"Path of flowers in despair."
6:20 p.m.,
Cursing the downpour and what's around: pupils reddened by the passage of it, a blush that descended to her cheeks. Terror had taken the place of her enthusiasm, her joy of life.
Like poppy flowers that still resisted, among the last gorse decimated by the bitter cold, she struggled against sleep.
And her dream in all this? Path of flowers in despair. She didn't want to give up, because letting go was not part of her customs, but right now she was doubting mainly because of her fear.
A fear linked to a single man whose first name she did not know. Yet, Maria could always and again feel the imprint of his touch.
She thought back to his strange interogation. For the thousandth time. Of his questions.
No doubt she had been so close to death.
The smell of cigarettes filled her lungs with tar and despite the hum of the car, the young woman perceived things as perfectly frozen in the twilight of the sunset.
Carlos was quiet behind the wheel. But the smoke that escaped from his mouth said a lot about his state of mind at the time.
When she had finally been able to get up after her most sinister interview, she hadn't hesitated for a second to contact the taxi driver after calling the cops to not avail.
Who would have thought she would need his help anytime soon?
At the first ring he had answered and when an hour later he had been at her house, the young woman had blurted out everything she felt in her traumatized heart. To a mere stranger that crossed her path but for an unknown reason, she trusted him. A gut feeling told her she could rely on him.
He had listened to her with a comforting silence and after a few phone calls, they were on their way again, because both of them knew that she would not spend another second in this studio after what had happened.
Carlos at the wheel wanted to reassure the young woman but he didn't know where to start.
It was that he did not understand the intentions of this intruder who had infiltrated the young lady's home since he had not, according to the words of the young lady, stolen anything but had simply threatened her. He glanced at the young woman in the rearview mirror and could only take pity on her when he noticed her eyes red with tears and emotion. For some mysterious reason, he liked this young lady who strongly resembled his daughter Carla of the same age, whose personality was practically the same. Both ambitious and having the joy of living was the first thing he noticed about her during their ride.
- Don't worry Miss you're safe now… and he added for the umpteenth time, I'm really sorry you had to go through this.
The young woman did not answer but her look of gratitude spoke for her.
- We are almost at the police station…
…
- Why didn't you call? asked an extremely thin man in his thirties who looked like a zombie with the large dark circles drawn on his face.
- I tried six times after my attack by contacting 911 but no one on the answering machine. It's as if the line was cut, replied Maria, trying to keep her composure , and I think...
But before she had time to continue and retort about the unreasonable way of listening to and handling the complaint of victims, the policeman said in a facetious tone as if he was reprimanding a child.
- And you say that a man assaulted you in your home? Yet pardon me but I don't see any marks on your skin if you know what I mean.
Shocked by these words, Maria could not believe her eyes. And as if it were normal, the policeman smiled as he grabbed a file from the wooden table around which they were sitting.
In the small room whose door read "chief complaints officer" in easily erasable ink, Carlos next to her on a small stool tried to re-explain the facts in a more severe tone but the man seemed to ignore him as he flipped through the file on the same table which seemed to be screaming under the weight of the endless paperwork.
A painful silence took place before the "zombie" policeman replied in a loud voice:
-Ah! There! Look what we mean by aggression!
And to their amazement, he showed them photographs of beaten women with a proud look on his face.
Maria looked down at the pictures and almost vomited at the degree of violence. In other circumstances, she would never have had this kind of reaction, and would have kept a part of professionalism in front of the atrocity of the human cruelty. This had been a big part of her job when she worked as an investigative journalist. But now her mind and emotions were not working the way she wanted them to and she couldn't help remembering that she could have ended up damaged or worse.
- Now you understand the absurdity of your request.
When she heard these words, something boiled inside her and as if it was the drop of water that spilled the glass, her rage exploded under the bewildered look of Carlos who had not left the eyes of the foul pictures.
- That's enough! You should do your job correctly ! I have never witnessed such a degree of amateurism in my 3-year career! I am the victim here! You think it's normal to just move into your new home and realize that someone has infiltrated your studio to threaten you! I want to speak with your superior right now!
A second silence fell in the small room to the left of the large cafeteria of the city's central police station. It was 6:20 p.m. but hardly anyone was present in the premises for a reason that was beyond her.
The policeman glared at the young woman before shouting:
- Simón! Then he rectified, "Police Officer Simón.
A few minutes later, a short man with eyebrows so thin that he didn't look like he had any from afar, ran up and opened the door wide.
- Yes, boss ? You called me ?
-Yes, can you drive these fools home before I get angry.This foreigner is talking nonsense, he said while stressing on the word "foreigner".
And he added towards Maria :
-Miss, I advise you not to waste time with the federal police who have many other files in progress please.
Tears of humiliation nearly rolled down the furrows of her puffy, tear-streaked cheeks, but she controlled herself. The man responsible for this nightmare she was living was right. The police were really special, or rather incompetent was the right qualification.
Carlos was this time the first to straighten up before patting the shoulder of the young woman, a gesture to show her that nothing was worth talking with these specimens.
And it was in this temperament that she left the police station completely powerless, humiliated and even worse than a few hours ago. An indescribable rage spreading to every part of her being made her whisper, "He's going to pay for it."
Summer will come back to kill the winter.