Amy's Last Chance

Chapter Five

Raindrops rolled down the outside of the window, mirroring Amy’s sadness.  Through the dirty screen of wet glass she could see trees with heads bowed in the wind and rain, horses with their winter coats strapped around them and heads held low.  Her heart was as full of sorrow as a bucket overflowing under a dripping tap.  Still mute, her previously numb brain was now working overtime.  The full realisation of her situation was beginning to hit her, and the horror was overwhelming.

   Amy was 23 when Clare died, 24 when found guilty, and would be 44 before being released from prison.  Her life was over before it had begun.  Amy’s heart beat rapidly, the palpitations evidence of her quiet desperation.  She struggled for breath in the close, humid environment of the prison bus, her palms sweaty and sticky, her body rigid with fear.  This couldn’t be happening!  It was like awaking from a nightmare only to find that it wasn’t a dream.  The now-familiar nausea swept over her like a wave engulfing her from head to toe.  She felt herself go under, gasping for air, and heard the prison officer calling out to her to settle down.  But it was too late, she wasn’t able to respond.

   Later, in the jail, Amy was prescribed a sedative by the prison doctor.  Hysterical muteness is what they called her condition, with panic attacks thrown in for good measure.  Amy lived through the next few months in a stupor.  She had no visitors, except her court-appointed lawyer, who attended briefly every couple of weeks to advise on the progress of her appeal.  The most she could hope for was a term in a mental hospital instead of a regular jail.  In her condition she wasn’t thought to be a danger to others, and a secure hospital ward could be her best option.

       Meanwhile, Mike had completed his legal studies and was working in one of Melbourne’s top law firms.  He had graduated with honours, and worked hard at putting the memories behind him.  He worked hard and he played hard.  With his income, drugs were easy to come by, and Mike found himself quickly moving from a Saturday night habit through the weekend, then using again on a Wednesday night to celebrate the week being half over.  Everyone thinks only no-hopers use drugs.  The community doesn’t realise that an addict could just as easily be your accountant or hairdresser as the long-haired shady character you avoid in the street.  The difference is that those with money can afford to avoid the jitters by using more regularly and thus often escape notice.  Mike escaped the memories each evening with scotch and marijuana, and used speed on weekends to become the life of the party.  He was known as a fun-loving guy, had many friends and a very full life.  But he was desolate.  Amy had been his soul-mate, and he knew it.