Now.

This is more than guilt. These are more than illusions, conjured up by a mind, sick with remorse.

She comes and goes, day and night, no longer restricted by shadows and darkness, more palpable with each appearance. More vivid. Closer and closer to reality.

A breath on my neck drags me from my restless sleep. Still tucked into the corner of the room, knees still wrapped in my arms, I pick up the knife from the flagstone floor. So tired, I didn’t hear it drop.

‘Why are you scared, Daddy?’ she says, flickering with the sun as it passes through wind-swept leaves.

‘I’m not your Daddy,’ I tell her, crawling away. ‘Now please, just tell me what you want?’

‘You.’ Her head tilts at right angles to her body, s...

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