“Are you going to be okay here?” Kieran asked, eying the security of my door with some scepticism.

“I’ll be fine, thanks. There are about five locks behind my door.”

I paused as I contemplated what to say. Fuck it.

“Is O’Connell all right? Will you take care of him?”

I spoke so fast that I wasn’t even sure he’d heard the question. He smiled at me, like he was pleased that I cared.

“He’ll be fine. He just needs to blow off some steam. Don’t worry, Em. I’ll make sure he’s good.”

Of course, he’d be okay, and now Kieran was probably laughing his arse off at my concern over a giant of a man who trained to hurt people.

“You just make sure that you lock this door good and tight behind me, and I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

I frowned but nodded. He waited on the top of the stairs for me to shut the door and throw the locks before I heard him descend. Knowing that I was too keyed up to sleep, I took a hot shower and dried my hair before throwing on a pair of yoga pants and a vest top. I’d piled as many blankets and throws on my bed as I could, and diving under the covers, I shivered as I waited for the cold sheets to warm up around me. It was pointless to turn on the heater. By the time the piece of crap warmed up, I would be ready to go to sleep, and I couldn’t afford to run it all night. The low after my earlier lust-filled adrenaline rush had hit, and the lure of sleep beckoned. Knowing that I could never fulfil the sexual fantasies of my own making, I surrendered to it.

THE SERIES OF LOUD BANGS at my front door had me bolt upright and out of bed in seconds. My heart beat like a jackhammer as I approached it, knowing that if it were Frank, I’d have seconds to dress and grab my emergency backpack before escaping through the window. I looked through the spy hole to see O’Connell staring back at me. I had no clue what he was doing at my apartment, but I wasn’t going to find out on this side of the door. Taking a deep breath, I ran my hands though my hair in a futile attempt at bringing order to the chaos. As the next round of banging began, I opened the door.

“I missed you, sunshine,” O’Connell told me, with the kind of ridiculous, doe-eyed, sad face that a toddler would use to evoke sympathy.

“I can tell by the need you have to break down my door at...,” I grabbed his thick wrist to check the time on his watch and dropped it again just as quickly, “...three o’clock in the morning. Do I even want to know how you got through the main entrance door?”

He stood there looking stupid and sheepish.

“It wasn’t locked,” he slurred. I shivered involuntarily at the lapse in security and tried hard not to think about how easy it was to get to me. My illusion of safety was quickly evaporating.

“You know it’s a good thing I’m here to look after you. This is not a safe building, you know.”

“And do you have any suggestions as to where I could move that would be cheaper than this place?” I asked sarcastically.

“You could live with me,” he suggested hopefully.

I rolled my eyes at his ridiculousness. It would serve him right if I agreed, then waited until he woke up sober, with a raging hangover, before announcing my new found residency status as his housemate.

“Fuck me, O’Connell. Even off your face, you’re fast,” Kieran piped up from the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“He was already half baked when I found him, and I’ve been trying to keep him out of trouble all night. He had the bright idea that he wanted to say goodnight to you, and there was no talking him out of it. He sprinted up here as soon as we got in sight of your building.”

“Well, thanks for trying to help. Do you think you’ll be able to get him home on your own?”

Kieran looked over my shoulder and chuckled.

“Sorry, Em, but I don’t think that’s going to be an option.”

I turned around and sure enough there was O’Connell, passed out on the right side of my bed.

“Great. How the hell am I supposed to move him?”

Kieran rubbed the back of his neck, seeming to ponder the problem while he tried and failed to hold back a smile.

“Look, if you really don’t want him to crash in your bed, I can try and make up a pallet on the floor and move him there, but I won’t get him far. He’s out cold.”

I felt bad then. I wasn’t really selfish enough to roll him onto the floor. This place was so cold at night he’d probably wake up with hypothermia.

“It’s all right. Leave him there. I’ll think of something.”

“Thanks, Em. I’m off then, ‘cause no offense, but your place is kind of small, and I don’t feel like crashing on the floor.” He walked over to my desk and grabbed a pen and sticky note.

“Here’s my number. If you need me, just call, but if you let him sleep it off for a few hours, he’ll be fine.”

He closed the door with a wave, and I bolted each of the locks in turn.

“Well, I don’t have a phone, but the thought was there,” I muttered to no one in particular.

Although I’d already done it before I went to sleep, I ran through my security routine again, because the front door had been opened. By the time the adrenaline rush from my late night visitors had worn off, I was exhausted and freezing cold. I managed to get O’Connell’s boots off, but after that struggle, I gave up with the rest of his clothes. He’d probably be warmer with them on anyway. In the absence of any alternative, I pried the blankets from under him, which took some doing, and threw them over both of us. His body radiated heat and I curled up against his side, contemplating all the while how to pass the whole night without jumping him.

THE PAIN WAS SO EXCRUCIATING, it burned through the haze of sleep. I had no idea what was happening. Disorientated and confused, my pain receptors were screaming. I had literally been pulled from my bed, from sleep, by my hair. It must have been coming out in handfuls. Seemingly unimpressed with his progress, Frank stopped to wrap his hand around it, giving him a better grip, and then continued yanking me upwards with all his strength. Tears ran down my cheeks uncontrollably. I was helpless to do much of anything, except follow where he was leading. I could hear Mum whimpering in the next room so I knew he’d already warmed up. I’d like to say that he reeked of booze, but that would be a lie to excuse what he was doing. He was stone cold sober. Frank did what he did because he liked to hurt people, because he liked to hurt me. He was a monster, and alcohol had nothing to do with it. We’d reached the utility room off the kitchen when he let go of my hair and shoved me to the floor.