Next day I met with my mother’s friend and, after all the introductions, I sat down on a leather lazy sofa with fluffy cushions which made me very comfortable and at ease. I was here to untangle my life and get rid of this string attached to my ribcage.

“Haley, I want you to forget about your present surroundings,” Dr Hall said. “And pretend that it is me. I am your past, the person who you feel is to blame for this phase you are going through now and experiencing.”

I took a deep breath before allowing myself to return to the dark place that took my soul.

There he was, my devil, waiting for me. He always was, sitting there in the darkness, knowing I’d return. But this time I spoke to him. “It all started when you made remarks about me leaving my family for you.”

He grinned.

“In a jokey way I said yes, only to find that you were serious. You gladly ripped me away from them. I was in love, so where you went – I’d go.

“I missed out on a lot from my family, so much that we’ve become strangers. But what you don’t know was that my mother whispered in my ear while I was giving her a hug, before you came ripping me out of her arms.

“She said, ‘My child, come home. If you feel unsafe and need me, I will be here. Just come home.’

“Home is where my mother bottled me since I was an infant. And until this day, she fed me with love.

“I remember the time I used to fight over you. I would bleed and you would just laugh and chase me away. I doctored my wounds and would sleep in your cold bed for days after and you would return home apologising, giving me your sad and sob story about your father never loving your mother. ‘It’s in my blood,’ you would say, ‘and I hate him for giving me such awful heritage.’ While you looked at me with a sad face. ‘I will change for you, for us. Baby, please,’ you would continue with your puppy dog face and cry your eyes out on my lap.

You lied. You did it again and again and again after that.

The other day I cut my finger with a knife and my mother wanted to nurse me, but I ran off and made a big fuss. Every time she saw my blood and wanted to help, I just turned away.

But not today. Today I found the courage.

Because of you my mother needs to wear gloves to clean my wounds. I have HIV. Because of you I am shy to go to the clinic and wait till everyone is done and use the back door. I am pale. I am thin. I am not me, because of you…!”

The screaming startled me out of my speech.

I blinked. It was me screaming as I clutched the psychologist’s hand, my nails pierced through her skin.

Not the devil. A doctor. My doctor. Or was.

I gathered my stuff.

“I am sorry. I need to go.”

“No wait it is fine, come back you still have half an hour!”

But I kept walking.