David sat still. Dead still. Knowing that someone was watching.
His face was motionless apart from the occasional blink. Inside his mind, though, there were too many tabs open. Too many to keep track of.
He had become confused about his own feelings. Especially his feelings towards her.
He'd had misgivings from the beginning but pushed them aside. He was enjoying himself too much. She could go from one extreme of emotion to another in the space of a millisecond. The unpredictability excited and terrified him in equal measure.
He gripped the bench more tightly, trying to stop everything inside him from bursting through his chest. If he held on tightly enough, perhaps his mind would quieten.
He looked down at his feet.
He still had his slippers on.
That annoyed him.
When the police turned up at his door, the shock had thrown him. The normal, meticulous way he prepared to leave the flat had vanished. He hadn't even thought about his shoes.
They had asked for his phone.
He refused.
He knew the law.
His thoughts shifted to Malik. His ex-colleague. The root of his current predicament, he thought.
Why hadn't he seen it?
David had been seconded to the Special Branch with the hope of transferring permanently. He'd been told he was doing well. Over that year, he'd flagged several people as "persons of interest". He was observant. He picked up on the smallest details, things other people missed. His reports were meticulous.
Yet somehow he'd completely failed to notice how his own colleague hated him.
That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
They shared a car ride every morning. David played those journeys back in his head now, searching the conversations for something he'd missed. A comment. A look. A change in tone. Some sign that Malik had always hated him.
He found nothing.
Or perhaps he was in denial.
He didn't know anymore.
He should have come clean from the beginning, when Malik made the first accusation.
He had ended the short relationship with Fatima when her erratic behaviour became impossible to ignore.
Well, not ended it exactly.
He had become less warm towards her. Gradually. Preparing the ground.
It was complicated.
She had brought some of her family over. Her son and her sister. Somehow David felt responsible for them now as well. He couldn't simply walk away. At least, that was what he'd told himself.
Then, just as he was working out how best to handle the situation, the email appeared in his inbox.
Suspension pending an investigation into your conduct on duty on 30 June 2025.
He read it again.
The accuser was Malik.
Immediately, David knew he would need a statement from Fatima. She knew what had happened. She could tell them the truth.
He should have trusted his initial gut feeling.
Instead, he'd allowed himself to be drawn further into an emotional abyss that had eventually led him here.
Sitting in a cell.
Wearing slippers.
Trying not to show the slightest hint of vulnerability.
Fatima had turned against him.
Assault and coercive control were the accusations.
Strangely, the email contained much of the same language Malik had used in the first accusation.
David thought back to the night on the promenade.
They had gone for a drive and then got out of the car to walk. It was late. The promenade was almost empty.
By then he'd got the statement from her. He wanted to start creating some distance between them.
Fatima sensed it immediately.
He could feel the change in her mood.
She had attacked him before. Once she'd grabbed him by the neck and he'd restrained himself from retaliating.
He looked around.
There was a CCTV camera nearby.
David walked towards it, making sure they were directly underneath.
"We can get married now," she said.
"Actually, not yet. I'm not technically divorced."
"So we could enter into a common marriage and marry officially when the divorce is finalised."
David hesitated.
It was enough.
She moved towards him, hands raised, and tried to strike him.
He blocked the blow.
Right there.
In full view of the camera.
Outside the cell David could hear footsteps.
David lifted his head.
Someone was approaching his cell.
