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I retch and gag continually at the pair of dirty socks stuffed in my mouth as Toby Sheridan manhandles me towards the bottom of the stairs. When we get there, he takes a huge handful of my hair and tries to drag me up the stairs by it.
I go to scream, but I can’t. It’s muffled by the socks.
I scrabble to my feet and try to walk myself up the stairs but I keep slipping, feeling an agonising jolt of my scalp tearing away from my skull every time I do so.
Eventually, we reach the top of the stairs and he drags me into a bedroom. He picks me up and throws me onto the wooden bed. I hear something snap — maybe a strut or leg from the bed. He looks around and goes through a couple of drawers, as if looking for something. Then he stands, appears to have an idea, grabs my arm and yanks me up
