp anything he says. They're words, but they float around me instead of entering my ears, my consciousness. I'm not even sure he's rea
