Where is the truth? It hides so well, in cold and stark places, devoid of any meaning. Slippery like an eel, you can’t ever really hold it for more than second in your fingers.

When there’s that tiny moment, I realised I have been lying to myself all along. I felt meek, like I was submerged, underwater, I couldn’t speak.

He asked me again, but the question made no sense, so I couldn’t respond. The anger in his eyes was sparking, it was like tinder waiting to flame. I could see his arms were twitching, electrical pulses as the adrenaline kicks in. You can’t just stand there in silence. Accusatory, blame, guilt, perniciousness.

So, I turned and ran, it seemed the only illogical thing to do, and I’m a fan of doing the absolute worst thing. Once you’ve done it, you are safe in the knowledge that it can’t get any worse - right?