Skull Crushed On The Dance Floor

A 15 st gas canister fell on my face By Laurie Balfour, 25, from Doncaster

- Lianne La Borde/Jamie Mountain

Stepping off the plane, a waft of heat hit me.

‘We’re here!’ my mate Claire grinned.

It was August last year, and I’d joined Claire and three mates on a girly holiday on the Greek island of Zante. 

‘A week of sun, sea and cocktails,’ I smiled. 

We were soon by the pool. 

On our second day, we went to a boat party. 

Afterwards, I remember getting off the coach, heading to a bar on the Laganas strip.

Then nothing. Until I woke up in a white room, alone. 

Drowsy, head fuzzy. 

Scared and confused, I didn’t know where I was or what’d happened to me.

It’s all a blur, but I must’ve drifted in and out for days.

At some point, I realised my mum Deana, 49, and dad Philip, 48, were there.

It was comforting to see them, but they looked so worried.

‘Do you know who we are?’ Mum asked.

Unable to speak, I nodded.

Pumped full of medication, I was aware of very little.

But, slowly, I became more alert.

I understood there’d been an accident. I was in hospital, on life support.

I had a tracheotomy in my throat to help me breathe, so I couldn’t talk.

When doctors and my parents asked questions, I silently mouthed the answers.