The next time I rouse, there is a sandwich on a plate on the floor not far from me. My head, and everything about me, hurts, and eating is something I feel I’ll never do again. But I make myself lean across and grab the plate — ham, tomato, and cheese on white bread. I can’t taste it, but I manage to eat it. At least he’s not trying to starve me to death.

And then Sarah is sitting on the floor beside me, legs crossed, rubbing her hands on her knees. I ignore her, because it’s impossible that she is here. She says over and over that she doesn’t blame me, and it wasn’t my fault. Accidents happen. I believe her, but it doesn’t matter. It’s all finished for me now. I tell her I love her, and she disappears. Then all the people that matter to me visit: Mum, Dad, Marko and Helen, Ian and Mandy, Ralph and Reedy, Tom Little, the fire brigade boys, distant relatives, and people I’ve known all my life. All of them encourage me, telling me not to give up. I just smile at them and nod, accepting their goodwill, but refusing to point out that there is no future for me, and nothing to be positive about. Even Elaine turns up, apologising and swearing she never knew a thing. At one point she takes off her clothes, but I turn away. I should never have had anything to do with her.

Then I’m alone. I stand for the first time in what seems weeks. My head doesn’t hurt as much, and my sight is clearer. I piss in the corner, and the stench fills the room. I drink some water, and slump back down on the floor. Across from me is a rope. I pick it up, and run it through my hands. It is a good piece, fairly new, and maybe ten metres long. Why a rope? I look up at the rail bolted to the ceiling, and suddenly I know what Ben’s plan is. He thinks I’m only a little push off finishing myself. Already mad as. A couple of days in solitary confinement, and I’m as good as gone. He’s right. He’s more astute than I ever gave him credit for.