Drama

‘I promise you, ‘ she said, thrusting a finger at me, ‘you’re going to die.’ She was factually correct. I would, at some point, die. However, it wasn’t going to be because of her and it certainly wasn’t going to be soon. ‘I’ve been in touch with the Police, they think you are a criminal.’. She said, still thrusting, her face screwed into a mask of disgust. I didn’t believe her, there’s no way she went to the police, besides, what she didn’t know, is that I had already been to the police, I went to hand myself in. She’d got under my skin and made me believe that I was, in fact, a criminal. Turns out the police don’t agree, you can’t be a criminal if it’s between two consenting adults. I felt a bit stupid leaving the police station if I’m honest. But it was also a huge relief to know I wasn’t, in the eyes of John Q Law, a criminal (well, not about this anyway, the night I spent in Soho three years ago ended with marginally criminal activity, but there was no where open and I really needed to go). ...