I awoke with a gasp.

Lying in bed, the first thing I saw was rotten wooden boards that formed what one could charitable call a ceiling. 

I shut my eyes, feeling a rapid pulse behind them and a slight ringing in my ears. My skin was itchy and slick with sweat, drenching the unfamiliar bedding and itchy covers. 

My body wasn't much better, riddled with cramps while my stomach rolled like I had just consumed half-cooked food.

I felt like throwing up, and I did. All over the bedsheets.

Wiping my mouth with the cleanest bit, I glanced around the room; my awareness of the world slowly coming back to me, but not fast enough. 

The room didn't look familiar, not in the slightest. It was dirty and bare, with wooden floors, wooden walls and shutters that had been left closed. Thanks to that, the interior was so stuffy I could barely breathe.

'Where am I?' The last thing I could remember was walking to college where I'd been crossing the road. There was a car and . . .

'Jesus, I need some air.'

Wherever I was in, it didn't look like a hospital room. Or it was and the NHS really was as bankrupt as the news claimed. 

That or . . . I didn't know. The pain in my stomach was soon ignored as I tried to figure out where I was – a messily chaotic room rank with the smell of sweat and shit and sickness. 

Perhaps the person that hit me didn't want to be tried for car offenses so he abducted and threw me into what looked like a fairly large shed.

Wherever I was, I was going to make as much distance between myself and this place as possible.

With a groan, I threw back the soiled covers and sat up from the bed that might as well be solid wood for how hard it felt. 

That took more effort than expected and I felt faint from the effort, though not enough to stop me. 

Wiping the dark-hair out my eyes, I stood up, feet wobbling beneath my body. A part of me wanted to lay down, curl up into a ball and wait this out. But I couldn't. I needed to leave. 

That was until I looked down that I realised something. I wasn't wearing clothes – which was a creepy realisation in itself – and that… that my body looked different. 

It was shorter and gone was my flabby body with weedy arms. It was lean and slim with noticeable muscle. 

My skin was tanned as well, not the pasty white that came with isolating oneself from the sun.

Almost tripping, I painfully staggered to a mirror above a bowl of water.

Looking into the polished reflection, I stared wide eyed. The first thing I noticed was my hair. 

It wasn't brown, it was blue; brushing down to my shoulders in curly waves. I pulled the silken strands back and if I just thought my hair was dyed an absurd colour, I was wrong. 

The roots were blond, so pale they looked white. Looking from the hair to my eyes, they too had changed. 

They weren't brown either, they were dark blue and framed by long eyelashes like that of a girl. 

That wasn't to mention the face itself. The face staring back at me was younger, delicate and boyish.

'What the bloody fuck is going on?'

I staggered back, my hands on the face that I was certain wasn't my own. It took a few moments of heavy breathing before my mind began to calm from the revelation. 

'Ok!' I said to myself, trying to take deep and steady breaths. The last thing I remember is nearly being hit by a car in jolly old London and then finding myself in a shed with a different face and blue-hair that makes me look like a Fire Emblems character. It didn't help by the fact the face that stared back at me looked bishie as hell.

That was when my mind began trying to make justifications on what was happening. Maybe the mirror was a screen or something, that couldn't have been my face. 

It couldn't have been a prank, could it? 

I shook my head and looked once more at the face before me. It was young, possibly ten years of age. 

That couldn't have been true. I was twenty, nearing twenty-one. Either it was an elaborate conspiracy against me, a complete hallucination, or I was suffering a serious breakdown . . . Maybe it was something else . . .

'Yes, a hallucination or breakdown.' That was what I considered true at that moment. To try and bring myself together.

I ran my hands through my hair and splashed my face with the water within the bowl. The water was cool and for that I was thankful.

It felt stuffy in the room. It had been hot, and now there was a sheen of sweat forming that felt freezing. I shivered. The next thing I did was swing open the shutters to let some proper light and air inside.

If my luck couldn't get any worse, it didn't look like I was in London anymore. It was sunny outside, not cloudy. There were trees and long grass humming with grasshoppers with a stream in the distance. 

The wind that blew was refreshingly cool and clean. It smelled of grass and earth, a mildly spicy scent mixed with the sharper smell of manure.

This was getting stranger and more concerning.

It was then that the door opened and I immediately jumped backwards. Two figures of men stood at the door. 

For a moment we both stared before I realised I was naked. I rushed to cover myself and the two intruders were quick to avert their eyes. It was clear none of us were fast enough.

"Aegon, in the name of the sweet Mother Above, put some clothes on!"

I stopped, my mind taking a moment to process that name, those words.

'Aegon? Game of Thrones Aegon?' It was then it struck me, the revelation hitting me like a ton of bricks . . . or a speeding car.