The Forgetting by Hannah Beckerman EPUB & PDF

The Forgetting by Hannah Beckerman EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online

• Author: Hannah Beckerman
• Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction, Women’s Literary Fiction, Psychological Thrillers
• Publish Date: 1 April 2023
• Size: 3 MB
• Format: PDF / EPUB
• Status: Avail for Download
• Price: Free

ANNA
LONDON
When I open my eyes, nothing is familiar.
Light falls in parallel strips across the ceiling. Square
white tiles, puckered with small black holes, form neat grids.
A metal rail hangs above me, curved like the broad sweep of
an arm.

My eyes blink against the too-bright light. My head is
heavy, as if I have awoken from a leaden sleep.
Muffled sounds become louder in my ears, more distinct:
the clatter of metal, the ringing of a phone, the murmur of
voices.

I breathe, and my breath is hot against my face.
On the periphery of my vision, a plastic dome curves
above my nose. I breathe again, watch the transparent mask
mist over, feel the heat rebound against my skin.
‘Hello, my love. How are you feeling?’
A man’s face hovers over me, so close his features are
blurred at the edges.

I try to swallow, but there is no moisture in my mouth, the
muscles in my throat contracting without purpose: tensing,
tightening, a sensation of choking.
‘You’re okay. Just breathe normally.’ The man rests a
hand on my arm and it is hot, clammy, my skin flinching in
response.

‘Where am I?’ The words are like sandpaper in my throat.
‘You’re in hospital. I’m going to get someone to come and
look at you. I’ll be back in a minute.’ The man’s fretful tone is
at odds with the reassurance of his words.
As he leaves, the dial is turned up on my senses: the pale
blue curtain surrounding my bed; the beeping of a monitor
beside me; the rigidity at the back of my neck, aching and
stiff.

There is a swish of the cubicle curtain, a change in the
direction of air. A new face appears above mine: young,
female, wearing a blue nurse’s tunic with white piping around
the collar. Behind her, the man hovers, knitting his fingers, a
frown pinching the bridge of his nose.
‘Can you hear me, Anna?’ The nurse speaks loudly,
enunciating every syllable as though testing the shape of them
in her mouth.

I nod, not wanting the sandpaper to scratch the walls of
my throat again.
‘Anna, my name’s Fran, I’m one of the nurses here. Do
you know where you are?’
I shake my head. I am in a hospital, that much is clear. But
I do not know where, which one.
‘You’re in Charing Cross Hospital, in Hammersmith. Do
you remember what happened?’

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