That night was full of fun, yet laced with a certain melancholy. It's needless to say that I finally got to know Inzali better. Many truths were revealed, and many tears were shed as some of my never-ending questions were answered—well, almost.
What I learned about Inzali made me love her even more. I needed that—someone I could truly confess to. Our conversation gave me faith in my situation, making me realize that things weren't as bad as I once thought. So much of what we talked about made me reflect on my attitude toward others and the direct consequences it had on those around me. She showed me the path to change and where I could start to improve.
She told me how she arrived at Némless and why she decided to build an orphanage. Inzali asked me a million questions about myself: Was I happy with them? What were my dreams? What did I want to become when I grew up? Questions nobody had asked me since I arrived here—perhaps because I was much older than the rest of the kids.
Deep down, I knew this, but I just wanted to be treated like the rest. I wanted to be praised when I did things right, to have people acknowledge my daily accomplishments and celebrate them with me.
For the first time, Inzali revealed that she had a daughter called Rhéa who left home two years ago to attend one of the most prestigious universities in Grand Central – The richest country in the world, where she studied clinical medicine. The reason she chose to study so far from home was because her university had the best programs in "Carcinogenic Research." Later in our conversation, Inzali briefly mentioned that most of her family had died from cancer or other chronic illnesses.
Rhéa, was just 3 years older than me. Yet, she left home to pursue her education, driven to help her mother. I remember feeling a bitter taste in my throat when I realized how far I was from being like her—neither in ambition nor in willpower.
I could only imagine what Rhéa was like based on what Inzali had told me. Damn it, that girl was the real deal. At her 17, she was admitted to the best university in the country. Despite the whole world being open to her, she chose to prioritize her family and dedicated her youth to that noble cause. The only question that lingered in my mind was: What had I achieved? What was I supposed to do with my life? Where would I be in two years? Only bad and silly examples came to mind.
Rhéa was also the reason for Inzali's absence. According to the police and her close friends, Rhéa went missing over a 3 months ago and had disappeared without a trace. When Inzali told me, she kept smiling, reassuring me that everything would be fine. But I could see the terror in her eyes. I knew she was trying to reassure herself, though I wasn't in the right place to comment on that.
Our conversation had its highs and lows. Sometimes we laughed, other times we spent minutes in silence. As the sun began to rise, it was already 6 a.m. Inzali was about to leave when I grabbed her hand and looked her in the eyes, then asked her about what happened to me before I arrived at the orphanage.
I'm not sure why, but finally, after half a year, she broke the silence and told me this: "I know what you're looking for, and I understand that you want to know, that you need answers. You have every right to know about yourself, but… You're like a daughter to me… To us. But neither I nor Ilona have the right to keep you from the truth, no matter how bitter and heartbreaking it may be for us to see you suffer because of it."
As she said this, she took my hand and gave me a key—the same key I used to break into their office. I could see the effort it took to hold back her tears, as though she regretted what she had just done.
She stood up and was about to leave my room, then added, "You'll find everything in the black folder with the label '1024.' That's all we have… Whatever you find there… I want you to know, that whenever you need me, I'll be there for you..."
10th July: The next day, I woke up super late as the afternoon sun streamed through the window. My mood ricocheted between feeling low and lower. Inzali's last words were stuck in my head, and I felt almost scared to return to the office, even though I had finally gotten the official permission, something that I had waited for so long.
I had no energy or motivation to do anything. I turned on the television and spent the whole day flipping through channels, as if somehow it would answer the main question of the day—Should I return to the office or abandon the idea altogether?
11th July: I was still under the weight of my last conversation with Inzali, but I had finally made up my mind. I decided to go to the office room after midnight.
When the moon rose above the clouds, I sat on the roof, watching them collide with the blood-red moon. The idea of going downstairs felt like pressure building inside me. The mere thought of approaching the office door terrified me. I knew that if I went there, there would be no turning back, and my life would never be the same. Something inside me kept warning me to renounce. Before I realized it, it was past midnight, and I was standing before the red door, my hand on the doorknob. With a slight push, the door creaked open, sending a chill down my spine, like the cry of a dying animal.
I took a step, then another. It felt as though I was entering the Devil's den, walking through the doorway.
In the darkroom, even the ticking of the clock felt relaxed, like the heartbeat of a resting body. The air moved like cool water, and the scent of Ilona's perfume mixed with the smell of old wood, somehow reassuring me.
I began searching for the file Inzali had mentioned, reading through anything that might be related to me. Nothing stood out until I reached the very bottom of the pile. Beneath invoices and food expenses, I finally found what I was looking for—a thin binder with the label "1024."
It took me a while to open it, as Inzali's warning kept echoing in my mind.
The first page was my patient form. Most of the valuable information, such as my name, surname, date of birth, and parents, were left blank or marked as unknown. The next page was the report of "The Forensic and Physical Examination." At first glance, I told myself, "Nothing special, I've already seen most of these details from the others documents I found prior." I wish I was right.
The report contained a detailed description of my bruises, scratches, and grazes—marks that I had since healed, but I had never cared about their origins. I was shocked by how many of them were noted in that report.
I began checking every page, and to my disbelief, most of the marks were still visible, though barely. On the last page, there was some handwritten text: The patient was the victim of 1st-degree sexual assault.
I had read countless books and watched numerous films about violence, sexual harassment, and related topics during my rehab, but when you hold the evidence that "it" happened to your own body, there are no words to describe that feeling.
I stood frozen, re-reading the last paragraph over and over again, trying to convince myself it wasn't real. The longer I stared at it, the more it felt like staring into a black hole, one that was slowly consuming my sanity.
My hands released the paper, and I watched zig zagging in the mid-air until it touched the floor, then I heard a voice inside my head, a familiar cry: "Stop!" It was as if the memory of that night flooded my mind like water rushing into a sinking ship.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a barely lit room. I didn't remember where it was or why I was there. Someone was sitting on top of me, so heavy that I couldn't move.
I could hear his breathing, each inhale and exhale vibrating through my ears. He sucked at the air as it had suddenly become thick and was almost too difficult to draw in and then there was silence…