CAN'T IMAGINE

CHAPTER 1 - "APPARENTLY I'M SHAWN"

It was the water lapping against his toes that woke him. He didn't open his eyes at first, just enjoyed the cool wetness, the sound of the waves, the warmth on this skin. He loved the beach, and summer, and the ocean. Not swimming in it so much, because you never knew what was in there, he preferred a good pool. He frowned, an image of a pool in his mind, and then a few other, different pools, but he couldn't remember where they were or how he knew them. His brain seemed to be jammed full with big white bubbles that hid things from him, things like where he was right now, and, he realised with a sense of horror, who he was. His name, what he looked like, anything about himself – it all seemed elusive, as if it were just out of reach. His heart was beating hard with fear as he slowly opened his eyes. They were crusty, with salt he realised, and he was suddenly aware of a raging thirst and licked his dry, salty lips. The sun blinded him, and he lifted an arm to block the light and groaned at the protests of his muscles. He was sore, actually he was sore all over. What the fuck had happened to him?

"You're awake?" a female voice full of relief reached his ears but he couldn't see anything so he didn't know who spoke. He turned his head slowly to face the direction it came from and saw a girl kneeling down beside him. She wore torn shorts and had a piece of fabric tied around her upper arm. The light was still interfering, and he couldn't see her face, just the long dark braid that fell over her shoulder. "Shawn?"

Shawn. Was that his name? It didn't sound familiar but then nothing did, so maybe it was his name. He looked at the girl as she came into focus. She was beautiful, with big brown eyes and soft pink lips. He gazed at her for a while, mesmerised. A bruise discoloured one cheek and he frowned, raising his arm, that now felt like lead, to touch it. She flinched away.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

"You're hurt," he said, nodding toward her arm.

"It's fine, just a scratch," she said dismissively. "But you are too. Your leg."

He moved his right leg, which seemed to be uninjured, but winced when he tried his left, which sent pain shooting up into his groin. He swore under his breath, struggling to rise.

"Can you help me sit up?" he asked. "So I can see what I've done to my leg?"

"It was bleeding, I bandaged it," the girl said calmly.

"Oh," Shawn said, collapsing back onto the sand. "Thanks."

"You haven't asked where we are?" she said. Her voice was cold, but it could have been his imagination. I haven't asked who I am, or who you are either, he thought.

"Where are we?" he asked dutifully.

She shrugged. "I don't know actually, I think we came down somewhere in the British Virgin Islands. This island looks small, but I think there is a house on the other side that we can walk to once your leg is better."

"Came down?" he rubbed his forehead, trying to understand what she was saying.

She frowned. "The plane, we were in a plane from Mexico City to Cuba."

He didn't know how he knew, but it didn't sound right. "Then how did we end up here, aren't the British Virgin Islands way on the other side of South America or something? I mean, they're not on the way from Mexico to Cuba?"

She looked at him strangely. "Don't you remember what happened?"

Time to fess up. "I don't remember anything at all," he said calmly. "I don't know who I am or where I am or how I got here."

Her face paled and her nicely shaped eyebrows shot up under her bangs. "You don't know who you are?"

"No, well apparently I'm Shawn, but I only know because you called me that."