I pulled the chair from my dressing table and propped it under the door handle. From the bedside table I took my favourite knife. I slipped off my trousers and slid the blade along my knicker line. As the blood trickled out, my fear flowed along with it. Soon I was breathing easier. I slapped a wodge of tissue against the cut and snapped my underwear elastic back into place.

I no longer cut my arms, nor anywhere that showed. My panty line was a recently discovered perfect secret place. Nobody saw it, and the fine dark hairs that were another recent addition hid the scars.

As I leaned against the headboard, lost in a world that nobody else visited, I heard a creak on the stairs. I sat upright, every part of me on alert now. Sure enough, after a moment, the doorknob twisted round. The chair moved half an inch; there was a grunt, a laugh and then the door was pulled shut.

‘See you again, pretty lady,’ said Carl.

I didn’t answer, and soon I heard his footsteps descending the stairs, and the front door banging behind him.

It was safe, finally, so I opened my door and padded quietly down the stairs. In the kitchen, a cigarette was burning down to the filter in the ashtray. I stubbed it out and went in search of my mother.

I found her in the living room, curled in a ball on the sofa. The room was in darkness, and the curtains – unused to being opened – released a flurry of dust as I pulled them to the sides. I watched the motes spinning in the air, and made a mental note to take the drapes down and wash them tomorrow.

I turned my attention to my mother.

In the sunshine I could see her clearly, her eyes tiny milky slits as she regarded me. Around her left arm was a soft cotton belt. My belt, I realised. Though why my mother would tie a belt around her arm was beyond me. On the floor was a needle, like the kind I’d recently seen when I’d had my inoculations at school. Inside it, a murky brown liquid bubbled. Beside the needle was one of our tablespoons. I bent down to look at it, and touched the brown stain then sniffed at it. I didn’t know what it all meant, but somehow I knew it wasn’t good.

I undid the buckle and slipped the belt from my mum’s arm. A little blood had stained the neon pink, and I sighed. I didn’t have any money to buy another belt. I rubbed at the blood, wondering if I could use a stain remover to get rid of it.