No. Not here.
Please, not here.
My palms begin to sweat, dizziness taking over.
Wish I lived in the opposite direction.
Wish I’d never listened to the librarian who'd told me to go to Nudgee.
The worst fucking beach in the world.
Nothing but mud flats and mangroves.
Not a speck of white sand.
If I’d never listened to her, I wouldn't be stuck here.
Trapped inside this tin can of a bus, having a panic attack.
We’re still several miles from the edge of town.
But even if I beg the driver to let me off, where would I run to?
I’d have to go back eventually.
And if there’s a flood, I might not be able to get home.
Back to safety.
Back to Porter.
Better to have a roof over my head than to stay outside.
???
I still have nightmares about being locked out during storms.
Now the memories surface again.
The way my dad laughed every time I pounded on the door.
“Let me inside, Daddy. Please.”
But he never did.
He started doing it when I was still small enough to wear nappies.
Ray found it entertaining.
Most of the time he did it to get a reaction from my mother.
Her screams were the worst part.
Whenever she'd tried to open the door, my dad would grab her by the throat.
“Fucking teach you both a lesson,” he'd growl.
“Ray, let him inside! He’s just a baby!”
