35 Saturday 15 February
The first thing I register as I wake up is the disgusting taste in my mouth. I can only imagine this is what it must be like to lick a badger’s arse.
The second is the indescribable throbbing — banging — of my head. It pierces through my skull and down the back of my neck like nothing I’ve ever felt before. There’s absolutely no way in hell those vodkas and Cokes were singles. They must have at least been doubles, if not triples. But Tom said he—
Tom. My eyes fly open as I remember last night. The fight. He left. I roll my head to the side, wincing as I do so, to see Tom’s side of the bed is empty. It hasn’t been slept in.
Some bits are as clear as day, and others are hazy. We got home. I was being flirty, he pinned me up against the wall, he walked out, I made
