WHO AM i?

My fingers are numb with cold-and yet I see the sun is shining outside. It looks warm, but the breeze whips right through me, so I stay huddled in my blanket, simply regarding the cold sun from within my chilly room.

I remember the sun being warm-a longtime ago it seems. Now the memory seems a long way off-I wonder will I ever find the warmth again?

I used to have brothers I think, but time and circumstances take their toll on everyone in the end. I haven't seen them in what feels like years. They're busy. I used to be busy too, but I'm stuck here in the cold with a hole in my shoulder that's now infected-I can tell it is because it is the only part of me that is hot. That and the fact that it hurts.

How long have I been here? What I wouldn't give for a hot drink- or a mug of Soup - anything to fight the chill that is slowly creeping through my bones.

Is my memory fading? How long have I been here? Where am I anyway? It seems I have been in this room forever. A room-just a square-ish box with a large window that looks out onto a white-washed wall. It is a French window, and it opens, but outside it is just white walls all round, and the blue sky above.

But it is so so cold! Cold! The mattress that serves as my bed, sofa and table is soft and comfy, but dirty and has only one blanket and no sheets.

No one comes when I call. My door... I have a door to my room but it never opens. Sometimes I wake up and find bread and water beside me on the floor, but the door remains tightly shut, and I can't open it.

I wrap my blanket more closely around me and I go back outside. I stand in the cold fresh air and look back at the glass of my french window. For the first time for maybe ever I see a faint reflection of myself. I don't recognize me. At all.

The hair is short, sticking out in all directions. I look like a pale, ghostly figure without much visible colour in my reflection. Eyes seem melancholy, but I can't see any colour. My reflection is too indistinct. I am wearing what looks like loose-fitting pyjamas in a grey that may once have been white.

I thought I must be old, being cold and little or no memory, but I dont look old at all. Mid twenties at the most.

Why can't I remember?

If I'm not old or sick-just injured, then why am I locked in this room? This empty boring room? Why cant I remember anything clearly? I remember brothers, but only as though from a distant dream. Could I have been drugged?

I think about the bread and water. Is there something in that? If I wait and pretend to be sleeping, I might see the person who brings it in to me. Find out who it is, follow them out perhaps. How did I get this wound on my shoulder? If the person who did it is still around, would they do it again?

I would sooner die than wait forever in this cold room. If only I could remember my own name.

I have a plan of action at least. I hope I don't get hurt again, but rather that than wait in here and die of cold.

Or boredom.