There was a figure standing close to me beside the bed and the door was closed behind him. I had locked the door before I went to bed.

First the hand settled on my wrist for a moment, holding it softly, then harder, then pinning it down. When I stirred and tried to sit up he held my shoulder. He whispered something I didn't understand. I scratched his hands with my nails. I could smell beer on his breath when he put his mouth near mine.

It was a while before I began to shout, I don't know why I waited. He moved back for a moment as though startled but it did not put him off. He was almost on top of me. I tried to scratch his ears and his face. I shouted 'go away' as loudly as I could over and over.

I was almost free of him and standing on the floor in my night-dress but he still had a firm grip on my wrist. From his voice I could tell he was thirty, maybe forty, but no more than that. I was still shouting 'go away' and I could sense he was becoming afraid, and that scared me even more because I was worried about what he would do to me before he left- that he would try to hit me or hurt me.

I managed to open the door with my free hand. He tried to pull me back in but I shouted out into the corridor. He let me go and I ran down the corridor. I don't know how but I was still calm enough and clear enough in my mind

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