The alarm trilled shrilly in my ear, sounding less like an alarm clock and more like an air raid siren alerting me to danger.
Run! Take shelter!
I wished there was somewhere I could run to. I felt trapped, cornered and every minute I waited for the attack that I was sure was inevitable. I had spent the past week living in a self-imposed Hell, sensing my deterioration more every day and alternating between sheer undiluted panic and feeling numb.
That night, after Harper had left, I sat in my car for some time, feeling nothing but this awful emptiness. I had parked in a bus stop lay-by, having dropped him off along the high street. Staring out the window, I had watched as cars sped past, headlights all a blur and the noise of the traffic muffled, as if someone had flicked the volume down
