This Is How the Story Ends . . .

‘I’m counting back now, Hannah . . . eight, seven, six . . . Your breathing slows . . . Your eyes fall deep into their sockets . . . five, four, three, two . . . You are deeply, deeply relaxed . . .’

‘It’s so hot tonight.’

‘Where are you, Hannah? Tell me what you see.’

‘I’m in my bed above the tool store. There’s a strange light keeps flashing . . . No, no, it’s the storm brewin’ outside and lightning crackling in the sky.’

‘Go deeper now . . . You can remember everything. Tell me, how old are you, Hannah?’

‘I’m thirteen or fourteen years old – and I’m so afraid!’

‘You know how to wake if you need to . . .’

‘I’m kneeling on my bed. Here’s my dreamcatcher blowin’ at the window an’ I stare through its web at the yard below. There’s a whole lot of noise out there, and suddenly I see a Jeep drivin’ fast through the gates. I hear doors slammin’. The dog is barking in the doghouse . . . and now it’s yelping – maybe he’s kicked it.’

‘Who is it? Who has returned so late?’

‘Erwin. It’s Erwin. Oh God! He’s comin’ into the tool store below. I hear him crashin’ about downstairs. He’s drunk – I can tell because he’s stumblin’ and cussin’. Now . . . Oh my Lord! He’s treading up my stairs . . .’

‘You remember everything, but you are quite, quite safe . . .’

‘I always knew he would come – that’s why I never go to my bed without heavin’ the chest of drawers against the door.’

‘Take it steady, Hannah . . .’

‘I’m out of my bed, shivering in my nightgown, and outside the thunder is crashin’. Now I’m piling chairs and the laundry basket against the door – I need to stop him getting in. I’m trying to drag the bed, but he’s so strong, the door is already opening . . . Oh Lord! I see one huge hand reachin’ at me, and he’s saying, “Ah’m cummin’ for ya, gal. Ah always tol’ ya ah would.”

‘I’m whimperin’ like the dog in the yard an’ I’m callin’, “Pip, Pip, I need you now!”

‘Then I’m climbin’ back into bed ’cos there’s nowhere else to go. I’m pullin’ the blankets way up to my eyes. Suddenly there’s an almighty CRASH! – and Erwin is here! Right here in my room! Nearly seven feet tall. No matter how many times I see that man, I am shocked and terrified. I’m tryin’ to disappear into the bed and he’s lookin’ down at me, bent beneath the ceiling, like . . . like a shrunken head on a stick.’

‘Keep breathing, Hannah. Remember you can wake if you want to . . .’

‘And now he’s bendin’ down, and my heart is beatin’ so fast it may bust my rib cage. The smell of whiskey makes me wanna puke. His long fingers are tuggin’ at my blankets, he’s pushin’ that tombstone face right up to mine, and he whispers, “Ah ’magine yer ’bout the purtiest li’l woman ah ever seen.”

‘Now he’s untyin’ his laces and pullin’ down his dungaree straps – then he trips and hits the bed so hard it knocks the breath out of me. My mouth is dry – I can’t find a sound, but my eyes – my eyes are . . . screaming!’

‘But you remembered the words, Hannah? The words I taught you?’

‘I’m trying to find the words, because I know they can save me. But I been silent for so long . . . I been mute for years now, and my jaw is frozen and my tongue don’t work.

‘Erwin’s naked and slimy with sweat. There’s a big ugly tattoo on his back: a blood-drop on a white cross.

‘He’s kneelin’ on my bed, which almost gives way, and he’s pressin’ his mouth against mine and pushin’ his tongue inside – I can taste the chicken and onions he had for his supper.

‘I feel his stubble scrapin’ my skin. I’m tryin’ to twist my head away. Then he says, “Ah ain’t gonna hurcha, gal. Wal, not too much anyways.”

‘And I know I’m gonna die . . . Right here. Right now . . .’

‘That’s grand, Hannah. You’ve done well. I’m going to wake you now. I’m going to bring you slowly back . . . and when you awake, you will remember everything, but you will feel calm and strong. I’m counting from one to ten.

‘One, two, three . . . slowly awakening . . .

‘Four, five, six . . . opening your eyes . . .

‘Seven, eight, nine . . . Wake up now, Hannah, and join me back in the room.’