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Surviving To Life — Chapter XXII
I felt myself floating as a genie-like figure of a man with two tiny horns embedded in his forehead gently took my hand.
“Inspector, Sir, she says she is going to box me in my face, and she handcuffs Rina to that bench. What did she do?” Janice blurted out like bits of news on a bulletin board.
“What handcuffs?” he inquired, commanding attention, holding up my hands.
I stood up, rubbing my wrist, which was red from twisting it, trying to get free.
He examined my hands, furled and unfurled his brows, then eyed the officer in atrocity and demanded, “What was she brought in for?”
“Sgt. Wilson bought her in?” the policewoman replied, her eyes tangled in a ‘wait until I catch you outside gal’ brawl with Janice.
“She didn’t do anything. She is only twelve years old,” Janice cried out calmly and respectfully. “And she says she is going to box me, Sir,” continuing in her best English.
“Where did she come from?” the Inspector continued his cross-examination, hiding his outrage at his…
