He stepped up onto his bed, reached up to me, grabbed me by the throat, and squeezed.

Five minutes later…

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh

… As I write this, I’m sitting in my new room, just over the hall, and am enjoying the peace, space and safety that it’s instantly brought me.

One of my biggest fears about having pressed the emergency intercom button was that I would be singled out in the hall as being a ‘grass’. But it seems that the only thing that’s considered worse than a grass, is a bully. Within minutes of moving into my new room, people started chapping on the door to check I was OK, or to tell me that the same thing had happened to them (and a series of people before me). And since I was expecting that it would take a broken nose to get me moved into a different room, I’m now feeling very relieved to have all my facial bones and cartilage intact.

As evening approached, I found myself longing for lock-up time to come, so that I could sit in my plastic chair in a room on my own in complete silence. So far this evening I have made a cup of tea, written a letter, and read the paper. Later I will watch a film that contains no blood or violence. Here, in my concrete box, I am free.