Yes

Tentatively touching the door knob, her heart racing and breath hanging in the air, she turned it slowly in her hand then pushed slightly as the door gave way and began to open silently. "Oh fuck." She whispered, her stomach turning itself into knots as she peered into the darkness beyond the door and tried to take a deep breath.

Knowing she had to move, she had to get away. Sarah looked over her shoulder at the room, the light from the candles beginning to dim ever more so, until she stood up and then pushed the door open some more.

Whispering "No" she felt the room suddenly shift and instead of being in the cold, dark and damp underground tomb, she was suddenly surrounded by the olive green colours of the hospital corridors and stood outside ward 24 in another one of her dreamlike states.

Shaking her head no and trying to take a step back, she was **** through, like an unrelenting hand that seemed to push and guide her effortlessly forwards and into the room. Breathing heavy, stomach cramping and her right leg involuntarily shaking, it always happened the same way.

"Flare-ups or otherwise known as episodes." Dr Hopkins voice spoke inside her head. "The medication should help you deal with these, they are designed to help alleviate your anxiety Sarah. And they should help reduce the frequency of traumatic experiences or the effect this has had on you." His warm and soothing voice echoed, but no matter how charming he was and no matter how she would replay that conversation in her head, no matter what she done, guarding with her hands in front of her face, hiding her eyes or imagining the experience any different. Her face felt awash with gummy, slavering spit, the words "Little nibble." always sounding out the loudest in her head and the grabbing, she was brought back to feel weak, useless and used.