She sits hunched on the edge of a garden bed on Cavill Avenue, carry-on suitcase beside her, head in her hands. The scenery is picturesque: perfectly preened garden, spotless blue sky, sun blazing, the sound of seabirds constant but soothing – at least to any other listener. Inside her head, a storm rages.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The Gold Coast. Schoolies.