Inside his house of horror s

Annmarie Moran, 42, Merseyside

Gulping down yet another glass of wine, I felt the room start to spin.

‘I should go home,’ I slurred, pulling myself up clumsily from the bar stool.

‘Let me order you a cab,’ my friend called as

I staggered out.

But it was too late,

I was gone.

Letting the pub door slam shut behind me, I drunkenly zigzagged along the pavement.

It was December 2008, a few weeks before Christmas.

I’d spent the night in my local pub.

Anything to numb the grief that engulfed me.

A month earlier, my