George Keegan opened his eyes. His head hurt. His was dry and tasted strange. At first he had no mouth he was. He turned idea his head. It was 7 am. There was a d on the small table beside the bed. His clock. His bed. His bedroom. He was at home. His head continued to hurt. He closed his eyes. Then suddenly he opened them again. ok, he was in his flat, in his own bed, but he felt terrible. Why What had happened last night? George lay on his back, looking up. He tried to remember where he had been, or who he had been with. He thought hard but he had no idea. A party maybe? A night out with friends? He remembered going to work the day before, but that was a Slowly he began to realise that his hand felt wet. In fact, the bed felt wet. Not wet with water, but something thicker. He took his hand out from under the sheet and looked at it. "My God! he shouted. It was blood, thick dark blood and lots of it! George sat straight up and threw back the sheet. What had happened? He was still fully dressed dark blue trousers, pink shirt, socks and shoes but there was blood everywhere! George jumped out of bed and immediately started pulling his clothes off. As he did so, he checked his body. Where had the blood come from? Had he fallen? Or cut himself? He seemed OK-except for the headache.