He turned around and looked back in the mirror, checking his body. There were several bruises on his back. He daren’t look lower, but then he took a deep breath before casting his eyes down and then looking away immediately. He saw the dried blood at the top of his thighs and gagged. He managed to open the toilet just in time to throw up again. He clutched at his rib as he retched until his stomach was dry.

‘You all right in there?’ Imogen knocked on the door.

‘I’m fine,’ he said, panting, trying not to sound as fucked up as he felt.

He quickly turned the shower on again and got in, as though maybe this time he could wash the injuries away. Sobbing into the water, desperate to stop crying but finding it harder and harder to control, he gently rubbed shower cream between his legs, front and back. Even his own hands on his skin were making him feel worse.

Composing himself and getting dressed again, he took deep breaths until he felt he could pass for human again. He picked up the black sack and opened the bathroom door. Imogen was standing there.

‘You’re not right, Adrian. What have you taken for it?’

‘Nothing, I’ll be fine.’

He walked back into the bedroom and kicked the black bag under the bed before Imogen mentioned it.

‘Shall I get you some painkillers?’

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of that; maybe because the pain was incidental. It wasn’t the worst part of what had happened, it was the side effect. He could handle the physical pain – it hurt, of course – but it wasn’t what was upsetting him. The main source of his agony was inside and untouchable.

‘Yes, please. They are in the high cupboard next to the fridge.’

He felt he should be hungry, but somehow that was the last thing on his mind. The emptiness inside him was not a priority.

He climbed back in bed, careful to lie on his side propped up on the pillows to relieve the pain in his ribs, terrified of soiling the sheets again. Knowing full well if he told Imogen she would understand and that it might even relieve some of this internal pressure, the thought of saying it out loud made him gag. The idea of her thinking about him in that situation was not something he could entertain. He wasn’t sure if he could say it, wasn’t sure if his mouth would work enough for the words to come out.

Imogen reappeared with the painkillers. He leaned up on his elbow and took two, knowing that it would make no difference, not really. He lay back again and closed his eyes.