As I stoop to pick up my scuffed Louis Vuitton bag, I realise I’m no longer quaking in my boots. I’m upset, seething, and furious, but my fear has dissipated. The inner terror that he would morph into some demon and chain me to his bed has completely evaporated around me. I guess him trying at round two of fucking with my head does that; pulls my self-preservation back into the forefront. It’s weird to suddenly stop trembling and realise I still have much fight left.

Camilla ...