Doctored by Polly A. Magena

Author:Polly A. Magena
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2017-09-13T04:00:00+00:00

15.

Aftermath

The outrage surging through me like an angry lightening fork, was trying desperately to find an outlet - all I knew was that a very abusive man was set free after my evidence was distorted, minimised or suppressed. Inside, I felt like running round the place shouting with pain. However, I wanted to contain whatever dignity was left in my battered state, so my only option was to take off inside the HMA, head for the lifts up to the higher floors and zoom round the corridors there to let rip. Luckily, no one was up there, so my fury at the unjust verdict fired up an exploding ball of trapped energy. All I was capable of feeling was unbridled rage. My brain was incapable of any thoughts, not even tiredness, thirst or physical sensation. I felt disorientated. My immediate world was timeless and meaningless. All sense of justice had evaporated. For a while, I can’t say for how long, my body hit the lifts with their warren of corridors upstairs, trying to rage away from people, almost having to steal a slice of respectful privacy where my feelings could not be criticised. I owned that anger.

The goodbyes said to everyone, I was on the train back home in a state of shock. Mr Q had provided the cash for the ticket. The amount must have been over the standard class price because I soon moved into first class on automatic pilot for comfort and safety, functioning like a zombie.I don’t recall much of the journey - I behaved as though in a trance, staring ahead of me at nothing in particular, devoid of coherent thought. At my destination, I seemed to lose my internal spatial map, so I hopped into a taxi to take me to my front door, still in a semi-hypnotic daze. Once inside the house, I dropped my bag down, unable to deal with its contents or anything else. I sat on the sofa with half- dead, glazed eyes, only half-present to myself.

Later the phone rang, temporarily breaking my strange state of consciousness and it was Abby making sure that I got home ok. We chatted for some time about the HMA experience, especially the doc’s crazy acquittal. From that time onwards, the three of us stayed in touch regularly, deeply bonded by the traumatic experiences at the medical court.

Once the call was over, I couldn’t function properly, my only refuge being my bedroom upstairs. For three months, I lived on my bed, as if in a cage but a cage chosen voluntarily which offered a necessary sense of containment. I had returned home to a gloomy, empty house - a place without warmth or comfort. Like most other people, I didn’t have the physical hugs or gentle words from loved ones that provide solace in a dark place. Like an injured animal, I sought refuge in a small space that was mine, without fear of intrusion into my life. From the top of my bed, I hugged my thoughts, kept them warm.

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