She bullied me for years and, to this day shows up in my dreams from time to time. It seemed that tonight was one of those times. I guess it’s a sign of how far I’ve come that she no longer makes a nightmare: I know her wrath cannot hurt me any more.

She was standing in front of me, in the courtyard of a strange, old building I’d never seen before. She held Jazzi, my little kid sister, tightly by the wrist. Wet-faced and wailing, Jazzi thrashed and struggled but simply could not break the grasp of the older girl. Fuelled by rage, however, I could.

I grabbed Jazzi and we ran through a crumbling doorway into the unfamiliar corridors beyond, turning randomly to confuse the pursuit, we found ourselves quite at a loss as to how to return to where we’d started or, indeed, find where we had originally been heading. It’s possible they were the same place.