I nodded.
“And I’m also going to ask that we take your clothes so that we can test them for DNA or blood matches. I’ll take a couple of pictures of your injuries too.”
“Injuries?” I asked. PC Butt shared a significant look with Owen, who put one arm around me.
“Let’s get you to a shower room, shall we?” Owen said. “You can pee in a cup there and get your clothes off, then if it’s OK with PC Butt we’ll get you properly cleaned up.”
I nodded, and allowed Owen and a nurse to guide me down the hallway to the nearest shower room. It was old fashioned, with faded blue tiles and an old cream sink and porcelain shower tray. The nurse put a small plastic jar into Owen’s hand and left. Owen turned around to give me some privacy as I peed, then he helped me to get my jeans, shirt and jacket off. He gently folded them on the edge of the sink. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and recoiled.
There was mud caked into my hair and dirt all over my face. I could see that my lip had split, but somehow I hadn’t felt it through the fuzziness. One side of my jaw was swollen and blue. All down my side from my armpit to my boxers there were purplish bruises that mottled my skin.
“Oh my God.” I said quietly. People had done this to me?
“Oh my God,” Owen agreed. I wasn’t sure if he thought I wouldn’t hear him, he muttered it so quietly. “I’m just going to get PC Butt. Are you sure you’re OK with him coming in to take pictures of your injuries?”
I nodded mutely, not taking my eyes off myself in the mirror. I looked horrific, stood there in my boxers. Even through the bruises, I could see how ragged I looked anyway. I heard the door open and Owen let PC Butt into the room. I stood still as he used a phone to take photos of the injuries.
“Thank you,” said PC Butt after he had finished. “I’m sorry this happened to you, and we’ll do everything we can to bring the perpetrators to justice.”
I nodded. PC Butt grabbed the clothes from the sink and put them into an evidence bag, and exchange numbers with Owen. “I’m just going to get you some clothes. PC Butt says it’s OK to clean yourself up now, and then the doctors want to check you over for any breakages.”
Yet again, I nodded. I wondered of that’s all I was capable of doing at the moment.
Owen left the room and I allowed myself one last long look in the mirror. I looked a state, but then again, I felt like I hadn’t been looking my best for a long time. Constant work had taken its toll on me. I honestly couldn’t tell if one of my eyes was bruising or if it was just bags from early morning working and late night partying every single weekend.
I shucked off my boxers and turned on the shower. It let out a weak trickle of water, which I let warm up as much as it would before stepping underneath and doing my best to get the mud and grime off with cheap hotel shampoo. There were parts of my body more tender than I had realised and I hissed as I scrubbed gently at my ribs. The door opened and I instinctively cringed and covered myself.
“Relax, it’s only me and I’ve seen it all before.” Owen was carrying a bundle of what looked to be light-washed denim which he set on the sink and a towel which he held out to me as I stepped out of the shower. It was scratchy and thin, so I gave myself a quick once over with it then reached for my boxers and put them back on.
“Double denim? This isn’t the nineties,” I muttered as I took the clothes from the sink.
“There’s the James Evans we all know and love,” said Owen with a smile. “And yes, you’re right. It probably has been there since the nineties. It was in the hospital lost and found.”
I stopped myself from cringing as I put on the jeans and t-shirt, tying the matching denim jacket around my waist. They smelled and looked clean at least.
“You could rock that, you know.” Owen smiled and looked me up and down. I looked in the mirror more doubtfully and shrugged. It was better than a jacket covered in shit from a dirty London alley.
Owen led me from the shower room back to the bed, where PC Butt still stood alongside an elderly and kind looking doctor.
“I hear you’ve had quite the ordeal,” said the doctor. “Let me just look you over to check for concussion or breakages and you’ll be good to go.”
He checked my ribs, poking at them painfully but not unkindly, and shone lights into my eyes. I let him, but could feel myself slipping back into my shell slightly as the day caught up with me.
“I’m going to have to advise you to cancel all your cards and identification,” PC Butt said. “And if you can find somewhere to stay for a couple of days that would be ideal. As of now, your flat is accessible to the people who took your things and there are officers on their way there right now.”
I nodded mutely. What if they had already gotten to my flat? Ransacked the place? What would they have taken?
“You can stay with me for the night,” Owen said. “We’ll find you somewhere to stay in the morning.”
“I’ll be honest,” started PC Butt. “I’d advise you to get out of London altogether. You don’t know who’s around the corner at the moment, or what they might have discerned about you — your job, where you go to the gym, where you like to go for agood time. It’s not uncommon in violent theft or fraud cases for the perpetrators to come back for more information.”
“But-my job,-I-I don’t really have anywhere to go,” I stuttered.
“C’mon, mate,” said Owen. “Let’s get you back to mine. We’ll figure out what to do there.”
???
I sat in stunned silence, hoping Owen would crack into a grin after he told me what he had just said. His face stayed neutral, perhaps even pitying.
