Stolen Hearts (2012 Wattys Finalist)

Chapter 1 - Robert

*****  DISCLAIMER!!  *****

I really hate to start my story this way, but I want to make sure you're aware - this is my first story ever - and therefore it is not perfectly written.  For a new Wattpad author, it's pretty good, but there are mistakes in story structure, and my characters are sometimes over emotional.  What I mean is - they cry - a lot!  For readers who have read my other work, The Boy in the Woods, please be aware this is a lot darker, and not as well written.

Even though this story isn't as perfect as it can be, I'm not taking it down because a lot of people enjoy reading it.  I really hope you're one of those readers who are sucked into the mystery of Robert and Georgie's story, and if you are, I can't wait to hear from you!

If you're one of those readers who sees the flaws and wants to take the time to point them out, thank you, but you're probably not the first to give me that feedback.  Unfortunately, I'm extremely busy working on new writing projects and being a Wattpad ambassador.  I don't have time to fix this story.  If you're not enjoying it, I recommend my latest story, The Boy in the Woods.  It's another beautiful love story and much better written.

Thank you for your time.  And now, here is Chapter 1 of Stolen Hearts...   Enjoy!

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The first thing Robert was aware of was the feeling of trying to push his way up, like he had dived into a pool and was trying to swim back up to the surface.  It confused him because he wasn't swimming.  In fact, he couldn't seem to move his body at all; he couldn't even make his eyes open.  And he wasn't holding his breath, he was breathing just fine, but somehow he was fighting to get to the surface from somewhere dark and deep.  As his mind became more clear, he realized he was fighting to get to consciousness.  What on earth had happened to him? 

When he was fully present in his mind, he still couldn't move his body.  Maybe he'd been injured and taken to hospital, he thought.  But when he took stock of how he felt, he wasn't in pain and wherever he was, it was completely silent.  No machines beeping, or nurses and doctors talking.  He could feel bedcovers on top of him, his head was on a pillow, and he was still wearing clothes.  He must be in his bed in the flat, he thought, even though he had no memory of how he'd gotten there. 

His band had a show at a club close to his home.  When they were done, his mates went to the flat of some girls.  After they'd driven off in the van, he remembered he'd pulled out his mobile to check the time as he started walking home.  That was the last thing he remembered.  Now he was in bed, but he couldn't understand why he couldn't move his body.  It was as if he was paralyzed, like he'd suddenly become terribly ill.

He concentrated as hard as he could, trying to open his eyes.  His eyelids were heavy, but the more he tried to open them, the more control he seemed to have over them.  They fluttered a few times, and then they were open.  He saw a dimly lit ceiling.  But it wasn't his ceiling, he realized with apprehension.  It was too high, like the ceiling of an older building.  When he concentrated very hard, he was able to roll his head a little to the left.

There was a small table next to the bed he was in with a pitcher of water and a glass.  The wall of the room past the table was plain, with no decorations to let him know what kind of room it was.  He saw a doorway leading to another room, but that room was so dark, he couldn't make out anything that would give him any clues as to where he was.  It was so dark it must have still been night. 

He turned his head to the right.  There was another small table next to his bed with a small lamp that was illuminating the room.  Then his eyes traveled to the left of the table and he was surprised to see he wasn't alone.  A wing back chair was near the foot of the bed, and a young woman was curled up in it, sound asleep.  She had her feet tucked up on the chair, with her knees up to her chin.  She was wrapped in a quilt made up of pale blue and white squares.  Her face was turned towards the back of the chair and her dark brown hair obscured what part of her face he might have been able to see.  In fact, her hair was so distinctive, he was certain he didn't know her.  It was wavy and so thick and long, it covered a fair amount of the quilt.  Behind her, there was a wardrobe and a chest of drawers against the wall.  He was in someone's bedroom.  He was more confused than ever.  He had no idea where he could be and who this person was.