Trapped!  part 2 (750 words)

 
You fall asleep again and dream of shouting and shattering glass and a police helicopter circling the area, getting closer. And you dream about the bloke at the party. The one with the long tangled grey hair and earrings. Just before you crashed out, the gorgeous woman gave you a description of the man you fought in the early hours of the morning and the description matches your memories of the bloke that provoked the guests at Simon’s party. So he must have taken the same Night Bus as you and noticed you as you got off, provoking you into a fight further down the street.
The woman’s scrolling through websites on her phone, seeking out legal information. She still hasn’t given you her name, saying she doesn’t want to give out personal information or get involved directly in any police investigation.
‘Self-defence requires a basic duty of care after the event,’ she says as she reads through one of the legal websites. ‘At the very least we should have called 999 and requested an ambulance for the man once we were out of danger. The law requires that.’
‘And it’s too late to report it now?’
‘I don’t know. It might be. Look, you’re in no fit state for work tomorrow. You will need to email work and take a sickie. Tell them you’ve come down with food poisoning.’

She makes you a spot of lunch, insisting that you should at least try to eat. You take sips of black tea and attempt a slice of burnt toast, abandoning it after a few bites. Pushing the toast aside,  you email work to inform them you’ve come down with food poisoning and won’t be in for a few days. You’re about to ring Simon, but the woman shakes her head.
‘Avoid direct contact for the time being. Think about the trail you’re leaving. Just a simple text thanking him for the party.’
‘Do you think the police will trace it back to me?’
‘I hope not. But we need to think of a more convincing version of events if they do get in touch. Incidentally, you’ve never been arrested, have you?  Or questioned under caution?  Any formal warnings?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Your DNA isn’t on record in that case.  Good.’

Dusk falls, a November gloom. You’re exhausted. And confused. You sense shadows hiding in the walls of the flat, shapes that blur with your thoughts. You drift off into a fitful sleep, aware of drunken blokes swearing and shouting, even though you know there is no one else in the flat, apart from you and the gorgeous woman. You see the bloke with the long tangled hair and unpleasant earrings, dancing on the spot as he waves his fists around and feigns blows on a dark street with little lighting, his movements like a boxer’s. You hear the sound of a police helicopter circling the sky, zooming in, the sound growing in volume, and you come to with a jolt.  
The gorgeous woman’s shaking you, her eyes stricken with fear and uncertainty. ‘I’ve checked the local news feed on Twitter. It’s really bad. Someone called an ambulance after the fight last night. The man eventually got to hospital, but he was declared DOA. He’s dead.’
‘I didn’t mean to,’ you say, totally numb.
‘Of course you didn’t. It was an accident.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise to me.  We need a plan. And stop blaming yourself.  For the last time, that man was going to beat you up. You defended yourself, okay?  It’s just a shame it resulted in this.’

So you’ve murdered someone.  Or committed manslaughter.  What do you do now?  After all, that bloke started it, didn’t he?  He threatened you, right?  Intended harm?  Why should you go to prison for something he started?  And how would you cope with a prison sentence?
‘The biggest problem is the CCTV on the bus, as that will show you and the man getting off at the same stop,’ the woman says, once she’s made herself another coffee. ‘As well as the fact he was at the party when you were. But don’t worry. It sounds like he was provoking everyone last night. It’s inevitable someone would eventually retaliate. We’ll think of a cover story. I have a friend, a lovely, lovely woman.  A couple of years ago, I helped her out of a lot of trouble.  Perhaps she would act as an alibi?’
‘I don’t want to get you or your friend into trouble.’
‘It’s complex, I admit. I  don’t really want to get involved, but you seem such a nice guy and what happened last night doesn’t seem right. If my friend can help, she will.’