Mickey sat with Jasmine in the underpass, her words I wanna make a statement still echoing in his ears. He squeezed her hand.

"I do have some idea what you're going through," he said, before he could stop himself.

"Yeah?" She clearly didn't believe him.

"Yeah." He settled back against the wall. "Something happened to me, seven years ago. It weren't as bad as what happened to you, but…"

"What?" She stared at him, her expression changing to one of concern.

"There was this bloke." He could hear his own voice like it was someone else speaking. "I chased him into this warehouse. He knocked me out, tied me up and—"

He didn't have to finish the sentence.

"Did you report him?" she asked.

"Yeah. He went to jail. He's still there. He did other things, too," he hastened to add. "He killed someone."

"What was it like, reporting it?"

"It was hard," he said honestly. "But I'm glad I did. If there's anything you need to know, any questions you wanna ask me…"

"Will you be the one, who takes my statement?"

"If you want me to." She nodded. "There'll have to be someone else there, too. Smithy maybe, or I can get a woman…"

"Smithy's okay."

"Yeah, he's alright."

They sat quietly, Mickey still holding her hand. "Will I ever feel normal again?" she asked.

He thought about this. "It changes you. But you can still have a good life."

"But I won't be normal." Her voice broke.

"You are normal." Mickey leaned forward. "They're the ones who ain't normal. They're nothing. You're brilliant, Jas."

"You're just saying that so I'll report them."

"No. You can still change your mind. It's your decision. You'll still be brilliant."

She pulled her hand away and pushed herself up. For a moment he thought she was going to walk away from him, but then she held out her hand to him.

"Let's go."