The sear is almost overwhelming now. I rise on shaking legs and fumble for my camera before it can be bounced off the bed. As I pick it up I inadvertently press a button. I hear an electronic whir that tells me it is about to spring to life and before I can react it has found its auto settings, sparking the flash so that it goes off in series, like the slow strobe Thunderhed use on stage when they play their anthem Pile Driver. Before I can switch it off I see so many dirty, ghostly glimpses of him slamming hard into her. Each vision will be seared into my mind. I sneak away, my red backside poking shamefully out of tattered stockings, and limp back to my room. I know I will have to sleep on my front tonight, but then I also know I won’t be going to sleep for quite some time.
