Read Cracks for Free Online Page A

follow them out of the storeroom and down a long, plain corridor with closed doors on both sides.
    Smells are assaulting me from every angle. Disinfectant, food, and even aftershave from the man, are all so strong I want to gag. And everything is too bright. I squint up and see small lights
buried into the ceiling.
    ‘Where am I?’ I say again and my small voice makes me sound about five years old.
    The men exchange glances and open a door at the end of the corridor.
    Inside is a plain white room which feels familiar. I look around, so confused and dizzy I can’t speak. The ground tilts sideways and I feel the impact of the ground rushing to meet me just
as everything shrinks to a tiny pinhole.
    More voices.
    ‘Do you think he can hear us?’
    ‘I don’t know. We should be cautious about what we say. Everything’s changed. There are no protocols for any of this so we have no way of knowing his level of awareness post
cracks.’
    ‘When can we continue?’
    ‘Shh, I think he’s . . .’
    I force my eyes open.
    This time I’m lying on top of a bed. The bearded man is standing over me and a woman in blue scrubs is facing away. She turns around. I gasp so hard it hurts my throat.
    ‘ Mum?’
    She stares back at me, frowning. Then I realise it’s not Mum at all. I feel like someone punched me in the guts. She looks a bit like Mum but is loads younger and more done up. I can smell
her perfume and even the sickly sweetness of her make-up.
    She’s wearing a stethoscope round her neck. She comes over and gently eases me back against the pillow. I smell toothpaste and coffee on her breath.
    ‘I’m just going to listen to your heart, Callum,’ she says. ‘You probably feel a little disorientated so try not to speak for a minute.’ Her voice is nothing like
Mum’s. She sounds completely different. I’m so confused I just stare hard into her face as she bends over me. I feel tears spill over my eyelids and one slips over my cheek and goes
hotly into my ear. But she doesn’t really look at me.
    ‘It’s Cal,’ I whisper. But no one is listening.
    The door swings open and the bald man from before strides in. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he comes and stands at the side of the bed. He exchanges a look with the nurse and she
leaves the room. Her thick-soled shoes make a shushy sound on the floor.
    ‘I want to know what’s going on,’ I say and try to swallow tears. ‘I don’t know where I am. I want to go home.’
    ‘Sit up, Callum,’ he says, ‘and we can talk properly.’
    ‘I told you already, it’s Cal! ’ I want to shout it but my voice doesn’t work properly still.
    ‘Sorry, I’ll try to remember,’ he says. His smile is tight as a drum.
    I sit up again and a sharp sweat smell wafts up. As Baldy comes closer, I catch a whiff of his milky cereal. Cheerios, I’m sure it’s Cheerios. Everything stinks here. And it’s
so bright. I groan and raise my hand to shield my eyes from the glaring lights overhead.
    He gestures to the beardy male nurse and the light dims. ‘Is that better?’ he says and I nod.
    He pulls a plastic chair from the side of the room and sits on it back to front. ‘I’m Dr Daniel Cavendish,’ he says. ‘You’re in a special research unit . . . a
hospital, I guess you could say. We call it the Facility.’
    Loony bin. Definitely.
    ‘Was it because of the cracks? Is that why I was brought here?’
    He glances at Beardy with a puzzled expression before his eyes flick back to me. He hesitates for a second before speaking again. ‘I’m not quite sure . . . um, how to . .
.’
    I have a very strong urge to punch this bloke. Why won’t he just tell me what’s going on? How long have I been in this place, anyway?
    ‘Well, why don’t you just tell me when I came here?’ I say as he continues to stare. ‘Is it still Thursday? It’s Thursday, right?’
    Cavendish swallows, visibly. ‘You’ve been here for rather longer than you might realise,’ he