Cracks by Caroline Green Read Free Book Online Page A

you were closest to regaining consciousness.’
    I suddenly remember Mum, or whoever she was, sliding across the floor in that weird way with blank eyes. What was it she said? ‘He can’t be waking up?’ and then something about
increasing the dosage? I don’t understand why they’d say that. They must have wanted me to wake up, surely?
    I stare at Cavendish until he blinks, twice in a row, and then I look away. It’s probably all got mixed up inside my head. It’s not like they’d have any reason for keeping me
in a coma. I can’t make sense of anything right now.
    ‘How did he die?’ I croak at last.
    ‘Who?’ says Cavendish.
    ‘The boy. The one whose memories I’m carrying in my head.’ Just saying those words makes me want to throw up or scratch myself all over. I feel like I’ve been invaded by
insects.
    ‘I’m not sure of the exact details,’ says Cavendish, ‘but it was a long time ago. I suspect it was an accident of some sort. He’s not important now,
anyway.’
    Not important?
    I want to go home.
    I have no home.
    I want to go home.
    ‘Can I go there?’
    Cavendish looks at the other guy again. ‘Where?’ he says.
    ‘The house on the hill. The house where I, where he, where they all live. I want to go there.’ I know I’m not making sense.
    Cavendish tips his head back a little, frowning. He clears his throat. ‘If you mean a place from your coma world, that would be a mistake, even if you could locate where it was in the real
world. Your mind has had to cope with a lot, Cal. Best just to start again and forget about the past.’
    ‘ If I could locate it!’ I almost laugh and then realise I can’t remember the address of the house on the hill any more. It’s gone. I swallow and squeeze the thin
blanket in both fists like I’m clinging on to the edge of the world.
    ‘Why a mistake?’ I say.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Why would it be a mistake to go there?’
    Cavendish runs his tongue over his dry lips and I catch a whiff of his breath again, sour now under the milky smell.
    ‘Uh . . . well, there’s a serious risk that it could result in some kind of cerebral overload. Either a stroke, or a major psychological trauma that could be just as dangerous.
Mixing the two realities – the world of your coma and the real world – is just not advisable. These are such unusual circumstances. Anything could go wrong.’
    I sink back onto the bed and cradle my head in my hands. I feel like my whole world has been picked up and shaken like one of those glass snowstorms.
    The silence seems to go on for ever.
    ‘What happens to me now?’ I say finally through a headful of snot. ‘Where will I go?’
    ‘As I said, we’ve never managed to trace any family, I’m afraid,’ says Cavendish. ‘But do try not to worry about the future at the moment. You’ll need a
period of recovery. We’ll have to monitor you to make sure there are no aftereffects of the coma.’ He gets up. ‘You should rest now. Try to get some more sleep.’
    He moves so quickly I don’t see what he’s doing until I feel a prick in my hand. ‘Just to help you relax,’ he says and I see he’s holding a syringe.
    I can feel myself falling, but before I do, a question bubbles out of me.
    ‘How did you know that Des was my stepdad?’ I start to say. ‘I didn’t tell you that . . .’ but the words just echo inside my own head.

 

    T ime passes but I don’t know how many days or nights because they all bleed into one. I can’t seem to stop sleeping. I don’t
dream, but every time I wake up, my new reality washes over me like cold water.
    ‘You’re nothing . . . nobody.’
    That’s what Des – or whoever he really was – said. Maybe he was right.
    Because it doesn’t seem like anyone here cared about me that much either, if they left me here to rot all that time. It feels like Des and Tina and even Pigface would be better than being
some sort of walking blank page. My insides hurt but I know it’s nothing