That’s what he thinks I am, and all he sees is a jaded vessel that too many men have used. I give up on my sad little ray of hope and again feel dishevelled. Trying hard to block them out and pass out. Willing to give in to the darkness before he does any more mental damage to me.

Someone pulls my body, but I can barely feel their hands on me. I’m not connected anymore and do not react, allowing myself to be hauled down the bed and manoeuvred. It sends me further towards the ...