Darren pushes the door open and enters the weakly lit room. I can see the corners of his mouth spread into a grin as he creeps towards the bed. He pulls the duvet off his side and as he looks me up and down and registers what I’m wearing, he howls like a wolf which makes me laugh. His eyes flick momentarily towards the scar but quickly leave it behind as they lock onto my eyes.

I pull him close and he kisses me hard. His stubble scratches my skin, the slight grazes adding to the sensations coursing through my body. He pushes my head to the side gently and works his way down to my neck. As I close my eyes to focus on the feeling, the darkness transports me to another world.

He’s there. In the corner of the room. I hear his uneven breaths before I see him crawling out from his hiding place. His face is obscured by a balaclava but his eyes are locked on me, eyes that burn with calculated rage. He takes one step out of the shadows and as he slowly extends his arm, I see the blade shimmering in his hand. I’ve never been more aware of my mortality. I implore him to be calm and assure him that I’m here to help him, that I have his best interests at heart. After what seems like an eternity of deliberation, he makes a sudden jolt forward.

‘Fuck off!’ I scream and push him off me, lashing at his head with my fists. As he rolls away from me, I realise that it is not the man who stabbed me and left me for dead, but rather Darren. He looks hurt.

‘Darren, I’m sorry,’ I cry. ‘I thought you were him, I saw him in the room.’

He moves to the edge of the bed and plants his feet on the floor, shaking his head. In complete silence, he picks up his shirt from the foot of the bed and slides his arms in.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ he says quietly, whilst fastening the buttons. ‘I know what you’ve been through, and I know it can’t be easy to deal with, but I can’t do this. You aren’t even trying to get past it.’

Once these words have left his mouth, he immediately looks like he wishes he could take them back.

‘I am fucking trying to get past it!’ I yell. ‘Do you think I like the memory of being stabbed hanging over me every day? Do you think I like that he has pretty much taken away my chance…my ability to be a… a mother?’ I can barely get the last word out through the tears. I glare at him and he recoils slightly.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just mean, even before you got stabbed, we weren’t happy,’ he says quietly. ‘It’s unfortunate that you can’t have…’

‘Unfortunate?’ I interrupt, not wanting to hear the end of his sentence. ‘Unfortunate? Losing your bank card is unfortunate. Dropping your phone down the toilet is unfortunate. Not being able to have children is a fucking tragedy. Get the fuck out.’