By Parvati Smith
He sat in the gathering darkness for what seemed an interminable time, reflecting on the train of events that had brought the situation to a head.
So here he was again “history repeating itself” in the cruellest of ways, all alone, dejected and disheartened. A multitude of chaotic, dark, foreboding thoughts, screaming around in his head with great speed, like a roaring racing car out of control. He recognised this depressive state. He had been there before both physically and mentally, but surely not this intensely. This was not a nice place or state to be in, he groaned. He remembered the past, the innumerable problems he had encountered, the struggles he had had to overcome. He had overcome those; he knew it irrefutably in his heart and mind. Back there he had made a total commitment to become a better person, to be the best he could be. He had loved being that better self. The improvements and changes to his life, choices and sacrifices he had had to make had seemed insurmountable at that time. All those challenges, confronting him in the past. But he had overcome those obstacles, embraced all that was good and avoided all the recognisable bad stuff.
So how had he come to be incarcerated here in this hellhole of a prison? Now, on reflection all too late, it was so obvious. A catastrophic train of events had led him to being here.
To him it just had to be. He had been set up. So cruelly obvious, well and truly ‘sent to the cleaners’ as the age old saying goes. Without a doubt, it had to be his best friends. Who else could it have been? Just unbelievable. How could his best friends have betrayed him so mercenarily? They were his best friends forever, from a very young childhood time. How could they do this to him? He had forgiven them heart fully, in the past for minor misunderstanding and misdemeanours, but this current situation. Wow, just absolutely cruel. This was unforgivable. He was the victim here not the instigator, he really truly undeniably believed this to be the truth.
So, how did it all come to this? Trying hard to unravel his chaotic thoughts, his mind still in a turmoil, he just felt It must have started from his re-association with his closest friend and mentor Jake. Jake, his buddy, his closest childhood friend, the guy who always “had his back” no matter what.
* * *
Jake had introduced him to some friends of his at the local pub. It had been a very enjoyable, entertaining night. Everybody had been happy drinking nonstop, shouting, talking loudly as one tends to do in a crowded atmosphere to be heard over the tremendous din, vibrating around the walls.
He remembered vaguely seeing Jake and his mates in a corner and then when he looked again some time later they had seemingly disappeared. Not paying much notice to this he had carried on drinking and socialising. Drinks kept appearing, he kept drinking. He had joined his new found friends in the corner. At some stage he must have blacked out or something.
He remembered now that he had woken up in a strange eerily quiet place. As he had drowsily come to his senses, with a massive headache, no surprises there. He realised he was in a small warehouse-like building. A small amount of blinding light was shining from what appeared as a skylight window in the ceiling above. As he had attempted to get up from the floor, he had stumbled, tripped and fallen over a large object. On recovery he had peered closely at the latter, and to his absolute shock horror he had found that it was a male person lying very still. On closer examination, he found that this person was well and truly dead. The glassy eyes, immovably, staring at him. What was frightening was he saw a large red patch on the chest of the body. It was so blatantly obvious the guy had been shot. There was a gun, one that he had touched inadvertently, when he had turned the guy over, regretfully now, leaving his fingerprints on it.
His first and foremost thought had been that he had to escape from this horror in front of him. He remembered screaming, dashing around like a maniac, around the floor space, trying to find a door. In his panic state he hadn’t found his means of escape, just walls. He had finally cowered in a corner, scared witless out of his mind, crying and screaming for what seemed a very long time. He remembered not being able to stop his body shaking either. He couldn’t remember that he had vomited uncontrollably at some stage, evidenced by his foul smelling sticky clothes but did remember feeling disgustingly empty and weak. Tiredness had overwhelmed him and he had eventually fallen asleep. At some time he had felt someone shaking him vigorously, and then lifting him. He had looked around in a daze and dizzy state, aware that he was seeing uniformed men, blue and more blue , shouting, pulling, pushing and dragging him. They had managed to get him outside into a car. So there had been a means of escape after all. He had just not found the door because of his ultra-panic state.
He vaguely remembered the driver driving erratically, a noisy siren blasting above, until they had come to a screeching stop at a building with a light beaming on a sign saying POLICE STATION.
Now he had realised he was in big Trouble.
He had spent the first night there, recovering to some sort of semblance of a human being. But as one night crept into the next day and that day turned into a number of days he had realised that nobody was going to come and help him. No family (his closest including his parents had passed away) no friends (they had absolutely betrayed and abandoned him). With no recollection of relatives he realised he had no hope of anybody surfacing to help him. Totally alone and screwed. How was he ever going to prove his total innocence? Despairingly realisation came again to the fore of his addled brain.
He was absolutely and without a doubt, well and truly “done for”.
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