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Was that a dream?
My eyes dart around nervously. What the fuck? The carpeted room is huge and luxurious, with a king bed and bedside tables. On the far wall opposite the beds are six televisions hanging mounted from the ceiling and under that a small table for two and two highback chairs. I bring my hand up to wipe my
hair from my face and see that my right wrist has a large bandage around it. What happened?
“Joshua?” I call.
I stand and slowly walk to the doorway to the right of the room and open it: a large bathroom complete with marble bath and shower. Where am I?
More urgently I walk to the large black door on the other side of the room and turn the knob.
It’s locked. I jiggle the handle as I try to open the door. Panic sets in and I bang on the door.
“Hello,” I call. “What’s happening? The door is locked,” I yell.
“Joshua,” I yell. “Ben.”
No reply. Silence.
I walk back to the bathroom with my heart pumping hard. What’s going on? Where am I? Where the hell is Joshua?
I look around the room nervously for my handbag. That’s right, I left it at the wedding. Huh? I was on the boat. I sit on the edge of the bed while I go over the last thing I remember. We went to the wedding. The text. Max. My eyes widen and then we went to the boat and went to sleep. I frown. I don’t understand. I stand and walk to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I look like shit and what am I wearing? I look down at the black nightgown I am in. I don’t own this.
What the hell is going on?
I start to bang on the door frantically. “Hello. Is anybody there?” I scream. I start to panic. Where am I? Where is Joshua?
“Ben,” I yell. “Where are you?”
I listen for an answer.
“Cameron,” I scream.
Silence.
The televisions all come on at once. No sound. Just vision. I drop to the bed at what is unfolding in front of me. News channels, every one of them has a different channel. I frown as I try to make sense of this. I walk around the room once more and notice on one of the bedside tables a basket with six television remotes in it.
Huh? This is bizarre. I pick up one of the remotes and point it at the televisions to change the sound and the volume on one of the televisions goes up slowly. I try to change the channel but it doesn’t work, just the volume.
I’m lost. I have no frigging idea what is going on. With the news playing in the background I go into the bathroom and look in the bathroom cupboards. Hair products, face creams, moisturiser, tampons and pads. I slam the door shut in shock and storm back into the bedroom and swing open the wardrobe cupboards. Clothes, underwear, pyjamas. Whose bedroom am I in?
The television sounds.
Now to breaking news. Joshua Stanton’s wife Natasha has gone missing from his luxury liner moored in the bay overnight. Mr Stanton awoke to find Natasha missing and the boat covered in blood. Just whose blood still remains a mystery.
My eyes widen in horror. What?
The footage goes to an aerial shot from a chopper, of divers searching the water around the boat. Ben, Max and the bodyguards are on the shoreline talking to police. Television cameras and reporters are everywhere. Oh my god, what the fuck is going on?
Joshua Stanton is apparently so distraught he has been taken against his will to County Hospital where concerned family members are by his bedside. Police are still unsure exactly what unfolded here but eyewitnesses report that the Stantons were last night involved in what appears to be a very public domestic dispute over Natasha’s affair with her bodyguard.
Oh no. My hand goes over my mouth. Oh my god. I stand and start to pace. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. I hold my hands together as if to pray. Joshua, oh my darling. I’m ok. I’m ok. My fury ignites and I start to pound on the door.
“What do you want?” I scream.
“Name the price, asshole,” I yell. I pound on the door with all my might. The vision goes to the news story of us on another channel and I quickly run for the remotes and start picking them all up and aiming them at the television showing that story to work out which remote works with it. I finally find the right one and I turn it up. It shows the aerial vision of the boat again and then it goes to vision from the night before and footage from someone’s phone of Joshua and me fighting in the carpark. My stomach drops.
Joshua—did they hurt Joshua and that’s why he’s in the hospital? I start to bang on the door and then I run to the window. I am on a farm, paddocks as far as I see. No neighbours. I try to open the window but I can’t budge it. I start to cry in frustration as I struggle with the heavy window. Oww, my arm is hurting. What happened to my arm anyway? I slowly unwrap the bandage and gasp when I see the huge cut across my wrist with large black stitches. God, it’s a bad job. My tears of fear start to fall. Whoever cut my arm didn’t care if I bled to death as that’s a main artery. With shaking legs I walk into the bathroom and close the door. I throw down the lid and sit on the toilet. What do I do? For fifteen minutes I sit, frozen with fear.
