The Sunday Times – Part 2

Isabell awoke sharply as the plane descended to the runway. Its’ enormous metal body shook furiously. She began to recall her time spent in the psychiatry ward at the Royal Prince Alfred – of all the voices telling her she was crazy, and the voices that assured her she wasn’t. The cold hallways and even colder people made for a rather unpleasant experience. But ‘unpleasant’ wasn’t nearly adequate enough to describe those long six months. In fact, she couldn’t recall a word that could.

It was 9am and Robert had managed only a few hours of restless sleep. He rubbed his eyes and stretched out the tension that was tearing through this body. He changed quickly and drove to the Police Station without the need for breakfast or coffee. How could he eat in a time like this?

An overweight officer sat at the front desk. She barely looked up from her computer as Robert walked in. “How can I help you sir?”

“It’s been well over 24 hours. It’s been 36 hours to be precise and I need to file a missing person’s report.”

She frowned, “Why didn’t you come in last night?”

“I don’t know, I was told I needed to wait at least 24 hours. So I figured if I waited half of that again then you would see the urgency of the situation this time.”

“Ok. What’s your name?”

“Robert. Robert Henderson.”

She handed him a clipboard and pointed to the waiting area. “Fill this out, I want all the details. Where they were going, where they could have been going, what they did that day. Everything. Then bring it back when you’re done.”

He sat and scrawled the answers as quickly as he could then got up and handed them back.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks,” the women read quickly. “You’ve mentioned she has a history of mental illness?”


“What illness?”

“Depression and schizophrenia mostly. But she recovered a while ago.”

Isabell picked up her luggage and made her way to the taxi stand. For a brief moment Robert crossed her mind. He asked her where she was, why she wasn’t at home and how she could do this to him. She didn’t have the answers he wanted, she wasn’t even certain she had answers for herself. The only thing she was certain of was her need to escape. She could no longer walk the suburban streets in the morning sun and watch as parents waved their children off to school. Her world had become too familiar, too painful. Every day was a reminder of what she had lost.


It was time for a clean canvas for a new life. She pushed her husband from her mind and stepped into a taxi.

To be continued…

© Celsie Richardson 2016


One thought on “The Sunday Times – Part 2

Comments are closed.