A SMALL PRICE TO PAY

Climbing into the back seat, I shut the car door behind me and smiled at my pals. ‘Let’s get some food!’ I said to my friends Bobbi, 25, and Jennifer, 26.

It was 14 March, and they had just picked me up from my Saturday shift at Morrisons.

‘Ooo what shall I have?’ I said, my stomach growling as we pulled into the Burger King car park.

Suddenly, I felt a painful sensation in the inner crease of my left arm.

‘Ouch… my arm feels really bruised,’ I said to the girls.

‘Did you hurt yourself at work?’ Bobbi asked.

‘Not that I can remember,’ I said, giving it a rub.

But it did feel as if I had – as if I’d knocked it.

Heading into the restaurant, I forgot all about the pain as I sipped on a vanilla milkshake.

But as the evening went on,