I could hear someone quietly sobbing, and jolted when I realised it was me

“Are you nervous?” This was the question people kept asking me before the premiere of Asking For It, the stage adaptation of my novel of the same name, writes Louise O’Neill.

‘No’, I replied honestly. All I had to do was turn up on the night, looking fancy, thanks to my glam-squad of Deirdre Collins, Siobhan O’Mahony, and Eva Crowley. Before I left the Metropole hotel, the makeup artist jokingly warned me not to cry, as she applied another coat of liquid eyeliner, and I told her not to be silly. Why would I cry? I wrote the book. I know how the story ends.

I thought I knew. Oh, I thought I knew. But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw on that stage. The first act was a whirl of youthful energy and raw sexuality, cut through with an undercurrent of crackling tension. During the party scene, the music felt as if it was pulsating in my veins, my heart racing, and my throat closing up with dread.