I don't register much. I think I'm in that state of semi-consciousness where you're unsure if you're awake or not. Where your mind is clouded over and nothing seems real.

And so I barely register the slap across my face.

"Ow," I mumble, and my voice seems to echo. Whether it's inside my head, I don't know, but I certainly don't like the slapping.

And then another strike, right across my nose.

"Julian," someone is saying. "Julian, wake up!"

And then my eyes are opening, a blur at first, until the blur turns into dots, lines, features. And before I know it, Bea's face is inches away from mine, hand behind her, poised. Only everything is grainy because it's dark.

"Thank God," she mutters. "I honestly thought you'd choked on all that water."

"What?" is all I can say. My head still feels like it's made from cotton wool.

"Come on, get up. See everything for yourself."

She slips her hands under my pits and hoists me to a sitting position. I blink, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

And then the smell.

The smell.

A mixture of fish guts, poo, and rotting vegetables hits me so hard that I go reeling back, a hand clamped over my nose and mouth, almost gagging.

But that isn't as bad as the sight.

All around us, there is red everywhere. Different shades; blood red, a crimson red, and a mix between pink and red. The texture of the walls is slimy and smooth, and the floor beneath me feels sticky and wet to the touch. I raise my hand to find a thick, sticky substance oozing through my fingers.

I give a shout, heart thumping wildly as I turn to Bea. "There's blood everywhere!"

Gravely, she nods.

"Where the hell are we?"

"I don't know." Unlike me, she seems calm. I watch as she observes our surroundings. "But all I remember was we were in that river."

"It was vibrating," I add. "And there was a fish."

"A trout," she corrects. "It was a humongous trout swimming up the river."

"And then what?"

"I don't know; I can't remember."

There's a brief silence before I say, "Did it eat us?"

She turns to me, and there's the look again. The one that says that she can't stand me. "Are you out of your mind? Of course we didn't get eaten! What, do you think we're like Jonah in the blue whale?"

"But look at this." I stretch out my bloodied hand to her and she recoils, lips curled in disgust. "Does this look normal to—?" Only something behind her grabs my attention.

"What?" she growls, whipping her head around. I scrabble to my feet, half-slipping, half-running towards the huge object in the distance.

It's a thick, translucent, white pole that runs along the whole way across the room, smaller crystalline parts sprouting off like branches of a tree. In the small amount of light, the huge structure glimmers, contrasting to the red all around.

"Didn't you know that's the spine?" asks Bea, appearing at my side. "Or are you as stupid as I think you are?"

I continue staring at the white thing that runs all the way down across from us, into the gloom.

"I think you're right," I half-whisper.

"I know I'm right."

But I don't listen to her. The bullet has finally struck home and has embedded itself in a place where it can't be dislodged; I will never be rid of this knowledge, this feeling.

We were eaten by a giant trout. And now we're stuck inside it.