“What happened to bring you here?” Roberto says slowly.

His pen’s waiting like it’s my words that give it power. I wish there was something I could tug in my head so that the story just unravels into one long thread. Instead, it’s just loops.

Blake’s holding my knitting.

The doorbell rings.

I go into Blake’s room and I see the tangle of wool.

I pick up the knitting needle.

I stab Blake’s hand.

Blake’s holding my knitting.

The doorbell rings.

I go into Blake’s room and I see the tangle of wool.

I pick up the knitting needle.

I stab Blake’s hand.

My fingers are knitting air again. I still don’t know what to start saying, so Roberto tries to use his words instead.

“Mr Morrisey alleges that you attacked him with knitting needles.” Roberto’s pen moves across his notepad even though he’s only writing down what he’s said himself.

“Don’t worry,” Roberto says. “I’m here to make sure you’re OK. I’m on your side.”

My side? Man’s only just met me and I can see by the way he looks at me that he’s already formed his opinions. I know whose side he’s on.

“It’s your chance to tell us your version of events,” Roberto says.

Us. He doesn’t say “me”. He says “us”. Roberto and Elena and the rest of the police – in it together.

Vera leans forward and says, “Thank you for reassuring your client that you are acting for her and not the police.”

Vera moves her chair. She manages to twist her shoulder so it faces Roberto. I can just see his face behind her. He looks annoyed.

“You are his client,” Vera says. “He has to do what you instruct him to.” She says “he” so sharp it makes my teeth ache. “Sometimes lawyers forget that.”

Roberto sighs. “Shall we return to the incident?” he asks.

Vera’s still facing me as she says, “Is there anything you want to say privately first, Charlene?”

I shake my head. I don’t want to say nothing to no one. I don’t want to go back into the loop.

Blake’s holding my knitting.

The doorbell rings.

I go into Blake’s room …

“What happened today?” Vera asks.

“Mr Morrisey alleges …” Roberto says, nodding towards me, “that my client attacked him with knitting needles in his bedroom.”

“Does he indeed?” Vera says, and touches my arm. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about in private, Charlene? It’s important that the police have the full story. Your story. And I know some things can be hard to say.”

I look at the desk and my fingers.

Vera says quietly, “Did Blake do something that made you angry?”

I clear my throat. This woman is going to stare at me until I say something.