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My legs move in circles as I stare back at you. When I stretch down, I can just touch the rock shelf and I balance there.

‘I want it to be better,’ I say. ‘Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?’

‘That’s not what this is,’ you say. ‘This is insane.You’reinsane.’ Your eyes roll skyward.

‘You’re the insane one! You got ten years for what you did.’ ‘And I did my time!’ Your eyes are blazing. ‘Just let me the fuck go.’

‘No! You don’t get to decide that!’

My hand punches out at the bank. I find a fistful of mud and hurl it at you. You step back, avoiding it easily. I find another and hurl that too. You shake your head at me, curling your lip.

‘You almost killed me, and that isn’t enough for you?’

‘No!’

And it seems it’s not. I wade through the pool, then haul myself out fast. I stride towards you, not stopping for my clothes. Your eyes widen as I keep coming for you.

‘Jeez, Gemma! It’s a real shame, alright, what I did to make you crazy like this, but I can’t go back, can’t make anything better…’

I shove the palms of my hands hard into your chest, pushing you backwards. I have no words that make sense, and I want to scream. Because this isn’t enough. You aren’t enough. You are meant to make everything better, but I feel worse. I am worse.

‘You ruined me more than I ever ruined you!’ I shout.

You grab me at the wrists, and I wait for you to twist my arms. Wet and naked, I have no defence. Your eyes bore into my face, but they do not roam across me. You look confused.

‘You ruined me too,’ you say. ‘How d’you think I can go back to Perth now? How d’you think I can do anything? You’ve fucked it.’

‘You don’t go back to Perth,’ I say, sliding my wrists in your hands. ‘You just do this. You let me decide.’

‘And then? What you want is a fantasy.’

You release me, and I want to spit at you. You, the great fantasist! You, who never wanted us to grow up out here! You, who pretended you were different! You, the fake.

‘You took everything!’ I shout. ‘My life, my relationships, my mind! Sometimes I feel I am nothing apart from you!’

You open your arms wide, walking backwards. ‘And what can I do now to give it back? What the hell can I do to make anything better?’

‘You can apologise like you mean it!’

You laugh, mouth open, your teeth white and lovely. ‘Okay, Gem,’ you say. ‘I’m sorry. There. That do it? You happy now?’

As if you’d just forgotten to post a letter, or water the plants. As if it were so easy.

I shake my head. ‘Like you mean it,’ I repeat.

You sigh. After a moment, you get down on your knees and look up at me. ‘I am sorry, Gem,’ you say, quieter now.

I wait for the words to sink in. I wait to feel better. To be better. I wait to be more me and less you. I wait to be…different. And even though I can see something more honest in your eyes this time, your smile is still mocking. I thought I wanted you to squirm, grovel. I thought I wanted to be the one in control. But I’ve tried everything and I still feel so unsatisfied.

You get up off your knees.

‘You don’t need me, Gemma,’ you say. ‘You need the opposite of me. And thanks, you know, for fucking up my life too, making everything worse.’

You turn and leave me.

I wait inside the rocks, alone, for a long time.

You’re lying across the bed, still damp from the pool, as I crawl up next to you.

‘This is how you ruined me,’ I say. And I tell you about the men, and how I lost myself even more. ‘I tried them out. Or they tried me. People called me a slut, but I never felt like I was the one using anyone.’

I talk fast, half of me not caring if you’re listening, the other half desperate for you to stay beside me.

‘I looked up the definition of slut,’ I say. ‘A woman with many sexual partners but no emotional involvement. But it never felt unemotional to me. You made sure of that. You took away any ability I’d ever have of being normal with men. With anyone.’

I remember what Nick said that last night:You can’t love, you can’t do it. You’ve lost whatever it takes.But you were the one who drugged me with fantasy, who made me perpetually unsatisfied, never able to appreciate reality.

‘I can’t love since you,’ I say. ‘That’s how you ruined me.’

You don’t say anything. Eventually, you move your arm across the mattress towards me and keep it there, next to me but not touching. At some point, we sleep.