As I free myself from his grip I hear his mother’s voice somewhere on the periphery of my consciousness, but it’s dulled by the rage boiling inside my head. How dare he try and make out like there’s something wrong with me? The anger twists and thickens in my stomach then rises, like fire, through my body until it reaches my temples and I hear a deafening scream. My own.

I lunge at Jackie and snatch the card from her hands.

‘Vanessa,’ cries Connor. ‘Stop this.’

He holds my arms and shakes me so hard the card falls to the floor. I look at his face, which is just inches from mine. His brown eyes are full of something I have never seen there before: hatred.

‘Just pull yourself together, can’t you?’ he says, squeezing tighter.

As I stand there like a limp rag doll, unable to move, I get a flashback. Connor lying on top of me, his face as angry and twisted as it is now. Me, crying in pain and begging him to stop. Truth shines through the mire of my brain and galvanizes me. I feel the stored-up anger taking over.

‘No, I won’t pull myself together,’ I cry, yanking my arms from his grip. ‘You did this to me. You are the one hurting me.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘You need help, Vanessa, you really do.’

At those words something inside me snaps and I throw myself at him with such force he falls backwards on to the sofa.

‘Enough,’ yells Jackie, grabbing me by the shoulders. ‘I will not have you abuse my son like this.’

‘Get off me,’ I cry, pulling my arm away. ‘This is none of your business.’

Then I hear a scream. Connor leaps up from the sofa.

I turn round. Jackie is holding her hand to her face. When she takes it away I see a pink patch on her cheek.

‘Mum?’ cries Connor, rushing to her side. ‘Oh God, she’s bleeding.’

He turns to me, his face red and sweating.

‘Look what you’ve done,’ he says. ‘You fucking psycho.’

26. Now

August 2018

It’s 9 a.m. I have lain here in bed for the last hour, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is my last morning of freedom. I try to imagine what prison will be like – the noise, the smell, the thud of the cell door as it closes behind me.

Enough, I tell myself as I climb out of bed. I will need to keep a cool head today. So I start to focus on the practicalities.