Bodyguard [narry]

Chapter 18

[unedited - sorry it's a short chapter]

[Harry]

Where am I? What is this?

I blink repeatedly, trying to see. The vague shapes around me slowly fall into a place. I'm not at home.
I'm-

Where am I?

I'm confused. I squint painfully into what seems now to be rising daylight. What the hell is this place? I look around. I'm trying to take it in, make sense of it all.

I'm in a house. A house that isn't my own. But there is more wrong than just that. I breath for a moment, heavily. I will not panic. I won't.

I look down at me.

Oh. Not my clothes.

They actually don't seem to really be clothes at all, just strips of black cloth that barely fit the name shirt and trousers. They don't fit me. It's like a sort of bandage.

Anyway, I look outside through the window more confused than ever. I stand up. Too quickly because my mind is blurry again. I try to find my balance but it's difficult. I close my eyes trying to concentrate myself.

When I'm finally able to stand straight, I open the window. I expected some air to blow on my face but nothing. No fresh air. No air at all.

There is no wind, no sounds, no life. I bend over the window but I sway dangerously for a moment. My head is overweighted with grogginess and I'm still shivering. The outside is green, grass everywhere and a road where cars are parked, covered in thick layers of dirt but no sign of any human being.

Is this place familiarly?

Is it a dream? The last dream before death?

I'm alone. As much as a listen, I can't hear anything else than my own breathing. Why am I alone?

There is others houses. The sun is coming up. So... If it's the morning and that I'm in a village people should be coming out their houses, getting in there cars, driving for work or at least driving their kids to school. And if not, then walking on the street, delivering the mail, taking breakfast outside, dogs should running everywhere. The street should be full, the village should be in action.

But no. There is nothing. No one. No people.

Nothing is like my own street back home. It's not really different. In fact, this doesn't look like an American street, no, it looks like-

It almost look like... Ireland?

Why would I be in Ireland? I don't know anyone from there. And even if, why would my last dream of death be there? I would understand if it would have be in Cheshire, it's my hometown but here? I don't understand.

I step back, this time without loosing balance, and frown. What is it about this house? Why does it seem so familiar? I look around me and without knowing why but a room is drawing me.

So I go.

There are no lights on inside. Oh, and no sound again. I just stand there for a moment. I feel hideously so weak, unwell and tired as if I didn't have slept for two days. I could lay down on this doorstep and sleep forever and never wake up. But I enter the room instead.
But I don't know what to do next.

The sun is slowly shining and brightening the room. But same as before, the temperature is neural. As if nothing is hotter, colder, warmer or anything. But according to the landscape it must be some kind of summer which is weird because snow was just starting stay on the floor back in London. I don't understand.