somewhat inebriated state. He must have been to the pub prior to his drinking sessions at home because it took him a while to find his balance and come into the kitchen to ask me what I was doing.

He stood there swaying in the doorframe of the kitchen and lounge. I could feel him staring at me intensely at the back of my head, but he just stood there, saying nothing. Eventually he spoke, or should I say shouted. I hadn’t seen this side of him before, but the words coming out of his mouth were just pure filth. He continued his tirade of abuse at me till eventually he began twisting and pinching his fingers into my forearm. At first it stung, of course it did. But the intensity got worse as he continued his harsh physical force into my arms. This time I yelped and as I did so, he grabbed the back of my ponytail and