She woke with a start. It felt like she leapt up, but in reality, it must just have been a twitch. The sensation of the water reaching up to claim her was still behind her eyes, ringing through her head like a metal ball in an empty box.
This time, she was in a bed. Everything was soft and blurry, greys and blues, clearer than before but still incoherent smears. She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but it didn't seem to do anything. She lifted her hands to her face, and felt a momentary resistance: she had lines running into her arms, and they rattled as she moved. The tape pulled at her skin.
'Oh, you're awake! That's great news. Just relax.'
It was the same voice.
'Why can't I see?' she asked.
Her tongue was thick and heavy. Talking was an effort, mental as well as physical.
'Your eyes are going to take a little while to adjust, I'm afraid. You're doing really well, though. It's a horrible experience, I know. Just stay calm. Rest.'
'I had a dream. I was in a crash.'
The voice was silent for a moment, then replied. 'I'm sorry to hear that. You're still very weak. You need to rest.'
She blinked away tears.
'I can't remember...'
She stopped. She hadn't realised it before, but now it hit her. Her lack of memory was like a missing tooth: there was a well of absence in her mind, a void where there should be... what? A history. A person.
'What's my name?'
'Oh, it's all gone, hasn't it? Don't worry, it'll come back. Your brain is undamaged. Your name is Mia. Mia Halliwell.'
The name felt like a marble on a smooth table: it didn't fit into a groove, click into place. It just rolled around with no purchase.
'Are you sure?' she asked.
'Absolutely.'
Mia. She didn't feel like an Mia, but it was as good as anything else. She rubbed her eyes, but everything was still blurry.
'Who are you?'
'My name's Pilgrim.'
Mia frowned.
'Yes, it's an odd name,' Pilgrim said. 'Would you like to call me something else?'
'No. It's fine. Are you a doctor?'
'Amongst other things, yes. Now, it's time to sleep again. I can tell you're tired. You'll feel better, I promise.'
The truth was that she was sleepy. The tiredness hadn't really released her: it had just let her surface, bobbing above the water, and now it was pulling her back, despite everything.
The thought of water made her shiver.
'I don't want to dream of another car crash,' she said, in a voice which made her sound like a child.
'You won't. I'll give you something for the dreams. Now, back to sleep, Mia. Good night.'
'Good night, Pilgrim.'