The Wavering Hawk [ENGLISH]

P15. Latifah

"Is there anything you need?"

I refused to speak. Instead, I raised my chin to look at the black mirror that I knew was double-sided. The swollen on my lips, bruised on my ribs, and wounds on my thighs, throbbed in pain as the memories of the previous session of interrogation resurfaced.

They surely did the proper procedure of the interrogation thoroughly: asking, mocking, kicking, punching, and torturing. Truly a pain in the neck. But what surprised me the most, was I had not surprised at all at how they reacted and anticipated me.

We were supposed to be on the same side. They shouldn't turn against me like this. But who am I talked into? I didn't even remember my complete identity.

"No...." I hissed at the pain it caused to my lips.

"I couldn't help you if you don't tell us anything." Latifah pleaded now. "If there anything—

"I am a Martian." I told her the first thing that I knew. I knew I had basic motor skills superior than her, I remembered something off with this body that even a simple punch would break my ribs and nothing can healed it.

"And?"

I vaguely remembered it, though. "I was a soldier ... but I don't remember who my superior was or regimen I was placed into."

Latifah sighed. That woman had subconscious habitual that kept repeated over times. She sighed when she at the end of the session that resulted nothing. Then she would left, letting the next and worse Martian to come and did some practical skills of interrogation.

While she was busy with her own devastation, I looked down at my new clothes. My previous clothes that looked more like a dirty old rag was disposed. It contained blood and this place was so sensitive about blood.

"I'm sorry, but we can never be too careful with blood. I can't take more risk." Latifah said on the first day of interrogation. "We're in Hadriah, after all."

Then I remembered. Omar also said before. There were disease; a plague, that contaminated soil and water. Hadriah was one of the worst case.

That was the last remaining memory I had with Omar. The last prove that there was someone named Omar that lived in the same cell as I was. That fact alone enough to send me on the edge of wrath and disappointment. But unlike before, no pain came out. It has been three days and the pain no longer came.

Rationally speaking, that was a good thing. But at the same time, it wasn't.

"Have you buried him?" I heard they did some investigation on his body. I wanted to protest, but if they could do something to make that disfigured vassal of him looked a bit better, I could do so much.

"Yes."

Another good thing.

After a long pause, I halted when something warm touched my hand. Looked down, it was Latifah's hand that wrapped mine. The warmth seeped through my skin and strangely pushed the air of my lungs. My chest, once again, struck by the very same pain. Memories by memories came and gone, showed me the latest events, started from when Omar died of protecting me.

I tried to let go of that hand, but somehow, she grabbed me tighter.

"My deepest condolence." She said. "I mean it."

That damn pain, suddenly came again. I let out my handcuffed wrists from her and this time, she didn't insist.

"We had collected data about him. Do you want to hear it?"

"No need. I've heard everything."

"He must be a good friend."

No, I gulped, felt the pain blocked my throat. I didn't want to hear that word anymore. "I ... barely know him...."