I closed the app and threw the phone onto the carpet. ‘No. Just one of those stupid horror things that make you jump,’ I lied, wiping my eyes.

Ben went into the kitchen, the smell of curry turning my stomach as it wafted past. I rushed to the bathroom sink.

‘I bought elderflower gin, it was on offer. Didn’t you say you wanted to try it?’ Ben called, oblivious.

‘Brilliant, pour me a glass would you,’ I called back, sucking in air as the nausea subsided. I stared at my ashen face in the mirror. What was I doing? I was going to be found naked and dumped in an alleyway if I kept going down this rabbit hole. It was clear violence turned him on and that petrified me. Had he fantasised doing that to me?

‘It’s on the table,’ Ben called back.

I splashed water on my face and returned to the kitchen. I was safe here with Ben. For now, anyway.

‘Best Indian takeaway, bloody annoying they don’t deliver though,’ Ben said, thankfully unaware of the torment I was trying to hide.

I pushed the dhansak around my plate, willing my hunger to return.

‘Are you okay?’ Ben asked.

I nodded, forcing myself to make conversation. ‘So, Amy’s on a hen do then. Are you going to the wedding?’ Glad to change the subject, I forced a forkful of curry into my mouth, chewing rhythmically.

‘Yep, it’s two weeks away and I’ve got to get a suit. She’s already stressing about what to wear.’

‘It’s what us women do.’ Well, most women, normal women. Not so much me.

‘I’m just hoping she doesn’t catch the bouquet.’

I choked on my food then, spluttering as it lodged in my throat.

‘Otherwise you’ll be right up shit creek!’ I croaked.

My mood lifted a little and we joked good naturedly about the sort of wife Amy would make. We’d lounged on the floor, eating left over poppadums and watching Anchorman. I didn’t want the evening to end. For a while I forgot about Ian.

Saying goodnight to Ben was always difficult, especially after the kiss that seemed like it had happened years ago. Would it ever be repeated?

My bedroom was cold after the warmth and laughter of the front room. Under the duvet, I was terrified to open the app but compelled to at the same time. Hesitating, I opened the portal to Ian’s living space, relieved to see he wasn’t in view. I didn’t think I could go to the gym tomorrow. I couldn’t look him in the eyes so soon without revulsion etched across my face. How could I hold a conversation with him? How do I attract this predator without becoming his prey once more?

Sunday 28 January 2018 – DC Becker