‘Would you like to explain to me why you were hiding in my wardrobe?’ he asks, still not changing his position on the bed. It’s like he’s trying to pretend he’s not bothered by me being here, the tone of his voice is enough to send a shiver racing up my spine.

I squirm in my seat. There must be a camera in here somewhere, or perhaps there’s one outside in the hallway. He must’ve seen me come in, that’s why he marched over here with such purpose. He already knew I was here. But there’s nothing that looks like it could be a camera. Why didn’t I think of that before I came in?

‘I don’t know, I . . . I sort of made an impulsive decision,’ I reply. ‘I’m sorry, Oliver. I really am.’

‘OK, it’s just, by you hiding like that in the wardrobe, well, it implies you were snooping around, and I must tell you, Grace, no one comes into my room uninvited. No one.’

There it is a slight hint of anger to his voice. I shudder. ‘I’m sorry, I thought I.’ Think, think, think. ‘I wanted to see if perhaps you had any more items that belonged to my parents.’

Oliver stares at me, his chest rising and falling. ‘You do realise you could’ve asked me, Grace.’

That name again. He must’ve noticed the reaction in my face when he first suggested changing my name. My name’s Danielle. I don’t care if Grace was the name my parents gave me; I barely have any memories of anyone calling me Grace.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I just.’ The tears come at the right time. I allow them to flow.

Oliver sighs. ‘It seems you still don’t trust me. You need to understand, Grace, we have your best interests at heart here.'

‘I do trust you, Oliver, it’s just.’ Please don’t let my expressions betray me. Not now. ‘You don’t know how it made me feel when you gave me Mum’s diary and her dress; I’ve never owned anything that belonged to them.’

‘I’m sorry, Grace, but that’s all I have that belonged to your family. I don’t encourage members here to keep material goods. Material goods aren’t needed in this world for us to survive. In fact, I believe the world would be a much better place without them, don’t you think?’

Except you have a television, Wi-Fi and God knows what else in your room, I want to say. He’s staring at me, expecting my answer. ‘Um, yes,’ I reply.

‘I’m glad you agree,’ he says. He rubs the bridge of his nose. ‘Why don’t you get some rest, Grace? I can see you’re still upset after what happened yesterday. We won’t speak of this again, but if you are found to be in here at any future date, I’m afraid I will have to punish you. Is that understood?’

Punish me. His words taunt me at the back of my mind. I feel like I’m a child who’s been told to go and sit on the naughty step.

‘Yes, I understand.’ I resist the urge to bite my lip. I want to get out of here.

‘Go on, I’ll speak to you later,’ he eventually says, making my body sigh with relief.

I dive out of the room, wiping my eyes as I step back out into the hallway. No one’s ever been able to put the fear of God in me like the way Oliver just has, not Emma or Michael, or any of my teachers. The only time I felt fear anywhere close, was fifteen years ago when I was back in the wardrobe, and Harvey was downstairs killing my parents. I yank open my bedroom door, slam it shut and dive onto my bed, burying my face in the pillows.