Writing without contest

I try to awaken but as my eyelids flicker, sight does not greet me. I am vaguely aware of a deep, on-going pain at the back of my head. I push past it as I attempt to see again, but nothing comes. The ground beneath me is cold and wet and I can smell the fog hanging around me. I listen for the familiar London sounds and am instantly greeted by taxis rushing past and beeping their horns, the tapping of suited women tottering on their heels and businessmen barking their orders down the phone.

I dig around in my jean pockets. My phone, wallet and keys are all gone but deep in my pocket I feel a small ball of paper. I unravel it blindly, feeling all of the crevasses to find it is only a receipt. I fumble around me for anything to help me know where I am, something cold and tinny presses against my finger tips as I reach forwards. I clasp hold of the sides and wrench myself up, every muscle inexplicably aching. I'm soon hit by the strong stench of warm, raw fish and rotting meat and feel increasingly queasy. As I propel myself away from what is now obviously a bin I realise I must be in the back alley of a restaurant. But how did I get here?

I walk with my hands outstretched feeling for anything that can aid me. Soon, I feel the familiar brickwork of the outside of a building, the tiny ridges pressing into my fingertips. I lean my palm against the wall to help me move forwards. I slowly follow the wall as it reaches a sharp corner, moving round with it. I can hear many sudden gasps and feel warm patches cover my back, arms and shoulders as voices merge to make one loud buzz in my ears. "Someone call an ambulance!" a deep voice calls. As I'm bustled along, not knowing where I'm going, I stumble over a soft bundle on the floor which lets out a yelp of pain as a gruff voice shouts "Watch it!".

A soft voice speaks daintily in my ear, I can only assume the voice of a young woman, "What happened to you?" she says. I don't reply, too confused by the day's events so far to utter a single word. The girl continues, "Sir, you're in Il Bordello pizzeria, an ambulance is on its way, I think you may have been attacked in the night. Your head and clothes are stained with blood." I eventually manage to utter "But we're nowhere near The Dog And Duck pub? That's where I was last night?" Everyone ignores my mutterings, assuming they are from a confused man who's been smashed rather hard round the head.

After a few minutes of bustling around me I begin to hear the faint trill of sirens and people slowly begin to filter away, back to their busy days. I can feel people brushing up against me and hear murmurs of wonder, but I can't answer their questions. I hear the door of the restaurant rub open and try to listen to the male speaking to the young lady who was helping me. Eventually, they bundle me into the back of the ambulance and explain that "Sir, you've got some bruising on many areas of your body and a significant amount of blood loss from the back of your head, we need you to tell us your name and everything you remember from last night." As she speaks to me I realise I don't even remember my own name and whisper "I don't remember anything, I just want to see again."