“Name?”
“Zayn.” I bluntly replied.
“Zayn Harris. Am I right?” The man sitting across from me looked up from the file of papers he was holding.
“Damn right. How many more of these questions do we have?” I grunted. “You already have the file in front of you, it wouldn’t hurt to read it right?” I looked him in the eye. “We’d save lots of time.”
He ignored my question and proceeded to ask me more. “Age?” He spoke with his eyebrow raised.
“18.” I spoke with annoyance hinted in my voice. “How much longer do I have to stay in this room and answer your pointless questions?”
“If you keep asking me that, we can stay here all day if you’d like.” I slumped in my chair. It probably has been more than two hours of questioning, and we were getting nowhere. Two hours, and he had just asked me for my name. What kind of interrogation tactic is this? I shuffled uncomfortably in my chair.
I had silver metal cuffs around my wrists, and we were sitting in a soundproof room. The man flipped through the pages in the file, raking his eyes up and down the text written on the papers. “Could you at least remove these? They aren’t necessary.” I looked down at my sore wrists. They were slowly turning red, and I really felt the need to scratch my back.
“Not necessary?” He chuckled. “They wouldn’t be if you hadn’t punched one of the officers in the stomach.” I growled.
“It was an act of self-defence. The man was about to gag me and drag me here against my own will.” I rolled my eyes and started impatiently tapping my foot on the floor. The metal chair I was seated on didn’t feel comfortable on my soft, fragile bottom. At this point, even the floor looked more comfortable.
“Past jobs?” He continued. I looked at him. He had huge bags under his eyes, and he looked as if he didn’t want to be here.
“A murderer.” I joked. The man looked at me with the same expression he did when he asked for my name. “No? Not your kind of humour?”
“Past jobs?” He repeated, as if uninterested in my jokes.
“Normal ones. Convenience cashier, bakery cashier.” I went on with multiple other cashier jobs. None of them really lasted longer than I wanted them to last. They mostly lasted for about six to seven weeks before the owner decided I was too much of a disturbance in the store. The officer nodded slowly.
“Anything else?” It seemed like he expected something more. “Any that required illegal actions?” He looked me dead in the eye.
“If you’re asking me if I ever brought suspicious black bags around town to suspicious tattooed men, to receive largely suspicious amounts of money, yes.” I looked at him with bored eyes. “Thought you already knew that. You have my whole life history in your hands.” I tilted my head.
“Alright kid, just answer my questions. No additional comments are needed. I want to leave as much as you do.” He let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.
I smiled in victory as I saw a frown form on his face. “Siblings? Close family?” I looked at him.
“Family? That’s not something in my vocabulary. None.” I shrugged. I have been alone for nearly fourteen years. I learned to live on my own at a fairly young age. Escaping the grasp of any adult that would send me to an orphanage. I lived in an abandoned building just in the northside of the country. How did I find an abandoned building that wasn’t bring stripped down? I have no clue.
No one really took notice of me. I used to be under my aunt’s care, but when she took little notice of me and gave no attention to me, I became her servant. She treated me like I was her personal butler, cleaning up after each mess she made. I soon figured she wanted me to clean for her more than to keep her company. When I didn’t do as she told me to, she’d throw glass on the floor and have a huge tantrum like a four-year-old.
Hell, she didn’t even care if I got lost. Until I really did. I left the house without turning back. It was like one of those kids in the movies that leave their home, but eventually turn around because they realised they had zero chance loving on their own. But my case scenario was different than most. Instead of turning back and heading home, I fought that urge and kept going.
For the next few weeks, she put up posters on trees and street walls, like she was looking for a lost puppy. However, after those weeks, she gave up and stopped looking for me. Tore down each and every sign she put up and forgot about me. Just like the rest do. I ended up on the streets, until I found that abandoned apartment building in the northside. I lived there for much of my life and had a constant routine. A thief by night and a cashier by day. I struggled to find food, but whenever there were leftoves at my jobs, the employees wouldn’t hesitate to give them to me.
I smiled at the memories, but quickly brushed them out. Emotions weren’t in my vocabulary either.
He asked me a few more questions before there were three knocks on the door as it creaked open. I turned my head to the figure that entered the room and kept my eyes on him. The once tired officer sitting in front of me quickly stood up, giving the man a small bow before remaining in his standing position.
The man wore a formal business suit and had slicked back chocolate brown hair. He wore round glasses and had a relatively handsome face. “We’re done here. We found one for him.” He spoke in a low husky voice.
“Found one what?” I spoke, clearly agitated. The man glanced at me before smiling, revealing his teeth.
“A school.” I cocked my eyebrow and showed a disgusted face.
“You’re not sending me to that shit hole.” I crossed my arms as much as possible, despite the cuffs dangling from each of my wrists. “I object.” I closed my eyes and shifted my head to the side.
“You don’t have a choice.”
I never did.
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