A Change of DirectionChapter 8"Where the hell was he?" his still sleep fogged mind demanded. Slowly, he fought his way to full wakefulness and tried t...take stock of his surroundings. Nothing was familiar. Nothing was as it had been when he had fallen asleep or as ithad been for the last four years of his life. Only his windowthat overlooked Mum's garden was where it belonged, buteverything else was. . . . wrong.His basketball poster, his model planes and cars, his sportsmemorabilia - every. As we approached the kitchen I saw the clock on the stove. It was 10 minutes to ten. ‘Right on time,’ I thought. She stopped in her tracks causing me to bump into her. It was pitch black I had not anticipated the stop. It was not really pitch black, we were still within range of the faint light coming from the clock on the stove. And I had anticipated the stop but I was playing my roll. I made the bump count. “Cotton?, that’s your name isn’t it?” she whispered as she turned toward me. Unlike. More

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