Lisa MacDonald: Freedom
Translated by Elissa Hunter-Dorans
On her way home in the car, she reviewed her long day. From waking up early, feeding the animals in the dark, filling a flask with coffee since nowhere would be open until she arrived in the city, and putting on her neat black dress - she wanted to be ready. It was a big day, one that had been on her horizon, hanging heavily over her for many years. Finally, as she sat in that austere new courthouse, the solicitor by her side and with him facing her, she would get the chance to tell them all what happened.
There was snow at the side of the road, and the deer were nibbling at the gorse in the ditches, having come down from the hills with the cold. She was surprised by how tight her shoulders were still, and how fast and dark her heart was beating, all the voices exploding into an ugly, pressing echo in her mind. She blinked to clear the images from her mind, and before she realised it, the nearest wheel caught a small patch of ice. The seconds seemed like an eternity before she managed to control the car and ease it into a passing-place. She leaned her head against the steering wheel and let out a breath.
[…]
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