Oh god, why are the panic attacks worse on less morphine? And why do they suddenly have to stop being about some nameless, faceless terror, and start being about my dad?

I can hear him coming in the back door, talking to my mum, opening the lounge door. I can feel him coming up the stairs to my room, opening the door, walking in. I can feel him touching me, forcing me to do things. My mouth. My throat is closing up and I want to hurl. I can't breathe. I'm shaking.

Christ, has this night not been bad enough? How much is one person supposed to bear?

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