The stench of the flat hit me the minute I opened the door and if I hadn't been close to passing out already, that would have done it alone.

To be fair, the closest I get to domesticity is paying my half of our cleaning lady, but between the two of us we're normally capable of keeping it hygienic on the in between days. Were capable. When we were together.

Apparently the depths of my heartbroken funk over the past three days were deeper than I realised. A colony of something foul had taken up residence in the kitchen and the layer of dust covering every surface was opaque. It was more than that though, a deep, musty air of neglect was almost palpable. What was the matter with me - how could I have let it get like this?

The contrast between Craig's swanky, shiny new place and our home was a bit too acute, so almost before I kicked off my shoes I launched into a cleaning frenzy. Wiping and sweeping and scrubbing like a madwoman actually helped to calm my thoughts. I'd love to be able to say that a blinding flash of clarity hit me as I wrung out yet another filthy cloth into the sink, but even calmer thoughts still didn't make a blind bit of sense.

What was it with that nurse shoving me out the door like that? Was it his first day and when he was told to discharge me that's how he thought it was done? Surely even first-day nurses know not to randomly tip patients into the car park. So maybe it was just a mistake. Maybe he'd been wheeling me along then was summoned to some super-duper emergency and forgot to put the brake back on? That could be it. Couldn't it?

When I was finally done I shoved the ancient windows up to let in a bit of fresh air, and headed out to the back close with the approximately seventeen zillion bin bags I'd amassed. It vaguely occurred to me, as I humphed them all down the stone steps, that they'd finally got around to re-plastering the back hallway and painting the door. It had been all cracked and peeling and riddled with cobwebs as long as we'd lived in this tenement. I had a vague recollection of something being pushed under the door about a residents' meeting to discuss organising redecoration. Clearly, whoever had called the meeting had been on a mission if the work was done already. Well, well done them.

I slung the bags over the wee gate into the big dumpster thingmies and froze as a wave of icy pins and needles washed over me. I suddenly felt the sensation of my hand connecting with flesh so real it was as though it was happening then. I clutched onto the freezing gate as terror scuttled up and down my back --

It was dark. Freezing. Though I was sweating the chill in the air bit at me; icy, ragged breaths caught in my throat as I ducked a flying blow, charged low, heard his grunt as I knocked him off balance --

Terror clutched at my throat, thudded in my ears --

Somewhere at the edge of my consciousness I could hear water lapping gently against rocks nearby.

He was big. Even in the dark I could sense him towering above me, could feel tough, sinewy muscles beneath my fingers as I scratched, bit, tore --

A low growl of pain, then an arm as thick as a treetrunk slammed into my face --

An explosion of pain like fireworks -- I tried to scream but I was winded, could only gasp painfully into an abyss --

Something soft brushed against my cheek, then everything went black.

Back in the flat I was dimly aware of my heart still thudding as I paced in front of the bay window, desperately wracking my brains as to what on earth the soft thing was. It was something familiar, something I had felt before, and there was a smell. A distinct smell that I knew but I couldn't place.

I slumped down on the couch with a deep sigh. Probably even if I could remember it wouldn't do much to help. I didn't fancy much ringing up the police to tell them to be on the lookout for somebody with something soft about his person. It wasn't likely, after all, that I'd stumbled across a violent furry or a zombie teddy bear. I closed my eyes and leaned back, realising with horror that tears of hopelessness were starting to prickle behind my eyes.

I hated that couch. Craig had marched out and bought it after I'd taken too long making up my mind between the two we were considering, and given that it was neither of them, now I thought about it I realised I'd never quite forgiven him. It was made of this weird denimy material that was presumably supposed to be fancy in some sort of hipster fashion, but was primarily lumpy and uncomfortable and forever bloody freezing no matter how high the heating was on.

I yanked my favourite throw off the back and wrapped myself up in it. It smelt a bit musty but not bad, considering. Promising I'd buy myself a new couch if my credit card seemed up to the challenge, I fell into a deep, deep sleep.

I don't know how long the hammering at my door had been going by the time it finally roused me, but it was full light. A soft, wintry sunshine streamed through the slats of the bamboo blinds. I must have been passed out for a good few hours. Sure enough, I felt a good bit more human as I ran to get the door.

It's funny how a decent sleep can put everything in perspective, isn't it? I'd bet that half the trippy weirdness of the night before was down to me being loopy on tiredness. I'd been mugged. Common or garden mugged. Ended up in hospital, was discharged a bit abruptly but I as clearly wasn't seriously hurt that was hardly unreasonable. Then my ex acted weird and was a bit of an arse, which was hardly beyond the realms of possibility.

Then I opened the door and the world turned on its head.