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My head hurt, my tongue was fuzzy, but most of all I felt cold. And wet. And…dirty.What a hangover. I tried to open my eyes, but even that hurt. It had been a long time since I had been this bad.How much did I drink last night?I couldn’t remember. I reached one hand out to grab my phone from the bedside table, but only touched…hard concrete. What the fuck? I opened my eyes with some effort, and the sun filtering through London clouds felt blinding.
I was laying in an alleyway, my shirt jacket covered in mud and gunk. My mouth felt dry and fuzzy. I’d been drunk plenty of times before, but this time I felt really, really fucked. How was it possible I hadn’t even made it back to the flat?
I got to my feet, and almost fainted. Dark spots danced in front of my eyes as my heart struggled to pump blood to my head. I braced myself against a the rough brick wall at the side ofthe alley and searched my pockets for my phone with the other. It was gone, as well as my wallet and keys. I cast tired eyes across the dirty ground but couldn’t see where they had gone.Shit.I stumbled forwards, still bracing myself against the wall to get to the main street. One side of my stomach was in real pain, like I’d fallen directly onto it.
As I had thought, the alleyway was just down the road from the club. Had I tried to drunkenly walk home and had my stuff stolen after I fell asleep in the alley? Surely not.
And then it hit me. I remembered being on my second drink, the thirst I had, the need to drink more, and falling to the floor. The three gleeful faces looking down at me as I lay there helpless. I stopped the sob even as it reached my throat.Stay strong,I thought. It was easier thought than done.
My best friend Owen lived just a couple of streets away in a flat-share, so I stumbled along the main street towards the block where he lived. I could see the way that people were staring at me. “Walk of shame, is it mate?” one builder called and laughed. I ignored him and walked on. Every time it felt like my throat was about to close up, or my eyes started to prick with tears I stopped for a second and took deep breaths. It had been months since I had an anxiety attack, and I didn’t intend to start now.
I made it to the swanky building in which Owen lived and rang the intercom. It took a minute before his crackly voice replied.
“Hey, who is it?” he asked.
“It’s me. It’s James.”
“Bloody hell, what are you doing up at eight am? Thought you’d be out last night.”
“I was…it’s hard to explain. Can I come up?” I waited for a second and the door clicked. I pushed it open and headed straight for the lift. A woman walked into the lobby behind me,took one look at me in the lift and took a step back. I gave her a weak smile as the doors closed between us.
The liftdingedas it got to Owen’s floor. I realised my shoes were making muddy prints on the carpet just a little bit too late, and knocked on his door. When he opened it, his eyes widened.. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said as he closed the door behind me. “I think…” I hesitated for a second before continuing. “I think I got spiked. They’ve taken my wallet, house keys, phone. I don’t have any way to get home.”
“You shouldn’t want to go home,” he said. “If they have your wallet, they have your address. They have your keys to get in, they can just…” he tailed off as he saw the look of dawning horror on my face.
Crap. I genuinely hadn’t thought of that, thought much of anything.
“Can I at least use your shower?” I asked.
“Nope. C’mon.” Owen was already getting his coat on, grabbed his own keys and wallet from the side. “We’re going out.”
“I can’t go back out looking like this!” I said. Owen just ignored me. He opened the door and gestured with his head for me to follow, so I did.
“We’re taking you to A&E, and I’m calling the police on the way. You need to get checked over, and you need to give a statement.”
My mind froze up a bit then - what had started as a night out to get over the stress of Saturday working had turned into an absolute nightmare.
I was aware, but didn’t say or do anything as Owen took my arm and led me to the lift. Out into the street. Into a crowded Tube train, where people kept as much distance as they could from me. Off the train, and towardsCity of London Accidentand Emergency. I let him guide me up the steps and into a busy waiting room, and watched as he argued with the receptionist. He needn’t have bothered — the second I walked up to see if I could do anything to help, she took one look at me and called one of the nurses. I was led to a quiet space, away from everyone else and a curtain drawn around the hospital bed.
“James.” I looked up at Owen as he said my name, but it didn’t quite register. “James, you in there?” I nodded. “James, seriously. This is Detective Inspector Butt.”
I giggled slightly at the name, and that snapped me from my stupor. “Sorry,” I said. “Hello.”
Detective Butt was a stern looking man, probably in his early forties at the latest. He looked down at me with some pity and took out a pen and pad.
“Your friend tells me you think you were spiked and robbed. Could you please tell me the whole story?”
I relayed it as best I could. Owen took a seat next to me on the bed and rubbed little circles on my back whenever I felt like I was getting overwhelmed. I finally finished the story by talking about how I’d woken up in the alleyway when PC Butt frowned.
“Thank you,” he said. “I don’t want to panic you, but this isn’t the first story we’ve heard like this. We were warned by other police forces that something like this might happen. There have been a series of spiking and mugging incidents from Swansea all the way up to Northumbria, and a couple of them have had attackers that match the description you gave.”
“Shit.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Quite. Now, I’m going to ask a few things of you. We’ll need a sample of your urine to test for drugs - if you’ve got anything else in your system, now is the time to say. You won’t be in any trouble, it just helps us to rule out any other kind of drug causing this.”
