History Determined

            I could hear my sneakers tapping against the ceramic tiles beneath my feet as my legs quivered with anticipation. Keys clanged against the industrial bench at each downward tremble of my foot and I visualized falling coins as I listened to the sharp pattern of taps. The office door creaked open, letting a girl about my age in with a small child, and then slammed closed with enough force to disrupt the smooth rhythm of my keys. A little girl, less than three years old, burst into a whaling fit at the shock of a sudden sharp noise and her young mother consoled her. They walked away from me; choosing to rest comfortably in the corner near a tattered bookshelf. A bearded, teen-aged man sneezed and the pale face of the little girl glared at him through the straw-like hair that lay tattered and matted over her glossy brown eyes.

I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees, checked my watch, and ran my fingers into the dark curls of my unkempt hair. I felt the grease and dirt settle under my nails as I gripped down and pulled clumps of texture into my fists. Things were not going the way I envisioned them; I knew it would be difficult, but I had not anticipated the majority of the events since arriving. At 16, I should not have to worry about these things, and I should not have to be sitting here. The weight of the world continued to press down and my eyes grew damp, so I forced them shut with frustration.

            “Raleigh.” A voice belted out from behind a pane of bulletproof glass fifty feet in front of me. I raised my head and drew in a ragged breath before standing to stride the tiles and accept my judgment. “Through the door.” The voice cut me short as the stout, homely woman behind the counter pointed to my right, indicating a steel-frame security door. A click followed a raspy beep, and I pulled hard on the handle. The hallway beyond the metal door was poorly lit, missing every other light or so, and a gust of wind urged me forward as my exit vacated behind me. I could not force back my frustration now and fear filled my eyes and burned down my face as I searched for an indication of where to go.

            “Raleigh Nolan?” a sweet voice cooed from three doors down, “this way please.” I paced my steps towards the now vacant door and the tall redheaded woman that had just been standing in it. Her hair had flowed down in loose curls around her green eyes and pale, freckled skin. In just a brief moment, I noticed the deep blue of her blouse and the way it made her eyes explode with color. I drew in my breath again, and held it, as I rounded the corner through a weak wooden frame into a small office.

“You look a lot like my mom.” I stated, walking hesitantly towards a chair at the far end of a linoleum-wrapped plywood desk. “She’s not very tall though.” I took a seat and shoved my fists into my eyes, scrubbing away my emotion. “How tall is she, your mom?” The coo flowed across the desk and settled the nerves tensing up in my face and arms. I relaxed slightly against the back of the stained plastic chair and winced at the moans in the material as it struggled to hold under my weight. “I don’t know exactly. She is not as tall as you.” Her face was softer than the other ones; she seemed to care why I was here.

“Raleigh, do you know why you are meeting with me today?” I realized that she was not being nice to me; she was actually treating me like a child. The tension revitalized my body and I pulled my legs up onto the chair and embraced them as I made every effort to avoid glaring. “You all think that I’m a strange runaway and that I’m crazy. You people seem determined to prove that I’m insane.” As difficult as it was to hide my abhorrence at the situation I found myself in, it was significantly more trying to keep that distain from my trembling voice. “Now, you know that is not true.” She seemed offended by my accusations. “Then why am I here?”

The thin metal hubs protecting the bottoms of the poles supporting her chair seared back slowly, stripping away my resolve as it went. The warped sapphire plastic resounded in protest as the chair connected with the wall and the woman stood.

Her soft eyes fell onto a tan folder and she flipped through a few pages before glancing back at me shortly and then returning to her worn memorandums. “There are no records of you before the last three months. You simply appeared out of nowhere claiming to have a secret mission; a mission you refuse to share with the federal government. In a time when terrorist threats are a serious concern in our country I am sure you can see why this is a concern.” Her eyes lost their warmth and their green venom filled me as she stared me down across the desk. “Tell me your story, Raleigh.” I returned her gaze and met her icy glare with my own. “No.” “Why?” “It is not for you to know.”

The tan cardstock of the folder sent an echo through the vacant hall outside when she slapped it against the cracked linoleum. “Just tell me who you are!” Her patience began to show signs of slipping; I was not a stranger to this. “Tell me who you are, we will find your parents, and then you can go home. Why is that difficult to understand?” I imagined my emerald eyes glistening, sparkling and shining in an intimidating fashion. “It is not for you to know. You would never understand.” A tear caressed the outer side of my cheek as I allowed my emotions to slip through unabated for the first time since the commencement of this encounter. “Nothing that I tell you will seem real or plausible; nothing I say will change that you are keeping me here.” “There is only one way to know for sure. You are a brilliant boy, I can tell just looking at you, but in all of your brilliance you have neglected to understand the only way out of here is to talk.”

So, I talked. What story would I tell? Surely, the truth would be unimaginable. Perhaps I would win them over with charisma, but it was more likely that they would lock me deeper into this impenetrable hole until I faded away myself.