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Trapped The rampant stench of death, yes, that's it, that's my earliest memory. The pungent odour of decay numbing my already haggard senses. The room couldn't of been too big. I remember banging my head on a wall, and stubbing a toe on the opposite one. I remember struggling to my feet, and stumbling into the light. I wandered for ages along the side of a road, watching pairs of lights approach and skittishly dash away. Then there is blackness. As strange as that event was, the strangest thing that day was me. I felt. My body felt wrong. Those hands were not my hands; those legs were not my legs. My whole body ached, it felt like when you've sat in the same position for a too long, but amplified a hundred times. I was woken up by a blinding light in my face. The aroma of sterilisation exposed at...

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