KIMMY'S LIST

CONTINUED…

The knot in her stomach just quadrupled. She was too frightened to close her eyes. She shared a cell with the real - life bogey woman.

For several hours Kimberly lay awake with the covers up under her chin and her eyes fixed firmly on her sleeping cell mate.

Kimberly’s heart rate raced every time the other woman moved in her bed. In the end, fatigue eventually won out and Kimberly slept.

The following morning Kimberly woke when the cell lights flickered on. She quickly glanced at the cell mate opposite. Still asleep. Kimberly sighted her relief.

She threw her legs onto the floor and stood. She stretched into a long yawn. Her eyes locked onto the cold, uninviting steel toilet bowl. She needed her morning pee, but that toilet was right up there with public toilets, and Kimberly didn’t do public toilets.

In the end, she had no choice. She either used that toilet, or peed her pants. Kimberly moved over and inspected the toilet. Her face distorted. Being a self - confessed ‘gramophone’, she felt dirty just looking at it. She tried not to think of the type of people who had used it before her.

Her eyes lifted to the ceiling mounted CCTV camera in the opposite corner. The short nib wall beside the toilet offered a modicum of privacy from the prying eye of the camera, but only just. The wall however did not offer any privacy from her cell mate. It was like having no door on a public toilet cubicle.

Kimberly squatted over the toilet. There was no way she was touching that steel bowl. When she was done she sat back on her bed. Her eyes scanned the cold concrete walls of her cell. I wonder what the time is….

She didn’t have to wait long to find out. The sound of keys and a metal door latch drew her attention to the cell door. The door opened. Light from the exercise yard bled in through the door. A female cop carrying a tray entered the cell.

‘Good Morning,’ Kimberly said, as though she was receiving room service at a hotel.

‘Morning.’ The cop’s reply was perfunctory. The cop placed a plate of food and a tin mug containing a milky coffee on the bed beside Kimberly. Kimberly inspected the breakfast. She was surprised to see scrambled eggs on toast.

‘Could you tell me the time, please,’ Kimberly said.

The cop placed the other meal on the floor beside the other woman’s bed. She checked her watch. ‘8AM,’ she said.

‘Thank you so much,’ Kimberly said.

‘Walter…’ the cop said, firmly. The other woman failed to move. ‘Walter….’ The cop repeated, this time with more feeling.

‘I’m awake,’ a voice blurted from under the covers.

‘Breakfast,’ the cop said then exited the cell, leaving the door open.

Breakfast was surprisingly edible. The exception was the tin cup of cold, instant coffee. It left a bitter after taste and was a far cry from the barista served coffee she enjoyed daily with Naomi at morning tea break.

After breakfast, Kimberly moved to the cell door. She paused to glance outside. Two other women sat against a wall. Kimberly took her first steps into prison life. The women briefly glanced at Kimberly then returned to their in-depth discussion.

Kimberly moved to the opposite end of the yard and sat back against a cold concrete wall.

Throughout the long, boring day some more prisoners arrived and some prisoners left, but Kimberly remained. She people - watched to help pass the time. One thing was constant, she was nothing like any of the other women in there with her. Each one of them was rough and unrefined. They all swore worse than most men Kimberly knew.

It was well into the afternoon when a male cop entered the exercise yard and scanned the occupants. He stopped when his eyes met Kimberly. He pointed to Kimberly.

‘Davis,’ he said, then jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. ‘Time to go…’

She climbed to her feet.

‘Where to?’

‘Your new home,’ the cop said. He extended a hand to the external cell door.

Kimberly walked through.

‘Where’s my new home?’

‘The DOCS…’

She remembered the female cop last night said that same acronym.

‘That’s a remand centre, or something, isn’t it?’ Kimberly said.

‘It’s a maximum security shelter,’ the cop said.

Kimberly stopped walking. Her jaw dropped. She glared at the cop. The cop ignored her glare and kept walking, ‘Am I being moved to a maximum security place…?’

‘That’s right. Keep moving please.’

Her heart rate quickened. Her mouth became dry. She didn’t want to be in a maximum security shelter or prison for that matter. It was bad enough staying in the police station cells with those other rough women. What would it be like in maximum security? That’s where they send hardened criminals.

The cop escorted Kimberly to a secured sally port. A large white bus, similar in size to a large RV motor home, was parked in the garage. On each side of the bus there were two doors and rows of aeroplane style windows that ran the length of the bus. The cop escorted Kimberly to the driver’s side of the bus.

He opened the door closest to the rear, then gestured for Kimberly to enter. Kimberly glanced up into a small room then looked back to the cop for reassurance. The cop gestured to step up.

Kimberly climbed up into the small pod. Once inside, the cop slammed the door behind her. The small 1.5 meter by 1.5 meter, steel room had two small port holes windows - one in the door and one beside the door that allowed limited light in. Two steel hinged seats sat vertical against a wall. Harness style seat belts dangled loosely beside the seats.

She glanced out the window, heavily scratched with names and other graffiti. She wondered if the cop got the right vehicle. This was more suited to transport stray dogs, not people. Prison system’s version of cattle class.

Kimberly lowered one of the seats and sat. The cold, unpadded steel was hard on her bum. She remembered the female cop said the DOCS was in Deer Park, which she knew was over one hour away. So it was going to be a long, uncomfortable ride on these seats.

After fifteen minutes voices could be heard outside Kimberly’s pod. She glanced out the window as her door flew open.

‘Get in and shut up. I’m sick of listening to ya,’ a cop said.

A young woman in her mid-twenties quickly climbed up into the pod, lowered the other seat and slumped down onto it. She extended her legs, crossed her arms and shut her eyes. She had clearly done this before.

Being new to this life, Kimberly had no idea what the protocols were. Does one talk to their transport buddy? Or would she beat me if I tried? Silence was the safest option.

A few minutes later the shelter transport bus started up and she was on her way….

The trip to Deer Park was a quiet one to this point. The other women slept the whole way. Kimberly was a little envious at how relaxed this woman was, given the uncomfortable seat and the destination that awaited them.

With no conversation to pass the time Kimberly tried to imagine life in ‘Jail’. She’d seen all the women’s prison shows like ‘Wentworth, Orange is the New Black, and Mayor of Kingstown.’ What they portrayed about life in jail scared her, especially psychos like ‘Joan T Ferguson, The Denning Sisters and The Virus..”

It would be bad enough being sentenced to a maximum security prison when you had committed a crime, but Kimberly hadn’t even been convicted of anything. She hadn’t had her day in court. Yet here she was, on her way to a maximum security ‘jail’ to live with convicted druggies and murderers and other undesirable women of whom she did her best to distance herself from.

The closer they came, the more her anxiety levels rose. Her nervous foot bounced up and down.

She rubbed her hands across her thighs as she glanced out the porthole. The fear she felt over the unknown was rising to palpable.

‘First time, huh?’ The other woman said. She never opened her eyes. She never changed from her reclined position. She just knew.

Kimberly startled when the woman spoke. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Yep. You’re like a fart in a bottle. Ya can’t keep still….’

‘I’m Sorry. But this seat is killing my bum.’

‘And you’re shittin’ yourself at what to expect, aren’t cha?’

‘I am actually.’

‘You sentenced, or remanded?’

‘Ah, remanded.’

‘Don’t sweat it. You’ll be fine. You’ll be in one of them cottages. That’s where they keep remandees.’’

‘What’s a cottage? I thought we were heading to a maximum security prison. Aren’t they filled with jail cells….?’

‘They are. There’s maximum security, medium security and minimum security. You’ll be in minimum….’

‘Are you minimum too?’

‘Ha.’ The woman scoffed. ‘I wish…Nah. I’m maximum all the way. Have been for two years now.

Kimberly’s eyebrows arched. ‘You’ve been in jail for two years….?’ Kimberly said as a question. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose two years of your life, two years you’d never get back. She wasn’t sure if she should feel pity for this woman, or respect, not for her crimes, but for making it this far.

‘Yep, and those bastards just denied my third and final appeal. So now I’ve got four more to serve.’

Kimberly’s mouth fell open. Six years. She slowly shook an astonished head. Six years of not seeing your partner, not holding your partner. Six years of being told when to sleep, when to eat, living in a small confined cell. Everything in your old life would’ve changed after six years.

She was too frightened to ask what the woman did to receive six years. Instead all she said was, ‘How horrible….’

The woman shrugged. ‘It is what it is. Can’t change it now.’

Kimberly rubbed her nervous hands over her thighs. Just thinking about jail time caused her anxiety levels to rise, anxiety and frustration at being locked up for something she never did.

The other woman glanced passed Kimberly, out the porthole window. She lifted her chin at the view, ‘We’re almost there,’ she said, then sat back.

Kimberly checked out the window. Nothing but paddocks as far as she could see.

A few minutes later the bus slowed and turned left. Kimberly peered out the porthole window. She could see a large blue sign with the name of their destination printed across it. The bus stopped and sat idling while a huge roller door opened, then it rolled through into the prison grounds.

The bus’s brakes squealed as it jolted to a stop. ‘Well, here we are…’ Kimberly’s travel companion said. ‘Home fucken’ sweet home…’

Kimberly glanced out the window. They were parked in a small court yard. She could see two prison officers waiting. One held a clipboard. She started to feel sick in the stomach. He butterflies were having a party in there.

‘They’ll do a roll call first, then we’ll be moved to our cells,’ the other woman said.

One-by-one the bus’s doors were opened and its occupants were unloaded, starting on the other side of the bus. After a short wait, Kimberly’s pod door opened. Bright light flooded in. Kimberly squinted while her eyes adjusted.

‘Step down,’ a male guard instructed.

Kimberly unclipped her seat belt. As she did so, her travel companion exited first. Kimberly followed. She didn’t have time to look around the high-walled court yard. The prison guard directed her towards the line of four woman standing side - by - side. Kimberly scurried over to the end of the line.

The guard stood out front. ‘Feet behind the yellow line…’

Kimberly didn’t realize there was a thick yellow line on the ground. She adjusted her feet then checked the others.

The guard glared to his left, to the opposite end to Kimberly. ‘Starting with you, call out your name and your CRN…Go.;

‘What’s a CRN…?’ Kimberly whispered out the side of her mouth, to her travel companion.

‘It’s ya corrections reference number,’ the woman whispered. ‘Don’t sweat. You won’t have one. You’re on remand.’

Kimberly nodded her vague understanding.

One-by-one, each woman blurted out their name, followed by a number. The guard checked them off on his clipboard.

When he glared at Kimberly, her pulse quickened. She gulped. She hadn’t experienced this sort of intimidating discipline since school. ‘Um, Kimberly Davis….’

The guard checked her off. He slipped his clipboard under an arm. ‘OK, move in.’ He gestured to a door to his left. The single file of women deemed unfit for society, moved off towards a door.