‘No, thank you, I just want to sleep.’

I yawn, hiding my amusement as I watch Becker turn away to do the same.

Once inside the cell, I put on grey jogging bottoms and a sweatshirt that’s been left for me, to replace the paper suit. Glad not to have the irritating crackle every time I move. Wrapped in my blanket, I huddle down on the bench. Fully intending to go over answers to questions I know I will be asked in a few hours, but within minutes my eyes are closing, exhaustion wins, and I drift off to sleep. For the first time in months I don’t dream at all.

Tuesday 10 October 2017

The following day, I roped Ben into taking me to the supermarket, where I stocked up on meat, so I could get the protein I was lacking.

‘I bet you didn’t know I could cook,’ I said to Ben, putting some diced pork into the trolley. The aisle was freezing, and my jumper wasn’t doing much to stave off the cold. Outside, the temperature had dropped, the Indian summer we’d been blessed with had gone and autumn was on its way. The supermarket was already filling its shelves with pumpkins and sweets for trick or treat.

‘Are you going to cook for me then?’ Ben’s eyes sparkled.

‘I might. What do you like?’

Ben put two sirloin steaks into the trolley and raised his eyebrows at me expectantly. I swallowed hard but smiled. I hoped he was paying?

‘Okay, you’re on. I’ll cook you a steak tonight. How do you have it?’

‘Medium is fine. Anything as long as it’s not bleeding.’

‘Me too.’ I chuckled.

‘I’ve got to pop out this afternoon though,’ he said.

‘Table will be laid for seven. If you’re late it’s going in the dog.’

‘We don’t have a dog.’

I had a productive afternoon cleaning the flat, putting on washing and even fitted in a workout at lunchtime. Jason had been there and humoured me with some light sparring in the ring. I looked like an idiot, wearing the helmet and mouthguard, but we danced around, and he was kind enough to let me land a few punches. My groin ached from yesterday’s jog, so I walked most of the way there and back, not wanting to push myself too much too soon.

When I got home, I showered and put on jeans and a top, something fitted opposed to the baggy clothes I’d been wearing recently. When I looked at my reflection, the girl I used to be stared back. I wore my mousy hair down after smoothing with the straighteners. It felt odd as I hadn’t worn it loose since the attack. Remembering him yank my hair sent a shudder through me. I applied a touch of make-up but still something was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.