uick, Mum,’ you yell, grabbing her arm, ‘let’s make a break for it!’

You try to drag her down the drive with you, but to your horror you only get three steps before your legs buckle and you’re lying face down on the ground.

‘Get up,’ Stacey growls, kicking you in the ribs with her Doc Martens. It’s a very painful kick, and you crawl back up and stagger to your feet.

‘Now,’ Stacey says, ‘come with us and don’t try any funny business.’

You follow her and her mother. You’re limping along, barely able to walk, but you don’t dare fall behind. You find yourself going towards a big old grey castle, built of stone, with a drawbridge across the moat. As you approach the entrance, the air feels colder, a dark cloud comes across the sun, and a musty smell drifts into your nostrils. You and your mum are walking so slowly that you have fallen a bit behind, but the other two don’t seem to mind. Maybe they realise you’re too affected by the drug to run far, even if you could make another attempt to get away.

Stacey and her mother are halfway across the bridge and you’re about to start over it. Then suddenly you notice a little button next to the drawbridge. It’s red and it’s got a sign on it saying DON’T PRESS. Of course you don’t hesitate. You press the button as hard as you can. After all, you figure, you can’t be worse off than you are already. Can you?