And as she sat there looking at the wires running in and out of her, their monitors blipping and beeping – there was this gnawing silence inside her head – and it didn’t go away even when she opened her mouth to answer the questions that annoying man sitting in front of her asked.
She knew she was speaking but she couldn’t hear herself – not in the literal sense of the term unable to hear, she knew what words she was saying, except even the sound of the words she was saying didn’t make the silence go away.
And he was asking the same set of questions the other one had asked the day before. Or had it been two days? She didn’t know.
It was freezing cold and he had sweat beading up along his forehead. How was that even possible?
And as she attempted to push that thought about the gnawing silence away, this thought about pushing that thought away took up space. It had always been this way inside her head. All these myriad things clamouring for attention – and she had to pick through them all.
The questions were all the same.
“What is your name?
How old are you? Where are you from?
What are your parents’ names?
What do they do?”
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
They are doctors.”
“You don’t remember their names?”
“But you remember your parents were doctors?”
“What year is it?”
“Where are your parents?”
“I don’t know.”
“Eva, have you noticed that you have multiple scars on your hands?”
“How did you get them?”
“I don’t know.”
And the man got up, and left, just like the other one had. Sweating more than before, or so it seemed.
As he walked out of that room, Sanders knew this wasn’t just another day at work.
He pulled out some tissue paper and wiped off the sweat from his brow – why was he even sweating in this subterranean ice cold dungeon of an office?
Throwing the tissue away, he looked around at his team, analysing their reports. They had been at this for quite a few weeks now: the girl said the same thing over and over – same answers, same expressions, same cold ice blue eyes. There was something unforgiving in those eyes, something you don’t see in an 18 year old – something that was very very wrong. But what was it?
This girl had been found sitting in a car alone outside a museum, looking at the people go by. No one knew how the car got there, or when – camera footage showed the car appearing out of thin air – and no one knew who she was or where she was from. There was no Eva anyone knew about, and the most unnerving thing about her, was that every word she said sent a chill down your spine – almost a loving embracing chill, but a cold one nevertheless.
Along with her in the trunk of her car was a metal trunk of sorts, hollow, with something inside – there were noises coming out – but no amount of force could crack it open. There wasn’t even a single scratch, and the experts they’d brought in couldn’t even tell what this metal was. But when the box was near the girl, anywhere close, even through walls – you could see that somehow, she knew.
Who was this girl?
And why was he still sweating?