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Sebastian Fitzek

Splinter

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Have you ever done something you wish you could forget?
Wracked with grief after an accident killed his wife and unborn child, all Marc Lucas wants is to wipe his memory. Until he returns home one night to find that his key doesn't fit in the lock and his wife is alive, well and pregnant – but claims not to recognise him.
Marc is drawn into a nightmare world, one where it's impossible to separate reality from fiction. Is he going mad? Or is there a conspiracy at work – one that could cost him his memory, his sanity…even his life.
Dit boek is momenteel niet beschikbaar
298 afgedrukte pagina’s
Oorspronkelijke uitgave
2011
Jaar van uitgave
2011
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Citaten

  • sadia aktarciteerde uit4 jaar geleden
    ‘Our problem is not that we learn too little. On the contrary, our problem is forgetting.’
  • b5726973370citeerde uit8 jaar geleden
    aberland’s eyes were completely expressionless. If he was frightened, he managed to conceal it as effectively as the old dog asleep in a little wicker basket by the window. The buff-coloured ball of fur hadn’t even raised its head when they came in.
  • b5726973370citeerde uit8 jaar geleden
    TODAY

    Marc Lucas hesitated. The one uninjured finger of his broken hand hovered over the brass button of the antiquated doorbell for a long time before he pulled himself together and pressed it.

    He didn’t know what time it was. The horrors of the last few hours had robbed him of his sense of time as well. Out here in the middle of the forest, though, time seemed unimportant anyway.

    The chill November wind and the sleet showers of the last few hours had subsided a little, and even the moon was only intermittently visible through rents in the clouds. It was the sole light source on a night that seemed as cold as it was dark. There was no indication that the ivy-covered, two-storeyed, timber-built house was occupied. Neither did the disproportionately large chimney jutting from the gabled roof appear to be in use, nor could Marc smell the characteristic scent of burning logs that had woken him in the house that morning – shortly after eleven, when they had brought him to the professor for the first time. He’d been feeling ill even at that stage, dangerously ill, but his condition had dramatically worsened since then.

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