She leaves the room for a few moments, and when she returns she again walks over to me, there is no respite. Come with me, so that we can give you the bruising, she repeats.
A girl gets up from her plastic seat, just as I leave the room. She hands me her soft grey teddy bear. It has floppy legs and arms and I am crying as I hug the teddy bear, squeeze it tightly.
The adjacent room is small, an interrogation room, I assume it is where the beating will occur and a man is already there. He sits opposite to me, close up, no table, just our two chairs, facing each other.
I notice the man is large but he does not look violent.
You’ve been brought here and we are going to give you a bruising, he tells me. His hands are large and round, cupped together in his lap.
Who do you think you are? I tell him belligerently. You are no better than the PLO, I yell.
Yes we are, he replies.
You’re no better than them! I provoke. He seems offended and I keep at him. Why am I even here? There is no reason. What did you even discover? The PLO are better than you, I tell him.
He looks riled up. No they are not, he replies.
Behind a yellow curtain I see the legs of another chair, a person sitting there.
So what did you even discover? I yell again.
From behind the curtain a large woman comes out, stands up.
“Girls will wet your wings!” the man says.
What does that mean? I reply.
“Girls will wet your wings” he repeats.
What does that even mean? I spit at him.
Photo by Alex Layzell via Flickr
