‘I can’t eat I’m too…’ I trail off, a yawn overtaking me, ‘zonked for food. I just need a shower, brush my teeth and get under the covers.’ I think about Cain’s training in the SAS. Resisting interrogation is drilled into them so if they’re ever taken prisoner they are more likely to withstand torture. Sleep deprivation is just part of it. Are they also skilled at interrogating others? Detecting lies from the subtle cues most people can’t disguise?

I start towards the bathroom, pulling my moss green ambulance officer’s shirt over my head and tossing it straight into the washing machine, despite the fact it’s only been worn for about half an hour.

‘Lina?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, turning back, seeing his frown. My heart pounds as he holds up his left hand.

‘Where’s your ring?’

Shit. I force a smile. ‘Oh, it’s still on my necklace from work.’

‘Where’s your necklace?’

‘Good question, must have left it in my locker at the station. I’ll get it on my next shift.’

‘Right, okay,’ he says, smiling. ‘I’d hate for someone to think you weren’t married.’

I eye him, keep my smile up. ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s much risk of that, Cain.’ Then I turn and step into the bathroom. Shit. The ring. Where did I put my necklace? It must be in the car or in my bag. I step into the scalding hot water. Thoughts are the master and feelings are the slaves. Now the thoughts come thick and fast followed by a rising anxiety. I was wearing it last night. I know I had my necklace on at the bar. I took it off at the house but did I have it this morning?

In the shower, I hold myself up off the wall, letting the water wash over me. When my skin is adequately scalded, I start to scrub at myself, lathering up under my arms, down my body, between my legs. I scrub it all away, the night that was, the man and his odour. The scene runs through my mind, his hands on me, his thumbs finding the base of my throat. It’ll be the one and only time. I can’t do it to Cain again. But what if I get desperate again? No. This emptiness, this regret, it’s not worth it.

After my shower, I regard myself in the mirror, scanning my body for any signs of Daniel. I glance down at my inner thighs for evidence of his hands. I turn my head and look closer at my neck, my ears where he had gently taken the lobe between his teeth. I stand there for a moment taking myself in, the sickness of guilt feels a lot like grief. A gut punch that almost brings tears. Was it really worth it? Do I actually feel better now?