From: Sophie Hannah, "Hurting Distance". 
         London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2015
=========================================



p.47:

[NP] My heart jolts as an impossible idea begins to take shape in my
mind. I try to push it down but it won't go away; it advances from the
shadows slowly, gradually, like a figure emerging from a dark cave.

[Later on page:]

[NP] I clutch the railings for support, feeling wrung out, as if this new
fear that has suddenly saturated me might dissolve my bones and muscles.


p.170:
[Narrator is being interviewed by the police]

[Police officer says:] "I know you wouldn't and didn't hurt Robert."
[NP] Relief washes over me, sinking into my tired bones. Thank God. I
want to ask if it was Juliet who hurt you, but there's been a power cut
in the part of the brain that controls my speech, and my mouth will not
open. [EP]

[Later on page:]

[NP] As soon as I'm alone, my mind goes blank. I ought to be
anticipating, preparing, but all I do is sit completely still while the
thin fabric of my consciousness stretches to cover the chasm between
this moment and the next. [EP]


p.312:

[NP] If I'm going to see him again, it shouldn't be on his territory. It
should be at a police station, in a line-up. Panic starts to chew at the
corners of my mind. This feels wrong.


p.313:

I shut my eyes and wait. Thinking is impossible. I try to point a
spotlight at my brain and find it empty.