can’t just walk into Kmart and buy one! And Rafe reckons he heard my voice? He’s lying! I don’t know why, but he’s lying! And Gabbi must know that they’re after me! She was probably just trying to scream out and warn me!’
‘Well why did you run away when the police came? Oh, Cal, forget it. Please just come home. We can talk about it then. Darling, we know you wouldn’t mean to hurt anyone. You can’t even remember doing it.’
‘ I didn’t do it ! How could I remember something I never did?’ I said, infuriated. ‘Who’s feeding you this crap? Mum, it’s me, Cal, your son! What’s wrong with you?’ She was convinced I was guilty—that I’d hurt Gabbi—that I’d shot my uncle!
‘Please believe I don’t blame you!’ she said. ‘I know what you’ve been through—you’ve had the worst possible time of all of us. Please Cal, wecan get help for you!’
‘That’s not the sort of help I need!’ I shouted. This was impossible. I couldn’t explain my innocence over the phone. ‘Mum, you’ve got to believe me!’
‘Please, Cal. Just come home. You can’t imagine what I’m going through! I feel like I’m losing both of my children!’ Her voice broke and she started sobbing again.
‘Mum,’ I said calmly. ‘I didn’t do it. Please get that through your head. Once I’ve proved that I’m innocent I’ll come home. Something so much bigger than you can ever imagine is going on—’
My mobile beeped a warning: Battery Low. I’d need to swap the battery over with the spare one Boges gave me.
Suddenly a man’s voice came on the line. ‘Callum? Is that you?’
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
Then I realised. The cops were there with my mum!
I hung up instantly.
19 JANUARY
347 days to go …
I’d had the nightmare yet again. The same terrifying images and feelings had disturbed my sleep: being lost and helpless, shivering with fear and cold. I woke up in a sweat, and filled with despair.
It was starting to get light and I got up and washed my face with cold water. How could a toy dog be terrifying? It didn’t make sense. But the reality I was living was also a nightmare -Gabbi saying I was the one who hurt her, Rafe saying he heard me in the house, my prints all over the gun, my own mother not believing me … there was no escape.
23 JANUARY
343 days to go …
Another week had passed and I was finding things really hard. Life in hiding seemed to get worse.
Every morning, I’d spread the drawings out on the floor and study them. These were my work, my focus. I made notes, and scribbled down any ideas that came to me. I knew that in some way, they were connected to me, to my family.
Most days I’d go outside the back door where the lopsided tin roof—all that was left above the old verandah—sheltered me, and there I’d have something to eat from the supplies Boges had given me.
Then I’d go back to the drawings …
Time passed so slowly. Under the cover of darkness, I slipped out to buy more food, and batteries for my torch.
25 JANUARY
341 days to go …
I’d struggled to sleep the last couple of nights and was really feeling it.
I decided to copy the drawings for myself. I wanted to learn them, from the inside, hoping that they would reveal their secret to me. But what could I use as paper?
I pulled a black marker out of my bag and stood by one of the walls. I looked down at the commando angel carefully and began copying his image directly onto the wallpaper. His form began to take shape as I bent low and stretched high to capture the size of his intimidating stature. Soon he towered above me.
I moved further along the wall and drew the monkey next, with his ball in hand, then the waiter carrying the tray of cards, the Romanemperor and the Sphinx, the cupboard and the number five, then the rose and the boy … I looked around at my surroundings and there was no answer. The images that I’d stared at non-stop since I found them at the mausoleum all
‘Well why did you run away when the police came? Oh, Cal, forget it. Please just come home. We can talk about it then. Darling, we know you wouldn’t mean to hurt anyone. You can’t even remember doing it.’
‘ I didn’t do it ! How could I remember something I never did?’ I said, infuriated. ‘Who’s feeding you this crap? Mum, it’s me, Cal, your son! What’s wrong with you?’ She was convinced I was guilty—that I’d hurt Gabbi—that I’d shot my uncle!
‘Please believe I don’t blame you!’ she said. ‘I know what you’ve been through—you’ve had the worst possible time of all of us. Please Cal, wecan get help for you!’
‘That’s not the sort of help I need!’ I shouted. This was impossible. I couldn’t explain my innocence over the phone. ‘Mum, you’ve got to believe me!’
‘Please, Cal. Just come home. You can’t imagine what I’m going through! I feel like I’m losing both of my children!’ Her voice broke and she started sobbing again.
‘Mum,’ I said calmly. ‘I didn’t do it. Please get that through your head. Once I’ve proved that I’m innocent I’ll come home. Something so much bigger than you can ever imagine is going on—’
My mobile beeped a warning: Battery Low. I’d need to swap the battery over with the spare one Boges gave me.
Suddenly a man’s voice came on the line. ‘Callum? Is that you?’
‘Who’s that?’ I asked.
Then I realised. The cops were there with my mum!
I hung up instantly.
19 JANUARY
347 days to go …
I’d had the nightmare yet again. The same terrifying images and feelings had disturbed my sleep: being lost and helpless, shivering with fear and cold. I woke up in a sweat, and filled with despair.
It was starting to get light and I got up and washed my face with cold water. How could a toy dog be terrifying? It didn’t make sense. But the reality I was living was also a nightmare -Gabbi saying I was the one who hurt her, Rafe saying he heard me in the house, my prints all over the gun, my own mother not believing me … there was no escape.
23 JANUARY
343 days to go …
Another week had passed and I was finding things really hard. Life in hiding seemed to get worse.
Every morning, I’d spread the drawings out on the floor and study them. These were my work, my focus. I made notes, and scribbled down any ideas that came to me. I knew that in some way, they were connected to me, to my family.
Most days I’d go outside the back door where the lopsided tin roof—all that was left above the old verandah—sheltered me, and there I’d have something to eat from the supplies Boges had given me.
Then I’d go back to the drawings …
Time passed so slowly. Under the cover of darkness, I slipped out to buy more food, and batteries for my torch.
25 JANUARY
341 days to go …
I’d struggled to sleep the last couple of nights and was really feeling it.
I decided to copy the drawings for myself. I wanted to learn them, from the inside, hoping that they would reveal their secret to me. But what could I use as paper?
I pulled a black marker out of my bag and stood by one of the walls. I looked down at the commando angel carefully and began copying his image directly onto the wallpaper. His form began to take shape as I bent low and stretched high to capture the size of his intimidating stature. Soon he towered above me.
I moved further along the wall and drew the monkey next, with his ball in hand, then the waiter carrying the tray of cards, the Romanemperor and the Sphinx, the cupboard and the number five, then the rose and the boy … I looked around at my surroundings and there was no answer. The images that I’d stared at non-stop since I found them at the mausoleum all
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