Our senses tell us where we are. In a way, they can tell us who we are. How we see, taste and smell. How things feel. Cold isn't cold to everyone. Pain is agony to some and an ache to others. Our senses open up the world to us.

Without them, we are lost. Helpless. Alone.

"Wh... What?"

His eyes were open but, for a moment, he wasn't sure if they were still closed. The darkness was absolute. A complete absence of... everything.

At first, he felt as if his senses had died, or if the air had vanished, apart from that within his lungs. Was this what a sensory deprivation tank might feel like? Suspended in water that quickly became nothing? It was disorienting. He was floating in the vastness of space and was waiting for the vacuum to consume him. But...

He realised he could feel something beneath him and wondered if it had always been there. It was hard. Cold. Metal.

The floor, for gravity insisted it was such, brought him back to reason. He was not floating and his senses, though they'd fled for a moment, were returning. He was laying down. The flooring, being uncomfortable, gave emotional comfort if not physical. It was something to touch. He pushed himself up to sitting from his prone position. His head throbbed from sudden vertigo as the world righted itself and his up and down settled into their correct places, the darkness making them unsure if correct was actually correct.

Looking around was pointless, but he did so anyway. Perhaps there'd be a light or a glow. A difference to the darkness that would indicate the world still existed around him. Grey, or at least less black, against the black. There was none. Bending down, close enough for his nose to be in contact with the floor, he hoped to see a change in the night. A glint of the metal. The colour trying to push through the nothing to celebrate its existence. It was pointless.

Perhaps he was blind?

His hearing still worked, because he could hear his breathing. He tapped his fingertip against the floor, and was rewarded by the sound of its impact, though it felt odd. He ran his left index finger over the end of his right, then over each finger in turn. He always kept his fingernails, along with nasal and brow hair, trimmed. He was fastidious about his personal hygiene, so the fact his finger nails were now a good quarter of an inch longer than they should be was...

Concerning.

Frightening?

No. He wasn't afraid, not really. Confused, yes. The light touch of trepidation stroked his brow, but its touch was just warm. He had yet to feel its heat slip into his body and wrap around his nerves, setting them afire.

"Hello?"

It was an obvious thing to say. He spoke the word rather than shouted. The darkness was imposing and defied him to raise his voice, and his voice was hoarse from a dry throat that he hadn't noticed until he'd tried to speak.

There was no answer. One wasn't particularly expected, but hope stood tall within him. He did his best to force saliva into his mouth and swirled it around, using it to moisturise his lips with his tongue, and tried again.

"Hello!"

It was still far from a shout, but was, at least, more assertive. But, still, there was no reply.

Fine. Exploration then.

Slowly, he stood. As he moved, he listened out for any other sounds, keeping his own to a minimum – something that seemed easier than it should have been thanks to those sounds seemingly being afraid to articulate themselves fully.

"Shit!"

His head hit something as hard as the floor and at a height that prevented him from standing fully upright.

"Sshhh!"

It was a hissed sound and, rather than being an escape of steam or, worse, a snake, definitely made by a person. He couldn't tell which direction it came from, but that didn't matter. It was a voice. He wasn't alone.

"Hello? Who's there? Where am I?"

There was another question that occurred to him, but not one he couldn't really ask of anyone yet.

"Who am I?"

His mind seemed blank, feeling as if there was a void where knowledge of self and, really, anything else should be. He could feel the emptiness inside of him, desperate to be filled. Or refilled. Why couldn't he remember anything?

"Someone answer me, for fuck's sake."

Nobody did.

Fine. Fuck 'em.

Returning to his knees while nursing his throbbing head, he reached out to feel for the limits of whatever space he was in. He didn't have to reach far to discover just how small it was. A boundary of vertical metal bars surrounded him, joining the floor to the too low ceiling and giving perhaps five feet of space in each direction.

A cage.

A CAGE?

"Where the fuck am I?"

"Shut up, or..."

A different voice. Lighter. More feminine. Cut off from whatever it was going to say by the loud sound of locks being unlocked and a large, seemingly stiff lever being pushed followed by the tired hinges of a heavy door opening.

Where was it? Which direction?

Before he could think enough to call out to whomever had entered whatever room he was in...

Smaller locks and a lighter door. A scuffle.

"No! No! It wasn't my fault. Please! It was him! Someone over there! Please! I didn't..." A cry of pain following something – or someone – being struck. "No! Please let me go. Pl..." Another punch and another cry, this time with crying.

The smaller door was locked, something – someone - was dragged away, the sound receding, and the larger door was pulled closed. It took effort and grated as it moved over the floor. Did a hinge needed adjusting? Keys turned in locks.

Silence.

A hushed sobbing, so quiet it could only be heard if you closed your eyes and slightly tilted your head, came from somewhere in the darkness. He sat still, not daring to move, for to move would be to risk making a sound. To make sound brought them.

And took you.

He felt like sobbing too. He felt robbed of his senses and identity. Of his reality. He didn't, however, cry. With only the movement of his teeth chewing his lower lip, he was still. His breathing was soft and shallow and through his nose. After a few minutes, he began to open and close his eyes in a fairly evenly timed rhythm, trying to see if he could identify any change in his surroundings. The fact there was none didn't stop him. It was something. Otherwise, all he could do was wait.

His lack of a memory should, he felt, have concerned him more. He not only couldn't remember where he was or how he found himself to be there, he couldn't remember his name. His age. His ethnicity, hair or eye colour. What he had for breakfast that morning or if he preferred tea to coffee. Facts large and small about himself were as absent as the light. It was a worry, but he wasn't overly frantic about it.

Was that normal?

Did people lose their memory and simply analyse the fact, or did they panic? Identity gave meaning to oneself. An insight into one's purpose, even if that purpose was purely to sit in front of a television, watching reruns of daytime property, chat and cookery shows, whilst skimming through Facebook and eating takeout burgers. Identity told you, though in a way that was little more than a whisper in your ear you could only hear if you closed your eyes, held your breath and the world followed suit, who you were in every way.

It was more than just a passport or driving license. It was the essence of the person. The parts even they were not entirely aware of. His felt as if it had been wiped clean like an office whiteboard being prepared for the start of a meeting.

He stopped the closing and opening of his eyes and allowed them to take whichever state they liked. Open seemed to be preferred, with the occasional blink to break up the monotony of staring at nothing. He raised his hand, though it couldn't be seen, and scratched his nose. He sniffed the air. Licked his lips. Little things to make his mind work at exploring the smaller pieces of himself. Reflex and taste and the ability to perform simple tasks. To know simple things. Nose. Scratch. Lips. Expanding on this, he noted the different parts of his body had names he could recall easily. His arms were attached to his shoulders. His hands had fingers and fingertips and fingernails.

His mind was far from blank. It was chock full of information about the human body and the wider world.

But, where he was concerned, though he was not concerned, there was nothing.

He felt as if he were viewing himself from a few feet away. Not floating apart, travelling astrally, but more in the manner of an observer. A bird watcher seeing a crow land and start to peck the ground and wondering how long it would be until it flew away again. How long would this self-ignorance last? Shouldn't it, he, be creeping back in? In fact, had he ever known?

No, that was ridiculous. At the potential age he was, and he didn't think he was anything close to an adolescent or child, he must have lived a life full of names and facts. Relationships, perhaps. Children? A partner? He had existed and, with existence, came experience.

Had he always faced issues with such cold assessment? Was he not fazed about anything, instead taking the time to contemplate problems to find a solution, rather than spinning around, hoping he'd chance upon a solution if he waved his hands, metaphorically, wildly enough?

He was pleased he was calm. Panic wouldn't alleviate his situation. It wouldn't cause him to suddenly remember who he was and what he was doing. It wouldn't free him from his confines or reveal his jailer. Hence, it was fruitless.

He accepted the darkness within as an extension of that without. If he waited, something would happen. Light would be shed either physically or mentally.

The temptation to sob was gone. He didn't know what had happened earlier, although he surmised someone had been taken away, potentially because of his own outburst. He was sorry for that. When he had the chance, he would say as much to the relevant person.

Eventually, he must have fallen asleep, because he was woken by a key in the lock to his own cage.

How do you think you'd react in a similar situation?

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new book, and are looking forward to seeing what happens next! If you have any comments, I'd love to hear them, and if you have the time to vote, that would be wonderful!