He watches Kat busying herself in the kitchen, swearing under her breath as she knocks things too, overfills the kettle, drops spoons. ‘Fucking hell,’ she mutters, and I see her take a moment by the sink, resting her hands on the edge of the worktop then reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone, plugging it in to charge. Rhys, noticing, makes to move, but stops himself. Kat looks into the lounge and they catch sight of each other. I drop my eyes to my knees, to the rug.

James sits in the chair just across from me. I don’t need to look at him to know the pain I am causing. The distress. That he is here… He hasn’t changed. The boy I fell in love with, the one who thought the world’s weight should rest on his shoulders, he hasn’t changed. ‘Sorry,’ I hear myself say. ‘Sorry.’ I repeat the word, trying to clear the soreness in my throat. It aches each time I try to speak, but I must, now. I owe it to them all to explain. I just wish it didn’t hurt so: my throat, my head, my heart. Keeping this all inside, choosing not to talk, that was somehow easier. If I didn’t speak out loud, I didn’t have to build relationships that might stop me from finishing what I had begun.

Except it didn’t work. The more Rhys came to see me, the harder it all became. How could I do that to him, how could I just leave, after all he had done for me?

James leans forward, reaching for my hand, and I let him take it. He’s on the edge of his chair, and he doesn’t look at me, but he places his other hand on top of mine. His hands are soft. Warm. And I remember exactly how his touch felt all those years ago. It’s the same, though now it feels like his affection isn’t rightfully mine, no matter how much I want it. I can’t say as much – or perhaps I don’t want to – so we stay like that. Just touching.

Kat comes back into the room with drinks. She bends down before me, resting her elbow on the seat. ‘Susan, I need to make some calls.’ Her voice is low and uncertain. ‘The police need to know we’ve found you. The hospital need to know you’re safe.’ She seems frightened and nervous, but somehow still in control, trying to do the right thing. ‘And pain relief, you must be…’ She looks down to my leg. Until now, I haven’t felt a thing. Perhaps it’s just the fact she’s mentioned it, but now I can feel a thick, hot pain deep inside my leg. I nod again. ‘If you don’t want to go back to the ward, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home?’ she suggests, and my heart constricts. ‘We could try and implement a care plan. Perhaps I could take some time off and help to begin with?’ She looks to Rhys, who fidgets. They both know what she’s suggesting. A return to the place I rid myself of. ‘Familiar surroundings might help?’ she finishes.