I climbed out of the bath and took my bag into my bedroom. Leaving my towel on the floor, I shuffled into my pyjamas. The familiar smell of washing powder comforting. Unable to stop shivering, I wrapped my duvet around myself. Digging my phone out of my bag and brushing off the debris, I saw I had eight missed calls and two texts. All from Jane. I sent her a message.

Have to cancel. Attacked on the way to the station. Can’t talk now. Will ring later. x

Twenty seconds later, my phone was ringing persistently again. Jane would have read that and be in a panic, but I couldn’t talk about it, not yet.

I lit the joint Ben had given me and inhaled, coughing it out. I never smoked pot, but I wanted to be out of it. I couldn’t deal with what had happened. I held the smoke in, so the buzz came fast, and let myself drift into oblivion. I needed to feel numb. I smoked half, staring at my book collection in a jumble on the floor. Colours and titles blurred into each other. I must get some shelves. Who was I kidding? I barely knew one end of a drill from the other.

I lay down and switched off my phone. I wanted to drift away and forget it all. I knew I had to call the police, report there was a sexual predator on the loose, but it would have to wait.

The balaclava crept into my dream. His soulless eyes penetrated me, lip curled into a smirk, mocking my terror…

When I woke, there were a few blissful seconds of ignorance until my cheek throbbed and the memory of this morning crashed in. The room was dim. What time was it? Had I slept all day? My stomach groaned; I’d not eaten since yesterday. All was quiet, Ben must have already left for work. His job as a Security Manager involved working twelve hour shifts on rotation, often at the weekend.

I went into the kitchen, surprised to see the time on the oven, it was seven in the evening. I prayed there would be milk in the fridge. I badly needed a cup of tea; my lips were beginning to crack.