‘Ok then bug, get on your knees and beg your goddesses for mercy. If you try hard enough then maybe, just maybe, we’ll give you a break.’

You ex-girlfriend slurred as she spoke, her face high above obscured by the curvature of her ass and the hot pants that contained it. She was still drunk from last night, a stale beer clutched in one hand and half a breakfast burrito held in the other.

The other half was suspended in the blue sky behind you, dangling from the slender fingers of her best friend. To you; both were equally massive, equally terrifying and equally drunk.

You knelt between them, their shadows shielding you from the hot morning sun. The summer had been a long one, the blistering days baking the ground hard and turning the grass to straw. Before you the wall of black denim briefly gave way to a flash of cream flesh before returning to the black fabric of a thigh high sock that stretched for miles. Behind was another curving wall, denim blue jean.

A boulder of burrito filling crashed to your right, the mouth of their tent yawning massive behind them. To your left was an endless jungle of grass, dew shimmering in the fresh light of day. It beckoned you like a haven, an escape from the hell you had found yourself in.

On your knees you knew better.

Even if you could pass the yacht sized feet that rested at the end of the valley of legs, to compound your misfortune, last night it had rained for the first time in weeks and so turned the camp site into a swamp. Passage would be impossible, the mud trapping you until you either sank or were crushed underfoot by a careless passer-by.

Right now, you admitted, either was a real possibility.

You hadn’t even wanted to come to the festival and was happy to give your ticket away. A weekend alone was much more preferable than being stuck in the same space as your crazy ex and her equally psychotic BFF.

You had ended it with her only a week earlier; tired of her selfish behaviour, controlling personality, paranoia and mind games. The break-up had been, as you anticipated, messy. She had always had an issue with rage, even back when you first met in high school, and this had come to the fore following the news.

She had lashed out, made threats, made promises, made apologies. You had heard it all before, the accusations, the crying and the pleas to make up and do better. It never changed. Eventually she would return to her controlling ways, the drinking and the violence.

You wished you had ended it sooner.

Eventually your friends had persuaded you to join them, keeping on at you until finally you caved. It would be fine, they promised, there were thousands of people here. The festival would be fun, a chance to blow off steam after dealing with her for so long. You’d all be together in a group, there was no chance of running into her.

If only you had stuck to your guns.

You had no idea how she managed to find your camp amid the hundreds of similar looking tents.

She had been drunk, looking to hook up, to try and lure you back with make-up sex. You were alone, leaving early after drinking way too much whiskey and too little water in such hot weather. She had slipped into your tent unseen; finding you naked, asleep and an inch tall.

There could not have been a worse person to find you.