Daughters.

A recurring nightmare. Bits and pieces swim around in my mind as I struggle to recall the details, but the big picture is clear - I am running. Running away. From him. Trapped. Taken. Then, when nobody is paying attention, I break away and run. Run till my lungs beg for mercy, run till my feet lift off the ground. Fear and dread, like lightning running through my veins. Into the train. Meandering through the crowd, strange faces - none willing to help me - hoping nobody would recognise me. Has he caught up with me? Is he behind me? What will he do to me if he catches me? Complete terror engulfs me, the same way a bonfire licks the firewood. Run. Run faster. Run faster.

My eyes snap wide open. A pounding jackhammer in my chest. A thin film of perspiration veils my face. I sit up in bed, gasping for breath.

More than 10 years on, even when he's not around anymore, I'm still running.

My own flesh and blood.