She was so stressed. Like incredibly, immensely stressed. Lying in bed she knew she would quite happily have taken a nightmare over what had just happened in reality. She had never felt so uncomfortable in all of her life!
Sitting up, she shook her head and made her way downstairs. She felt sick. And it wasn't the one vodka and coke she had sipped slowly throughout the night. It was the person who had tried it on with her relentlessly for the past half an hour; ignoring her ever-increasing protests and continuous repetition of the word 'no'. The image of her shifting across the sofa, further and further away from the person who was causing her this discomfort, until she was practically backed up against the wall, would have been comical, if it hadn't been her in the situation!
The person had been trying to touch her knee and stroke her face and she had recoiled at the touch. She was very Christian Grey-esque in that sense; she hated being touched. Only one person was allowed to touch her like that. And my God, she wanted to see that person so much right now. Instead, she had to settle with the second-best option; pouring the milk into a tall mug she sat down at the kitchen table and sipped the hot, comforting tea.
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