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Trapped.I dragged the floral covers off, onto the wooden floor, and managed to roll with it. I struggled to my feet, which felt numb on the hard, cold floor.

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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 once I was in a hospital. Quickly, I tried to sit up, but a sharp stabbing in my back forced me back to the taut linen. Against my will, I yelped at the pain, and a nurse was quick to my bedside with a calming hand on my brow. "I knew you would be awake soon". I attempted to speak, but I could force the words from behind those hideous foreign lips. ...read more.


When I was sure she was far enough from me, I left the bush, and returned up the pavement to the house I had so recently vacated. I knew it would hold some clues, I just need time to find them. The room was not as I remembered it. One of the two beige sofas was overturned, as if the dim-witted lady had looked for me under there. A set of shelves stood in the corner; I scanned every shelf, and eventually found what I was looking for. A wonderfully carved wooden box. For some reason I took the box back into the room that was made mine, I suppose I felt safer there. I sat on the bed and spread the contents of the box over the hideous bed spread. I rummaged through the collection of documents, many of which were faded by time, and looked at each of them, looking for clues. My attention was drawn to a very faded pink A4 sheet, at the top the crest of the county of Hampshire, and the words 'Certificate of Birth'. The certificate was filled in with a neat, yet decorative scrawl. The certificate was made out on the 17th of July 1937, for one "Margaret Baker". That must have been the women who's house I was currently trespassing. I looked around for another one, one that could explain a little about 'Michael'. ...read more.


Tears filled my eyes I gazed at the body on the, unaware that it, that I was being watched. That's when it hit me. It was him. All along I had assumed there was a third party involved, an insane individual, bent on swapping round the minds of two men. But, no man who has been through what I have could have slept so soundly. He did this too me. To us. The anger slowly built up inside me. The agitation and fear of the past days gave way to this new sensation of rage. I couldn't control the body; the prison in which I was enclosed seemed to move on its own accord, across the landing, down the stairs. I found myself in the kitchen. The knife lay, glinting, smiling softly at me. My hands slowly wrapped round the warm black handle. I struggled to lift the knife with my weakened arms. I crept silently with trepidation up the carpeted stairway. I nudged the door open. There I was, mouth hanging open, peaceful in ignorance. I rubbed my hand down my face, reminiscing of past times. I stepped back to look at myself for the final time. My body lay perfectly still, no longer breathing. The thin gash across the neck marked the end. I lifted up the cover, clambered onto the bed. My eyes closed, and I fell into a long peaceful sleep. Martin Sweet Trapped Coursework 26th October ...read more.

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