Mavis was locked in her flat again. She was not a trafficked woman, nor was she
the partner of a manipulative and cruel significant other.She could have left
the flat without even using a key. She had
the key if she needed it.

She wanted to take the dog to the park. The dog liked to walk and Mavis liked
the park; she liked the fresh air and the open space.

Mavis had cleaned the bathroom floor, washed her hands and dried them. She took
the towel and put it in the washing machine. She realised, with a lurch in her
stomach, that she had not taken a clean towel to the bathroom. She took one
from the cupboard and returned to the bathroom.

As she opened the door, the dog darted in. Mavis made a sound between a scream
and a groan. The dog cowered. Now she would have to clean the bathroom floor
again; wash her hands, already red and raw and cracked.