It was a gut punch that left me winded for years. After that, every time I got drunk with other students my mind wandered to Grandpa, dying alone in the lake house. So I gave up medical school. I didn’t want to be a doctor, I didn’t have it in me.

This time when I wake and see I have a text message from Claire, I get that same feeling, an uncomfortable fluttering in my stomach.

Watching you both on the morning show, it looks terrifying. I hope you are doing okay. Please get in touch if you need us.

Watching you both. Watching us do what? Cain, as usual, is already awake. I can hear him down in the kitchen. I roll out of bed, scratch the sleep from my eyes as I descend the stairs.

‘Cain, I think we are on the tele.’

‘What?’

I rush towards the lounge room, reach for the TV remote and turn it on. It’s the first thing we see on the screen. That same video Cain was watching.

‘And here she is, Lina Phillips as the assailant known to be Daniel Moore leaves the room going back up the stairs in the corner of the shot to her husband who is bound. Mrs Phillips contorts her body, as you can see in the imagery on your screen.’ Cain approaches, stands beside me. ‘She manages to lift the fireplace enough, which according to the manufacturer’s website weighs seventy-five kilograms, quite some feat. If we could just zoom in a little. There, see there is an inch gap for her to slide the other handcuff underneath. It’s incredible really, to have this vision into the night that shocked the nation, and sent a wave around the globe. I’ll remind viewers this is exclusive footage, not even my producers know the exact source of the images you are seeing right now other than an email address.’

Cain clears his throat. ‘How the fuck did this get to the media?’

A new voice adds to the conversation now. ‘It’s remarkable the strength Lina Phillips shows here. Given the earlier footage of her helping her highly inebriated husband inside and up the stairs, it’s clear that only one person was going to save her and that was herself.’

The screen dies. I turn to Cain, he’s still holding the remote tight in his fist.

‘What?’

‘I don’t want to hear it. It’s a beat-up. You’re the hero, we know that.’

‘Cain –’

‘It’s true. I’m glad, of course I am. But these people have half the story. I wasn’t drunk, I was drugged. And how did they get the footage?’

‘Probably the same way you did,’ I say. ‘Someone might have sent it to them anonymously.’

‘Or the police leaked it. I bet that’s what happened.’

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