I’m in a car.

The car is travelling at high speed.

The road we are travelling along is full of tight corners, sudden twists and unexpected roadblocks.

Fitting metaphors for the events that have led me to this point – sat in the backseat of a car that came out of nowhere, next to a man who knows about me than I do, with my hands bound together behind my back and a hood pulled over my head, blocking all sight of the route we are taking to…somewhere.

Who knows where?
The man sitting next to me.
The person driving the car.
The people who organised for this car to pick me and the other man up, precisely 10 seconds after I met him.

My shoulders ache, but not as much as my head, which feels as if it’s swirling with a vortex constructed from a thousand different questions, each one colliding with the next, until I don’t know which question I want answered more.

Actually, that’s a lie.

I do know which questions I want answered:

Who am I?
And what have I done?

Suddenly, the car comes to a stop…

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