I raise my beer bottle to my mouth and I’m just about to take a swig when he grabs my hand. The bottle rattles against my top teeth.

“If you could kill anyone right now and get away with it, who would you kill, Emma?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Yes, I did, and it’s a ridiculous question.”

“I still want you to answer it.”

“Right, well, I wouldn’t kill anyone.”

“Liar!”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are. Nothing you’ve said since you walked in here has been honest. Everything is measured; everything has to be carefully thought out before you say it. Even when you admitted to being a people pleaser, other weaknesses and faults occurred to you first but you rejected them because being a people pleaser is a more socially acceptable answer. You’re not LIVING, Emma; you’re pretending to live. Your whole fucking life is a lie. It isn’t other people stopping you from being you: it’s you. Now tell the truth. If you could kill anyone, who would you kill?”

“I’ve already answered the question, Isaac, and you’re not listening to my answer. I would never kill anyone, whether there were consequences or not. I would never take someone else’s life.”

“Liar!”

The bottle flies from my hands as he lunges towards me and knocks me off my chair. My head smacks against the wooden floor and then he’s on top of me, straddling my waist, his hands on my wrists, pressing them either side of my head.

“Get off me, Isaac.”

“Isaac!” Al shouts his name, but he ignores her.

“Who would you kill, Emma?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Liar! Who would you kill?”

“No one!”

He shuffles forward so he’s sitting on my chest. I’m struggling to breathe now. Al pulls at his arm, but she’s not strong enough to dislodge him.

“Who would you kill?” Isaac’s face dips to meet mine and I know what he’s about to do before he does it. I open my mouth to protest and then his tongue’s in my mouth. My instinct is to bite down, and I’m about to clench my teeth when Isaac grabs my jaw with his right hand, preventing me from biting his tongue. I try to free my left arm to push him away, but he presses his knee into the crook of my elbow, pinning it to the floor.

He pulls back to ask again: “Who would you kill?”

A wave of panic engulfs me and the room seems to spin.

“Who would you kill, Emma? Tell me!”

I close my eyes but the tears force their way through my closed lids and roll down my cheeks. “Frank. Okay? If I had to kill someone, I’d kill Frank for trying to rape me. I want him to feel as terrified and defenceless as I did, the evil, fucking bastard.”