“Liar,” she says. “We can do this the easy way, or I can peel the skin of your body inch by inch until you tell me the truth.”
Tears flood my eyes.
“I don’t know about any money! Please, you have to believe me!”
“Well,” she says, and pushes my head back to the front. “I don’t.”
Heels walk away from me, and then a door falls into its hinges. A heavy door. Probably steel.
And I am left in the darkness. With fear, horror, and the dire need to pee.
My mouth is dry and tastes horrible, and I can scent my own sweat.
I try to hold the pee, I really do. But at some point, I can’t.
The warm fluid runs down my legs, making me realise how cold I am. Disgust spreads through me as the scent trails up my nose.
Voices in my head battle themselves for screaming thoughts atme. Asking me how I could be so stupid. Telling me that I should have stayed home. Convincing me that I am going to die here. Because of money I do not have.
Why would they think I have money?
“I don’t know about any money!” I scream into the void. “We never had much since my father died and my mother fell sick!”
But no one answers.
I feel so weak.
Dizzy.
I have no idea how long I have been here.
My body is exhausted.
My mind shuts off.
I have read in one of the lecture books that traumatic experiences cause parts of the mind to separate itself. I can’t feel myself. I feel nothing right now. I am a shell, nothing else.
“Wake up,”says another female voice. It’s the woman I met on the streets while I wanted to grab some food, waiting for Luisa.
Luisa.
“What the hell do you want with me?” I say with a croaky voice. My throat feels like sandpaper.
My body feels weak, and one sentence is already exhausting me.
“You know what we want,” she says. “The money.”
“I don’t have any money, please! Why do you even think I have it?”
“Because your father took it, and hid you with it, just after you killed.”
My body is so exhausted, it takes me a moment to process. My father. Hid me with it.
Killed.
“I didn’t kill anyone!” I scream.
“Oh, but you did. And we have proof.”
