‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m not bothered honestly,’ I lied, forcing a smile. Mopping up the spill with some kitchen roll before putting my hand on his forearm to reassure him.

‘I wish you’d said sooner. She only asked me yesterday,’ Ben grumbled, pushing his pasta around the bowl.

‘You two a thing officially now then?’ I didn’t want to ask but I couldn’t help myself. A pang in my chest told me all I needed to know. I wanted Ben and I didn’t want anyone else to have him, but I was too fucked up to do anything about it.

‘Sort of.’

I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it, so I gratefully changed the subject.

‘Shall we put some decorations up after dinner?’

Ben agreed, saying he would dig them out after we’d eaten.

I tried to keep the rest of the evening buoyant, but the mood dwindled and once the decoration box was empty we said our goodnights and went to bed.

Sunday 28 January 2018

‘He was on top of me, grabbing my breasts and pulling at my clothes. I was crying and saying no, begging. We struggled, and I managed to push myself off the sofa and onto the floor. We hit the coffee table on the way down. That’s when I felt his hands around my throat.’

My fingers flutter across my neck, I think the dark purple blotches are more obvious now. Skin is still tender.

Hicks stares at my throat and I see disgust reflected in his eyes. I can tell he’s old school. A gentleman, someone that abhors violence against women.

‘Why do you think it escalated so quickly?’ Becker asks.

‘I think he panicked that I was going to leave. When I stood up, that’s when he got physical. I’m sure he put something in my drink as he was frustrated I didn’t want it.’ Hicks and Becker exchange a glance, but I can’t read them. The doctor, Joyce, took a sample of my blood during my examination. Did they find anything in it?

‘Take your time,’ Hicks says and I realise I’ve been staring into space.

‘He squeezed my throat, with one hand at first, trying to undo my jeans with the other, but I was fighting so much he couldn’t do it, so he used both hands and that’s when I struggled to breathe.’

‘Do you think he wanted to kill you?’ Becker asks.

‘Yes, and he would have done too. I was terrified, fighting for my life.’

‘What happened next?’

Tears stream down my cheeks. This is exhausting.