And God, I hate myself. I truly fucking hate myself. I’m a cheat, I’m a slut, I’m everything I hate. I’m a woman who’s supposedly in love with somebody else. I’m having fun and I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t.

Justin’s hands move upwards beneath my dress and I don’t stop him. He takes one of my breasts, massages it gently; I moan when his fingers brush my nipples.

Touch me. Touch me! I want to yell.

I want—

SMASH!!!

We’re pulled apart by an almighty high-pitched shattering noise.

I think I scream.

I’m on the floor, my knees drawn into my chest. I want to scream again, but I can’t – I’m frozen in fear. Justin puts on the light and we see that a broken plank of wood has smashed through the large balcony door. I want to cry – feel the sort of release that only crying can bring – but I’m taken over by an intense trembling.

‘It’ll pass soon,’ Justin cries out.

‘Why should I believe you?’

‘Look, I know I underestimated this weather but, seriously, we’re in the thick of it now. Remember a little while ago, when it felt like it was dying down? That was the calm before the storm, as they say.’

‘That’s actually a thing?’

‘Where do you think the saying comes from?’

More crashing and smashing noises dance around us, louder now through the broken window. Justin’s on his hands and knees crawling closer to the balcony.

‘Justin! What the hell are you doing?’

He doesn’t answer, just continues to edge closer until he can see out of the window.

‘It sounds worse than it is,’ he tells me. ‘The crashing is only tiles falling from the roof.’

‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’

I can’t be here, not for a second longer.

I find my feet and scramble to the door, open it and let it slam behind me. I don’t say goodbye. I just keep on scrambling until I’m back in my own room listening to the tiles falling down around me. I heave the mattress off my bed and drag it to the floor, getting as low as possible. And I lie down, the beat of my heart so intense that I’ll never sleep. I never quite realised until now, but it’s impossible to think about anything when you’re scared, other than what you’re scared of. The moment is so enormous, the present so all-consuming.

So I wait.

Crashing subsides into scraping. Scraping becomes rustles. The noise doesn’t die, but it does fade, gradually, ever so slowly. I think I drift into a light slumber, although I’m still fully aware of where I am.

There’s a knock on my door.

Justin.

No. I can’t. I just can’t.