Chapter Six

“What is your name?”

 

“Shira,”

 

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that for me again please?”

 

“Shira,” Shira forced her vocal chords to raise her voice. Her cheek began to warm underneath the woman’s penetrating stare. She watched as the woman silently scribbled down notes onto a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard.

 

“Your last name?”

 

Shira lowered her gaze to the chipped and gouged surface of the dark oak wood desk. It was badly scuffed in places with shiny patches scattered across the wood. It was in a desperate need of a polish, and a good polish and buffering in its sorry state. The desk seemed huge in this tiny interview room, dominating most of the floor space and hiding the dirty black floor from Shira’s view. Spidery fingers of cracks ran along the dark blue paint coating the walls.

 

“What is your last name?” the woman repeated the question. A hint of slight annoyance and perhaps frustration had already entered her voice.

 

Shira shrugged her shoulders as if brushing off an unimportant question and avoided meeting the woman’s gaze. She found herself sinking lower into her chair to escape the unwanted attention.

 

Go away. Leave me alone…

 

For a fleeting moment, an inquisitive look flashed across the woman’s face: a mixture of both confusion and curiosity then it was gone. But it had lingered long enough for Shira to just about catch it.

 

“What about your age? How old are you?”

 

Shira’s heart faltered for a second and the world slowed to a halt. She remembered waking up underneath the blossom tree and sucking in air through short and ragged gasps. The dancing summer snowflakes twirling as they swirled to the ground, and their silky smooth texture as she caught them and gently rubbed them against her lips.

 

My name is Shira.

 

Shira looked up, snapping herself from her trance. The woman was frowning. Small lines, frown lines, creased the folds beside her eyes.

 

I don’t even know my own age.

 

Shira shrugged again, a brief and truthful answer to the question as she dug at one of the gouges with a fingernail. She had never found the marks on a desk so fascinating before. The sounds of a pen scratching against paper were almost deafening in this tense and awkward silence.

 

“Can you remember anything at all?”

 

Shira shook her head.

 

“What about your parents? Can you tell me their names?”

 

The same voices from the flashbacks echoed through her mind again without a single trace of familiarity embedded in either of them.

 

I got you ice cream, Shira.

 

Open your mouth, Shira!

 

Shira shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She furiously rubbed them away with the back of her hand before they had the chance to gather and fall.

 

Now is not the time to cry, Shira!

 

The woman’s gaze seared into Shira’s flesh, leaving blackened holes in her skin.

 

Stop staring at me…

 

Shira snapped out of it, furious that she had allowed herself to wallow in self-pity the entire time. She was here now and was receiving help at last. That was good enough for the time being, wasn’t it? A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Shira’s face, tingling against her skin.

 

“You cannot remember anything at all?”

 

She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, urging herself to not lose her temper and lash out. She breathed in slowly through her nose and gradually released her breath through her mouth. How many more times would she have to tell this woman that she couldn’t remember anything?

 

Shira shook her head, watching as the woman glanced up from her hastily scribbled notes, expecting to hear a response. Again, Shira shook her head, this time making sure that the woman could see her answer. The woman pushed a loose strand of her silvery blonde hair from out of her face and gently tucked it behind her ear.

 

The intense whine of the only air con present in the box room cut through the air, only adding to the lurking awkwardness of the looming silence. The air con would do no good, Shira knew, since it was too humid and stuffy in this tiny room. It was almost as humid and hot as the air in Hong Kong.

 

Hong Kong? How the hell do I know about Hong Kong--?

 

The woman suddenly sniffed, rubbing the end of her nose with a finger and her eyebrows knitted together into a slight frown. She glanced up from her notes, her gaze landing on Shira.

 

“Have you urinated into your clothes?”

 

Shira’s eyes widened at the question and a fire began in her cheeks. She recalled the spreading warmth in her trousers as her attacker had grabbed her wrist, flecks of spit spraying onto her cheeks as the girl had hissed give me your money. Shira clutched the sides of the desk as if to stop herself from sinking through the floor from shame and humiliation, her knuckles turning bone-white from the tension. She gulped and slowly nodded, not daring to meet the woman’s stare. Her cheeks burned like wildfire.

 

The woman sniffed again, lines of disapproval sinking into her cheeks and forehead.

 

“Would you like to borrow a pair of trousers?”

 

Shira slowly nodded, her mouth hanging open slightly and her cheeks raging from the humiliation. The monster in her stomach suddenly awoke from its once dormant state and shook its head before letting out an almighty bellow. The sound ripped through the air, a roar of anger that could not go on ignored.

 

A slight smile tugged at the corners of the woman’s lips.

 

“Are you hungry too?”

 

The snarling in Shira’s stomach faltered to a whimper, as if cowering away from the offer, knowing that it would soon be defeated and rid of.

 

“I take that as a yes, then?”

 

Again, Shira nodded, clenching her clammy fists, feeling her nails bite into the soft flesh of her palms, small pains shooting up through her hands.

 

For a few moments, the silence came down upon Shira and the woman, blanketing the pair beneath a suffocating taciturnity. Then the scraping of the legs of the woman’s chair against the floor shattered the silence, slicing through the air as she stood up.

 

“If you could wait here for a few moments,” the woman said, “I’ll see what I can do to help.”