I told Mia about it and managed to keep it a secret from Liam. I gave Mia my ID documents and she opened a bank account for me online and called the insurance company pretending to be me. Once they paid the three hundred thousand pounds from the policy into the account, Mia used half to buy the isle of Shura, which was going cheap, though neither of us knew the reason why.

The idea was to trap Liam in a place where he couldn’t escape, so he’d know what it was like to be hunted by an invisible prey; what it was like to be stalked, to be victimised, to be starved, to be controlled; to, above all, feel fear. We wanted him to know just a sliver of what we have endured at his hands.

I thought it might be too difficult to pull off, too twisted a revenge, when really all I wanted was for my nightmare to be over.

‘It’s never over,’ Mia argued. ‘If we don’t do this, he’ll kill you eventually.’

Her words seeped in. I knew they were true. The bruises on my body seemed to throb with the knowledge too.

‘And he’ll get away with it,’ she went on. ‘And then he’ll find another woman and do the same to her.’

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Killing someone – becoming a murderer – was that something I could do? Was it the right thing? Was it right to make him suffer the way he had made us suffer?

I thought of my mother and I knew the answer was yes.

‘He’s a policeman,’ I said, weakly. ‘How can we manage to trick him?’

Mia snorted. ‘No he isn’t. I found out from the private investigator I hired. He’s not a policeman or a detective. He never was. He lied to us both. It was to make us afraid, so we’d be less likely to report him. He’s never had a job. He’s been living off money his mum left him.’

I had suspected it, but hearing the truth was altogether different. My whole life was a lie; nothing felt real any more, except for one thing: the terror coursing through my body; a feeling that never faded or ebbed but just kept building like a floodwater, always rising.

‘I’m ready,’ I said, turning back to Mia and looking her in the eye. ‘Tell me what I need to do.’

Our plan took a while to work out. Every day Mia would sneak into the back garden over the fence and I’d go out with Isis – or rather Jet – and we’d hide behind the shed and discuss the plan. Mia gave me a throwaway phone, too, which I hid on silent in a plastic bag, taped to the underside of the bed.