He grabbed the bottle from the side of the bath and filled his glass again. He could see the bruises starting to form on his ribs, the bruises they had photographed with the UV camera and catalogued at the station. He felt unclean as a result of being treated like a suspect. He thought about all the people he had arrested in the past, especially the ones who maintained their innocence until they were put away. Having to have the inside of his mouth and his penis swabbed was humiliating, especially when it was a colleague who had to do it, a colleague who suspected you of rape, who treated you like a rapist. He drank.

Feeling somewhat soothed after getting out of the bath, on the outside at least, Adrian pulled out some comfortable clothes and decided to settle for the night in front of the TV with what was left of his bottle. He couldn’t help but think about what people must be saying about him. The idea of it turned his stomach.

He thought about the attack, whether it was something he was even capable of. He’d had one-night stands that were slightly rough, but nothing that hadn’t been invited first. He recalled his relationship with Denise Ferguson and how she liked him to put his hands around her throat. He hadn’t agreed at first; he’d made her promise him that she would let him know if he was squeezing too tight. The thought of doing that without her permission, with her struggling to get away, made him feel sick.

He had to distract himself from these thoughts. He needed to replace the image of himself hurting someone like that. He grabbed a box of beer from the fridge for when he ran out of whisky and took it into the front room.

The lounge still smelled of paint from where he had redecorated after his ex and son had sold all of his collectable toys to pay for a deposit on a flat. With every payday since Tom was born Adrian had bought some kind of collectable and over the last sixteen years they had increased in value. After Tom’s stepfather died and all his assets were seized, they sold all the toys and cards to put a deposit on a flat and now the house that had been overflowing with boxes was empty. They had spent the weekend painting together to make Adrian’s front room nice again and it was nice, it just didn’t feel much like home. It looked like he had been burgled by some painters and decorators.

He settled in and turned the TV on. There were a couple of shows he had been recommended, by people who probably hated him now, but hey, at least he had time to watch them.

He was awoken by a gentle knock at the door. He answered to see Imogen standing in front of him. She didn’t look particularly happy. He walked through to the lounge and she followed.