There was a question Paul wanted to ask. The question was, 'Why am I not in a hospital?' But by the time his mind was clear enough to form the question, he already knew better than to ask it.

For two weeks Paul drifted on the tide of pain. When the tide was out he was aware of the woman sitting beside his bed. More often than not she had one of his books - his Misery books - open on her lap. She told him she had read them all many times and could hardly wait for the publication of Misery's Child.

He soon learned that it was Annie Wilkes who controlled the tides. She was giving him regular doses of a pain-killing drug called Novril. When Paul was conscious more than he was unconscious or asleep, he knew that Novril was a powerful drug: he knew because he could no longer live without it. She was giving him two tablets every four hours and, by the time three or three-and-a-half hours had passed, his body was screaming for the relief which only the drug could bring.

The most important thing he learned, however, during these first few weeks when the tide of pain rolled in and out was that Annie Wilkes was insane. Some part of his mind knew this even before he opened his eyes.

Everybody in the world has a centre. Whatever mood a person is in, whatever clothes he or she is wearing, we recognize that person because he or she has a solid basis. Even if we haven't seen someone for many years, we can still recognize him: something inside him is permanent and the same as it always was and always will be. All a person's other qualities turn round this centre.

Annie Wilkes occasionally lost her centre. For periods of time which could last only a few seconds or longer, there was nothing solid in her. Everything about her was in motion, with no basis on which to rest. It was as if a hole opened up inside her and swallowed every human quality she possessed. She seemed to have no memory of these times. In contrast, however, her body was very solid and strong, especially for a middle-aged woman.

At first Paul was only aware that something was wrong with her, without knowing exactly what. His first direct experience of the hole came during a seemingly ordinary conversation.

Annie was, as usual, going on about how proud she was to have Paul Sheldon - the Paul Sheldon - in her own home. 'I knew your face,' she said, 'but it was only when I looked in your wallet that I was sure it was you.'

'Where is my wallet, by the way?' asked Paul.