Adagio
ReverseSide
How do you justify the use of underage girls to fight terrorism? Isn't that the same thing as using child soldiers?
Not at all. I think you'll find that our girls have developed normally – and are not stunted emotionally. We take care of them.
Then you won't mind if I go take a look?
Fine.
Henrietta often goes for tests at the psychiatric ward. The doctor there is named Bocelli. He often asks her questions about her memories. She always answers the best she can. She knows that he has the power to decide her fate. So she answers honestly. Do you remember him? Yes. Do you know this story? No. One day, the doctor asks her a different question than usual. He asks her about what she likes. Henrietta takes a while to think.
She doesn't like many things. She does not have many dislikes either. But what few things she likes, she likes them quite a bit. More than a bit.
She likes to read stories. She enjoys imagining kings and queens and knights wandering lands she's never heard of. Sometimes she imagines that she is there, in far off lands, discovering new things and bringing old things with her. She likes stories with happy endings. They make her smile. But she never gets to read much. There is always something else that she needs to do.
Henrietta likes operas with sad endings. They make her feel more alive somehow. Once, she asked Claes why she felt that way. Claes had tried to explain, but only one word stuck in Henrietta's mind: catharsis. Henrietta still doesn't know what it means, but she knows that she likes tragic operas. She thinks that it is because the first opera she can remember seeing was extremely sorrowful. It had been about a woman who loved a man so much that she took her own life instead of his. Henrietta likes the idea of this. She thinks that this would be a good way to die.
Henrietta likes warm drinks. When she drinks them, it feels as though there is something special inside her. It warms her from within. It calms her. Her favourite was green tea. She knows it isn't expensive, but it is still her favourite. The agency never had green tea though. She could only get it if she wasn't in the agency compound. Maybe that was why she likes it so much. It was special, rare. Henrietta thinks that there are other reasons why she likes hot drinks so much, but she kept those thoughts to herself.
Henrietta plays the violin. Sometimes she likes to play it, sometimes she doesn't. It depends. Whenever she plays a piece, she plays it slow, no matter how fast it was supposed to be. She liked the feeling of the strings vibrating under her fingers. She likes the sounds she can make; likes the way single notes can combine to make something more. But she always feels strange holding her violin. To her, it is very uncomfortable. Her hands are not used to it. She considers it is much easier to hold a rifle. Even so, Jose had given her the violin, and so she keeps playing it. She listens anxiously for his approval every time she performs for him. He likes her to play, so she does.
Henrietta likes many things. Some things she likes more than others. There is something she likes above all other things, however. That thing is a person, her handler Jose. She likes the way he smiles at her whenever she plays the violin for him. She likes the fact that he always puts no sugar in his tea, but always puts too much in hers. She likes how he adjusts his tie just before entering an opera house with her. She especially likes how the sides of his eyes crinkle when he is giving her a book (at first she cannot tell if he is happy or sorrowful, but then he always smiles, and she knows that he is happy). She likes anything and everything about him.
Henrietta wonders if this is love.
So she answers the doctor, truthfully. She tells him she likes happy stories, sad plays, warm drinks and the violin. He nods, seemingly content. Henrietta is happy, too. She is happy because her greatest secret remains hidden – without having to lie, she has managed to conceal it. She didn't like Jose.
She loved him.
Are you satisfied now? She has dreams and wants, just like everyone else.
Of course not! How can a girl find love isolated like this?
Eight-year olds have no need for love, man! I thought that a reporter would understand this.
I think you'll be surprised at what a young girl needs.
AN: By request, here's a fluffy-ish story involving Henrietta, Jose, and a doctor.
The voice is one I have little-to-no experience in using, so feedback would be appreciated.