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Break the window. Yes, break the window. I look in the bathroom cupboard for something strong enough to do it with. Nothing but plastic bottles. I walk back out and look through the room for something, anything. God, why didn’t I pay attention when I watched McGuiyver all those years ago? There is a plant in the corner in a ceramic pot. I remove the plastic pot from the ceramic one and pick up the heavy pottery piece. I go back to the bed and take a run up and throw it at the window but my arm hampers my throw and it hits the window sill and bounces off. I pick it up again and the door opens.
“What are you doing?” a huge man growls as he grabs my arm. I cower away from him, unsure of his intentions.
“What do you want?” I cry.
“I want you to shut your stupid mouth,” he sneers.
“Help!” I scream as loud as I can over his shoulder into the house. “Help me!”
He raises his hand and hits me hard across the face and I fall to the floor and then he kicks me in my stomach and I scream in pain.
“Scream again and I will fucking kill you,” he growls as he picks my head up by the hair and slams my head against the ground.
I see the side vision of the door shutting behind him and the sound of it locking.
Tears roll down my face sideways to the floor. “Help me,” I whisper through my pain. “Joshua, help me.”
Joshua
I sit at the table next to Arthur, my lawyer, and opposite two police officers.
One policeman places two vials in a ziplock plastic bag onto the table in front of us. “Can you explain this, Mr Stanton? Can I call you Joshua?”
My eyes narrow at the vial. “What is it?” I ask.
“You tell me,” he says flatly.
I shake my head. “I’m not playing fucking charades. What is it?” I snap.
“Rohypnol,” he says matter-of-factly.
I frown.
“We found eight vials of it at your property Willowvale,” the policeman continues.
My eyes meet Arthur’s and I shake my head.
“I don’t know how they got there,” I reply.
“Course you don’t, that’s why your fingerprints are all over them.” He fakes a smile.
“This is preposterous,” demands Arthur. “He was drugged himself.”
“Did you murder Miss Marx and then take Rohypnol to cover your crime, Joshua?” the policeman sneers.
I screw up my face. “No, I did not.”
“Tell me about the prostitute in Australia who was murdered,” the policeman asks as he sits back in his chair.
Arthur frowns at me in question.
Fuck. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I was being blackmailed by a prostitute. She had footage of me and her having sex and was threatening to go public. She was blackmailing many men and apparently one of them got sick of it and she was murdered. I don’t know much about it,” I reply.
Arthur rubs his face in frustration. He didn’t know that before now.
The policeman cocks his head to one side. “Like you know nothing about the Rohypnol in your house.”
I screw up my face. “It’s obviously been planted there. You can’t be that stupid,” I snap.
