‘But what if I had a blackout that I don’t remember? What if I drove back to my house and ran Billy over?’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘I wouldn’t.’ I shake my head. ‘I’d never hurt him. Ever.’

‘Was your car damaged the day after he disappeared? Did you have to take it to a garage to get the windscreen repaired?’

‘No, I … I drove to work and then back home at the end of the day.’

‘I think,’ Sonia presses the palms of her hands together, ‘that the vision you had when you transitioned out of your fugue was more akin to a nightmare induced by feelings of guilt.’

‘For going to mum and dad’s the night Billy disappeared?’

She nods. ‘I think the dream also manifests your worst fear.’

‘That Billy’s dead? No. He’s still alive, I’m sure of it.’

‘Okay.’ She looks at me thoughtfully then leans back in her chair for the first time since I started speaking. ‘In a minute we’re going to do a few exercises to help you manage your anxiety but before we do I need to reassure you that what you experienced, what you felt and what you’re still feeling as a result of your fugues is completely normal. And that the violent thoughts you’ve suffered are also normal.’

Normal.

The relief I feel is so sudden, so intense, that I burst into tears.

‘Are you all right to continue?’ Sonia asks as the tears abate and I slump back against the sofa, totally spent.

I nod. It takes every last ounce of energy that I have.

‘What made you cry, just then?’

‘Relief that I haven’t turned into some kind of psychopath.’

She smiles sympathetically. ‘You’re not a psychopath, Claire. I’m ninety-nine per cent sure of that.’

I close my eyes and take a deep, settling breath. As I do so an image of Billy, lying on his bed with his headphones jammed onto his ears and his laptop on the bed beside him, pops into my head. He looks up, as though suddenly realizing I’m at the door, then winks. ‘Only ninety-nine per cent, Mum? So that means there’s still a one per cent chance you are a psychopath.’

My smile must have registered on my face because, when I open my eyes again, Sonia is looking at me curiously.

‘What were you thinking about, Claire? Just then, when you closed your eyes?’

‘About Billy. I was just imagining what he’d say if …’ I tail off. Moments like that – happy thoughts that break up the unrelenting gloom – I need to hug them to my chest and hold them close. Sharing the image of Billy with Sonia would only dilute it.