I waited in the dunes for the little girl to come back with her mum or dad. For Trav or Ethan to come looking for Conan and find me, sitting beside his cold body with a bloody knife in my hand. For anyone to appear and ask what I was doing. Call the police. Call someone. Take me in.

I was ready to tell them: I am Rhiannon Lewis. I have killed again. I will come quietly. I had never been more ready for anything.

But nobody came. Nobody came looking.

And eventually, as the clouds regrouped above me and the beach emptied, I buried Conan’s body in the sand with the knife. I walked down to a secluded part of the shore, tossing the phone and thumbing through the wallet, finding a student union ID, a debit card, a photo of some woman with her tits out and a small baggy of powder. I pocketed that and slung the rest.

I don’t remember a single other thing that happened that day. I must have got back onto our bus because I got back onto the ship. I must have snorted the cocaine but I can’t remember when. The next thing I knew, I was waking up, in my own bed, in my own cabin.

And all I could smell was shit.

Monday, 7 January – Barcelona

1. Christian rock bands
2. People on social media warning others of triggering in news articles
3. All those virtue-signalling Instacunts sipping cocktails but Sending Thoughts to those caught up in the Tenerife plane crash disaster
4. Gamers so addicted they’d rather piss than pause
5. Logan Paul

I opened my crusty eyes to see Caro, sitting in the chair beside me, thumbing through a leaflet called ‘Olé For Barcelona’, and shaking her head.

‘Why does it stink of shit?’ I croaked.

‘Because you’ve shit yourself,’ she replied without hesitation.

Apparently, I had passed Caro in the corridor outside my room where she’d been calling for me on and off all day long. She had noticed my nose was bleeding. Apparently she had followed me down into the gym where I had got on a treadmill and run seven kilometres.

Apparently, I had bought myself the most expensive drink at the juice bar – the Sunshine Superfoods Smoothie – because I needed ‘to rid myself of my toxins and replenish my Hilary’ and she had followed me back to my cabin where I had promptly thrown it all up again in the sink and got into my bed and talked her ear off for hours until I’d fallen asleep.

Apparently, at God knows what hour, I’d run out onto the deck and stood beside the railings deep-breathing until she had coaxed me back in and tucked me into bed. I remembered a sensation of being suffocated.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that I’d shit myself.