‘I learned how to deal with them,’ Connie said. ‘It took me a long time, but I figured out what they really needed.’

‘I felt it when I saw you on the video,’ he said. ‘I knew you understood me.’

‘Those people, the ones who act compulsively, they can’t be stopped. Can’t be treated. Even hospitalisation isn’t enough. They still hurt people.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘If we’re going to die here together,’ Connie said, ‘let me put my arms around you. It’s hard to breathe.’

There wasn’t enough oxygen for them both.

‘I’d like that,’ he said.

Connie slid her right hand beneath his neck, bringing her left up to meet it above his body, then reversing course, praying he couldn’t feel what she was doing, releasing her left hand again to reach down and take his right hand in hers, intertwining their fingers. She paused in the darkness. It didn’t scare her. When you lived your life in black and white, you got used to darkness. Other things still did. Lack of privacy. Lack of control. Unwanted physical contact, prying eyes.

Above them, no more than a distant impact, was a rhythmic vibration.

Footsteps. More than one pair. Rapid. Her other senses had sharpened long ago to make up for her lack of colour vision. Whoever was coming was not above them yet, but they soon would be. Connie smiled in the darkness.

‘What I learned was that truly dangerous people can never be released into the world, not into any environment. Not a prison, or a hospital, or even a psychiatric ward. Because sooner or later, someone screws up. Some well-intentioned doctor or probation officer decides they can be released into the community, or onto a general ward. And then they hurt other people.’ Connie began pulling her right hand away from the back of his neck. ‘They’ll hurt anyone they can find. That’s what mental illness does inside the wrong brain. It creates monsters.’

‘What are you—’

She pulled sharply down, tensing for the inevitable smack against her own head, gripping his hand as tightly as she could bear. The belt she’d slipped off her waist and fed loosely around his neck whip-cracked against its buckle, the noose pulling tight only when his neck provided enough resistance. Pain exploded in her skull and she embraced him, pushing her body forward into his to ensure his left arm remained useless beneath him.

The struggle to free his right hand from her left began, but she was ready for that one. He screamed at her, and the noise was beyond human. Outrage, fury, defiance, hatred.