Remembering Hope Findlay

Chapter 5 - Who?

The room I was sitting in was darkened - not the darkness that you need a flashlight, just the kind of darkness that you strain your eyes trying to read in. My butt was numbed from the icy touch of the metal chair I was sitting on. I was surrounded by dark taunting grey walls like the stormy clouds in the sky. I was looking at some dark black glass like a window, but I could only see my reflection. My tassled black hair was like a raven that had just been runover. My brown eyes sleepy and droopy, my mouth once a kissable pink to a sore red from all the confusion.

It had been more than twenty three minutes - I was counting the seconds by the slowly ticking clock on the wall. There was still no sign of anyone coming. I stood up and started pacing around the lifeless room. Walking around the room made me bored and I soon looked up. The ceiling was fairly low with a singular bright white light shining directly into any person's eyes that came into the room. The light grew paint was slowly peeling off at the edges where the ceiling met the dark wall. I sat down again not bothering to react when the cold metal met my pale thighs. I continued sitting for about twenty seconds before I started to panic.

Would anyone ever come?

Would I be stuck in this dark room forever?

Would I die alone and no one would know?

"I don't want to die here!" I screamed silently out in the brisk air.

I stood up and ran over to the dark glass, hitting it with my fists - at first storngly and forceful, then weakening to a light flick on it. I turned and slid my body down against the wall; curling up in a tight ball. With my head in my hands hanging low, my pathetic and lonely mood got interrupted by the sound of a heavy door opening - the welcoming sound between my small sobs.

"You don't recognise any of these men? At all?" The agent asked me as I looked deeply into the photographed faces he had laid out infront of me.

"N... no.... not at all." I said my voice slightly trembling. "Should I?"

"Nevermind that." His deep voice went as he replaced the current pictures with new photographs of more people. Most of them were men - one had a harsh looking face with a scar from his sqauree chin up to his wide brow. it was a purpley colour, unlike his dark black eyes. The man on the end had strange woman-like features; a petite nose, gentle eyes and a slight raise in the brow. I peered closer, realising it was a woman, although she had a dark face, she was quite beautiful. Perhaps she was once a mother of one who had her partner leave her then she turned feral...

The agent cleared his throat and I looked up immediately; woken from my deep thoughts of the history of the people's faces infront of me. Looking into his brown eyes made me realise what I was doing... he wanted me to identify these faces... sort of like they do in crime shows.   

I shook my head, seeing the slight moment of hope leave his eye.

Hours passed with endless photographed faces looking into mine, not a bell rung in my head.

"Dammit you must remember one thing; how their hair was, what colour it was, their eye colour... their nose? You need to remember something!" He finally let out with a burst of frustration. As he stormed out of the door the only things I knew was that I really wanted to remember but I couldn't and the second being that I need to pee. I was at that stage where even moving a leg was painful. Looking around the room I saw that the interveiwer wasn't going to be coming back any time soon. Looking at the black glass opposite me I pleaded with my eyes - hoping that someone was actually behind there and I wasn't just going crazy by talking to glass. I waited a few minutes and finally made the decision to break my pained silence as the pressure in my bladder built up furthur. I was feeling like a volcano that was about to explode.