Guilt, Grief, Horror.

          I’m sick to the core, physically and at heart.

            I don’t know where I was when I woke this morning, but I can be sure that I wasn’t alone in that bed last night. I’ve got the photographic proof: I found a Polaroid stapled to a note by my side:

 

            “Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way? I’ll be watching. Don’t go through with it.”

 

            I was handcuffed to the bed. I glanced around and found a key lying on the bed. I just about managed to unlock the cuffs with my spare hand and mouth in awkward combination.

           

            Then I sat, looking at that picture, paralysed with guilt, grief, horror. What the hell happened last night?