I knew … deep down … I knew something was wrong.

Why didn’t he listen to me? Why didn’t he stay with me?

I crawl to my knees desperately and head for the table like a child learning to move, trying to stop the terror from an inability to expand my lungs fully. A part of me tells myself to get up, pull myself together and rationalise. Trying to find that little girl who curled up to die at eleven years old, much like this, and pushing her to stop … just stop ...