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in too deep, the other said. You’ll never be able to get back.
    The scene changed again, but this time the young boy was alone. He was surrounded by evergreen trees that formed a canopy above his head and obstructed the sun. There was a light mist shrouding the forest in mystery, and as the elusive boy slipped silently between the trunks , there was a whisper. Go back, it said. Go back, they are coming for you .
     
     
     
    The first thing that Sean felt as his consciousness was slowly dragged back from the realm of oblivion was a strange sense of disappointment that he couldn’t place. Everything w as still dark, but there was a blinking orange light in the corner of this black room. ‘ My eyes are closed ,’ he realised with some surprise. After a long struggle, he managed to crack one eye open an d now a smal l stream of that same blinding light filtered into his awareness. It reminded him of too-early mornings spent listening to the radio alarm clock blaring loudly yet not having the energy to reach over and switch it off. Maybe this was what was happening now. The only difference being that he couldn’t move.
    A fter a lot of effort, he managed to peel open both eyes. His vision wavered, blurred and then gradually began to clear into a stark white ceiling . He wanted to let out a sigh of relief, but he couldn’t figure out how to breathe. Worrying. A s his awareness continued to return, so did memories and with them a painful bolt of realisat ion. T his was evidentially not any normal school morning, and nor was it a weekend. There was a reason behind the temporary paralysis, the stark white ceiling. And dammit, he would prefer school over this any day.
    The horrible screeching of brakes rebounded inside his head that was threatening to burst and he could still see a flash of the car that had c ome careening around the corner . He tried to blink away the memory, tried to forget and focus on the present , but t he imaginary adrenaline still l ingered and festered at the mere thought . He shakily flexed one hand and tried to reach out in vain. His body should be damaged quite badly , but he could not feel anything . Not even pain. It struck him as odd. After a little while , Sean gave up tryi ng to move. H e closed his eyes again and waited for something to happen.
    Time passed uneventfully and gradually an understanding that there was an absence of the expected physical p ain started to mak e him wary. He had been hit by a car hadn’t he? S urely it was supposed to hurt ? Well, he preferred not to question and accepted the fact gratefully. He f ound he was able to mov e his limbs now . Digging his arms into the sur face he was lying on ( he was disconcerted to find that his elbows were numb) he grappled with his hands for something to hold onto and struggled into a sitting position.
    He blinked: twice. T he image did not fade.
    He had imagined that he would be lying in a hospital bed, all dressed in white like some crude replica of a fallen angel, and that he would wake up to find himself surrounded b y beeping machines on all sideS. So it came as a shock to him when he realised that he was sitting on the floor , the hospital bed right beside him and beeping machines connected up to whatever lay in the bed. Upon further inspection from his position on the floor, Sean caught sight of a mop of dark hair plaste red to a pillow. I ntrigued, he spent the next few minutes for cing himself onto shaky legs. But w hen he finally managed it, leaning heavily against the bed for support, he felt like the world had fallen out from underneath him.
    In the bed lay himself.
    It did not make any sense whatsoever. Sean struggled to stay standing as he choked on air and his legs wobbled precariously. It was him that was lying in the bed…well, his body anyway. He was staring into a mirror . It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible.
    But it didn’t matter anyway, because in the next moment he came to the odd realisation that