He replies with a smiley-faced emoji, which isn’t entirely appropriate given the seriousness of the issue we are due to discuss, but I hope it means he’s amenable to it. There’s no doubt you can draw more out of a story from someone sitting across the room from you than you can over an online chat, or even a phone call. I watch the three little dots appear on the screen that indicate he is typing and I wait for his response.

I didn’t have plans, but I can make them. Working all week, but how does your Friday night look?

Friday night is not usually a time I choose to work, but there’s no doubt it will add to the narrative to have Niall’s side of things in his own words. I’m sure I can manage to keep things on a professional level. I reply that Friday night would suit and we arrange to meet in Starbucks in the Foyleside Shopping Centre.

After what has been a stressful day, I feel the tension start to slip from my shoulders. I decide a bath will relax me completely, so I go to my bedroom to gather my dressing gown and my book to read while I soak. I look at my bed, stripped bare. I’ve thrown out all the paint-stained bedding. I’ll buy a new duvet and pillows tomorrow. The graffiti on the wall is still there – vivid and stark. I’ve arranged for a painter to come and cover it, and he’s coming tomorrow, too.

I stare at the words, examine every detail. A chill runs through me, followed by a burst of anger. I don’t have anyone’s blood on my hands.

I never did.

I decide to sleep on the sofa in the living room again, a throw pulled over me for warmth.

It’s a fitful night, one where I question everything. Where I question if I do make the world a worse place because of the job I do. Ask myself how much I have given up to get to where I am in my career. I’m not proud of myself. I have lied. I have manipulated people. I have done what I’ve needed to do to get the story before my competitors. I have worked harder and longer to establish myself. To prove I’m as capable as any of my male colleagues. That I’m better than Ryan Murray. That I’ve taken what he has taught me but exceeded his ambition.

Is it wrong to be so ambitious? I ask myself that often – more so at four in the morning. Especially when I feel alone. When I realise I’ve put my work over almost everything. When even my romantic life is entangled in career progression. Or at least it was to start with.