Forming Images (Short Story)

I'm going to let you read the story before I explain it. You'll understand why at the end.

Pain and confusion.
What the hell had just happened?
She realised her eyes were closed, so she opened them. It made no difference - she still couldn't see anything.
The pain was still there. Where in God's name was it coming from?
Slowly she moved her hands up and down her body. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. So what was causing that dull ache in her head?
Her head.
Oh God, her head. Why was it hurting so much?
She felt around her face, then her hair. Somewhere round the back, there was something sticky.
Hesitantly she moved the hand in front of her face and licked it.
No. Not blood. More bitter. Almost... oily?
Dimly she because aware that she could hear something. A sort of... humming. She recalled having heard it before, but couldn't place where from.
Recall? Why couldn't she recall?
The pain was still there. Why wouldn't it go away? What had caused it?
Slowly an image crept into her mind. She was running. Running down a dark alley.
Why would she be doing that?
Suddenly she was thrown to the left. A loud, screeching sound. Almost like... tires?
A car? Was she in a car?
More screeching. Then silence. What was going on?
Then, blindingly, there was light. Lost of it. She raised her hand to shield her eyes.
She blinked. And there he was, looking down at her.
Rebecca. Was that her name?
The face smiled. She did too. It was an infectious sort of smile.
'Hi there. My name's Daniel. I'm gonna get you out of here, ok?'
Arms reached down and cradled her. She didn't mind. Daniel seemed to know what he was doing.
She looked around as he lifted her out of the boot.
The car she'd been in had been blocked off by a police car. The officer who'd presumably been driving it was forcing a man over the car's bonnet.
Recognising the man as her somewhat violent ex, it all started to come together.
Daniel carried her past the officer, his face turning towards him as he did.
'I'm gonna take her to the hospital. Keys in the ignition?'
The officer looked up from cuffing the ex.
'Yeah. Don't scratch the paint!'
Daniel smiled. 'I won't. Thanks Dave, I owe you.'
He looked back at Rebecca.
'Come on. Let's get you checked out... and we'll see if we can get them to wash that oil out of your hair while we're at it.'
She smiled.
Everything was going to be all right.

From a later post in the forum this was taken from: 'The whole thing [is] kinda meant to be from the point of view of someone (Rebecca) with a concussion. Not sure if that came across or not. But yeah, Trev's* pretty much pointed out the things I didn't explicitly state.'

*Trevor is another poster who pointed out that in America, you people call it a TRUNK rather then a BOOT, and also explained what was happening in the story, which I've already mentioned.

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