MAJOR WARNINGS HERE. PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING.
Readers,
I want you to know that this next chapter will contain assault references. It is important to the story. But it is disturbing. Please read responsibly.
This is also a VERY long chapter. I debated about splitting it up. But, I think it flows well. Please watch the tags at the top of sections. That will help you keep things clear.
I also want to be clear about the cultural references in the story. I did research about a few of the details. But I want everyone to know that this is PURELY for story - there are no real associations here with terrorism. I probably got things wrong, language and culture wise. Forgive me - but I just wanted to get things written. And it is fanFICTION so that covers my mistakes, maybe.
As always, please review! Makes me so happy to hear from you!
Thanks
-Me.
There was no part of her that wanted to go to her debriefing. But she had to, for Lea. After the clothing debacle, Emma just wanted to run. Run away from the constant presence of people around her. Run away from the prying eyes of her family. Run away from the constant need to fight. Run away from the powerlessness. Run away from the constructed walls all around her.
But she couldn't. She was stuck.
So she spent the rest of the day until her briefing in her room. She had rushed in, thankful that no one had been "home" in the residence. But she'd still slammed the door to her room, closed the windows, and sat in the corner, telling herself to breathe until she calmed down enough to stop shaking. She'd heard a knock on her door, but she'd yelled at whoever was on the other side to leave her alone. When the door handle had started to turn anyway, she'd grabbed some decoration that someone else had picked out for her room – some glass vase with flowers in it – she'd thrown it as hard as possible against the door, where it shattered a warning to anyone else who might try to come in that she did not want anyone.
She knew she should wait for the debriefing. She knew she wasn't in the best place to recall the things she would have to not only remember but speak into the world to someone else.
But. Why infect tomorrow? Today was already ruined. And she'd cried and screamed and hated on herself enough that she'd entered into the traumatic bliss of emotional exhaustion. Why not relay information without emotion, which is what the agents would want to get the best intel.
So she'd left her room, making sure her face showed minimal signs of her breakdown. Still wearing the clothes that covered her entire body, she pulled her shoes on before finding her detail waiting and wondering whether she was going to go.
When she said she was ready, they pulled the car to the door. But someone must've told Henry's office, because he rushed over to her, but she'd blocked out the words and care in those words. Instead, she just shrugged the gentle hand from her shoulder, and mumbled something about just getting it over with, before brushing past him to get in the car. When he'd followed her to say something else, she'd quickly slammed the door in his face.
She couldn't deal with her mother – there was no way she could deal with him. She didn't know how to feel, how to think, much less how her feelings and thoughts converged into actually dealing with all the issues.
Instead, she found herself sitting in a small room, waiting for whatever would happen next. She thought she'd be more nervous. But instead, she felt nothing. Extreme pain and deep memories followed by a breakdown from embarrassment and humiliation had actually made the process, so far, painless.
Soon, two agents joined her. One man with a suit and a loose tie and a woman with a dress and a large clipboard. She was glad she didn't recognize them. Made the next part a bit easier. They started with their condolences and whatever else they felt they needed to tell her about talking about things that might be painful. They assured her that she could take a break whenever she needed, that she was there of her own volition, and that they just wanted to get all the information they could in order to conclude the case and bring justice to the situation. Emma had tried to hide her eyeroll. But then they started asking her questions. They alternated asking the questions, with the woman tending toward the questions from the sexual side of things. But Emma felt like a robot – spitting out answer after answer without feeling.
If she felt, the remembering would turn into memories. Spitting out answers without feeling kept her body from becoming part of the memory.
Man: Where were you when you were taken?
Emma: Walking around the corner from my school.
Man: How many attackers do you remember?
Emma: On that first day, there were three. One driver. Two who grabbed me.
Man: Do you know where they took you?
Emma: We drove for a while, then we got into a cargo plane. I don't know how long.
After a while of question after question, the agents offered her a refill on her water, which was still full. Emma declined, continuing to answer the questions.
Woman: After you watched the girl beheaded instead of you, where did you go and what happened?
Emma: It's hard to know exactly where I was taken when I was sold to someone else. I mean, I think I was sold. I know mal was said, and a number was given, but I don't remember the exact number right now.
Man: "Mal?"
Emma: Money. I know they talked about a price, and the guards seemed relieved once they were handing us off.
Woman: So both you and Lea were sold to the same person?
Emma: Yes.
Woman: What were you sold as?
Emma: I mean, mostly all the servant, menial tasks.
Man: Can you be specific?
Emma: I woke up in the morning, milked the goats, watered the animals, helped with meals, watched children, worked in the field, cleaned, any other tasks that were needing to be done. Basic stuff like sewing and mending, helping the women dress – helping with laundry. So much laundry. You can still see some of the callouses from the scrubbing. (pause). Is that what you were looking for?
Man: Yes.
Woman: You and Lea were in the same position? Menial, everyday tasks?
Emma: She assisted in the tasks most of the time.
Woman: And the other time?
Emma could feel the numbness wearing off, like frozen fingers beginning to burn as they warmed by the fire. "Can I take a break? I… I need to use the bathroom." She lied. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was already churning.
She walked into the bathroom, splashing her face with water, gripping the sides of the sink as she tried to calm herself. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. But she needed to. Not to just get it over with.
But they were looking for Lea. They were looking for her. And they needed her. She had to say something. It took them forever to bring her in to help them find her friend. She needed to stick this out.
She tried to psych herself up. Tell herself she was just getting through it. For Lea.
And she dried her face and went back to the room.
MCCORD INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT.
MCCORD: Ok, sorry about that. You kept pushing that water. (nervous laugh)
AGENT JON HARR. That's not a problem.
AGENT AUBREY THORP. We want you to feel as comfortable as possible, so however many breaks you need, please let us know. And it might help to wait a few days and take a breath before we keep…
MCCORD. No. I just want to get this over with.
A THORP. Very understandable. But if you change your mind at any time, please let us know.
MCCORD. Ok. But that's not going to happen. So what else do you want to know?
A HARR. We wanted to know how Lea's tasks compared to yours.
MCCORD. She did the chores, I mean, all of the things I did throughout the day. But she… I mean, Lea… she was an unofficial … eashiqa… what's the English word? Um… eashiqa… OH – mistress.
A THORP. So she was having an affair with …
MCCORD. No. No. That's not it. That's not… (pause). She was forced to have sex with him. Regularly.
A THORP. She was repeatedly raped throughout her captivity?
MCCORD. Yes.
A THORP. Were you also raped?
MCCORD. (PAUSE. AFFIRMATIVE HEAD NOD FROM MCCORD)
A THORP. Was it a repeated occurrence throughout your captivity as well?
MCCORD. (PAUSE) It happened multiple times. But it wasn't like Lea. (PAUSE) For her, it was just expected as part of what she did. Some nights she wouldn't come to bed. It was unofficially her job. Or whatever you call it. But with me, it was… not as frequent at all. Didn't happen until I was older. And more of a last minute thing. Heat of the moment thing. I don't know… Is that…?
A THORP. That answers our question. I'm sorry that it is such a difficult topic.
MCCORD. So what do you need to know to find Lea?
A HARR. We do want to work through this consecutively as much as possible. Establishing a timeline will allow us to trace and find the most information.
MCCORD. OK. So then I'll just go through it really fast. We were sold. Shitty things happened. We were, ugh, I can't remember the English word, but we didn't actually stay in one place. We moved throughout the desert at different times during the year, travelling to sell things, watering the flocks, what's the word? I can't remember?
A HARR. Do you mean "Nomadic?"
MCCORD. Maybe. I don't know.
A HARR. Do you know what areas you were in? (SHOWS MCCORD MAP. MCCORD IDENTIFIES PLACES. MAP INCLUDED IN REPORT.)
MCCORD. I recognize those towns. But, I can't be sure exactly. We weren't given any information other than it was time to go or time to stay. Anyway, I want you to find her. So when Isabelle came to find me, if you go to that building and then it's about thirty minutes … alshamal algharbiu… FUCK. Why can't I remember any fucking English words? It's…. Ugh.
A THORP. Emma, it's ok. Just take your time.
MCCORD. I can't take my time! I need to tell you so you can go find her. And I can't get the words out. Fuck. How are you supposed to find her without me telling you where to find her? And how are…
A HARR. Ms McCord, if you can just calm down a bit, we can explain our…
MCCORD. Why does no one seem to see the urgency in this? Why is there no one looking for her? Why did I have to wait so long to come in? Why didn't you do something?
A THORP. Emma, we are just as interested in finding the information we need to…
MCCORD. Bring Justice, I know. But that means finding her. And no one seems like they want the information to find HER!
A HARR. Ms McCord, we have some information that we do need from you.
MCCORD. Finally. What do you need from me? If you send agents to the place, OH the word is Northwest. NORTHWEST. Thirty minutes northwest from the place Isabelle found me. If you send a team there, you'll find her. That's where she was.
A HARR. We need your firsthand account about what happened to you during that time. We have searched the area you just described, we found a compound, but we did not find Lea.
MCCORD. That's where those pictures were from.
A THORP. What pictures?
MCCORD. Oh, nothing.
A HARR. Again, Ms McCord, we are doing our best. But right now, the more seeming insignificant information you can give us, the more chance we're able to connect and do our best to close this case.
MCCORD. Hey. Can you not call me that?
A HARR. I'm sorry, what would be better?
MCCORD. Emma.
A HARR. I apologize, Emma. I was just trying to be as professional as possible…
MCCORD. Oh, I know you were. Please don't be offended. But I'm still getting used to being called Emma again. Adding a Miss and the last name of the President just feels so stiff and doesn't feel like it's me.
A HARR. I understand. Thanks for explaining. I will try to remember.
MCCORD. Ok. So menial information that other people might think wasn't important?
A THORP: Timeline.
MCCORD. Ok. So it was probably a few months, maybe eight or nine months, after I watched the beheading that was supposed to be me. It was a few months after that that we were sold to Cyrus. From there, we just moved around the desert. Selling stuff at small towns. We weren't allowed to go into the towns. Even thought we were practically covered head to toe, they were still afraid that we were going to do something to try and escape. I mean, at least the first year or so. After that, it was just… how life was. I don't know, was that helpful?
A HARR. It was. When you were sold, was there any information that you heard or were given that seemed out of the ordinary?
MCCORD. The only thing I remember was that we were told what our backstory was to be.
A THORP. Backstory?
MCCORD. The story we would tell if anyone asked how we came to be in that position.
A HARR. Who instructed you about the backstory?
MCCORD. Amir, he was, oh, what do you call it, it was his job to make sure that we didn't die. That we had food and water. That when we got our periods, we had something, however minimal, to take care of it. He was the one who quote on quote operated on my hand when it got infected.
A THORP. He was the logistics guy?
MCCORD. Yeah. That sounds right. So Amir told us we were being sold. He wasn't kind by any chance, but I think it was his job to keep us alive. The other guards were cruel without reason all the time. Amir only in front of the camera and when he got angry would he beat us.
A THORP. Did that happen a lot?
MCCORD. Amir? No. The others? Yeah.
A HARR. We can come back to that in a minute. I just want us to stay on track. What was the backstory, and what was the need for it?
MCCORD. Well, after we went with Cyrus, he complained that I didn't work like the other girl. Eventually I found out from the children that the other girl was also a servant like me. And she'd been about the same age as I was, Twelve or thirteen, time moved differently there. But Lea and I heard Amir and Cyrus having an argument after the beheading video. I was still learning the language, but Lea explained that the girl who'd been beheaded instead of me – it was Cyrus' servant. And Amir had promised to pay Cyrus for her, but then stiffed him on the money. So they made a deal that instead of killing Lea and keeping me for however long they were supposed to, they would sell both of us to him. He'd get me for free instead of paying for the girl, and Cyrus would pay for Lea at a reduced price.
A HARR. So Amir was supposed to kill Lea and keep you?
MCCORD. Yes. He was supposed to kill Lea.
A THORP. Who told him that?
MCCORD. They got orders from a small cell phone. It came in. In English. Amir could understand English and speak only a bit. But they got their orders from someone who spoke English.
A HARR. Was there ever any indication of where that came from?
MCCORD. No.
A THORP. Ok. Amir was instructed to kill you?
MCCORD. Yes.
A THORP. Do you know why?
MCCORD. He said it was to get my Mom and Dad to resign.
A HARR. Do you know why they used…
MCCORD. The girl who was killed to look like me and not just kill me?
A HARR. I would've asked it less bluntly, but yes.
MCCORD. Amir thought he could save me and ransom me later on for money.
A HARR. Ransom you after your mom resigned from State and your Dad from the NSA?
MCCORD. Ha. Other Father. President.
A THORP. So they knew about…
MCCORD. They knew before anyone here knew, that's for sure.
A HARR. So they didn't kill you because they wanted a ransom. Is that who tried to send a ransom this last time?
MCCORD. No. It wasn't. Someone came to Cyrus one night. He was wearing all the things that everyone did, but Lea and I spotted skin like ours. He came to Cyrus, and he paid him for me. And not Lea.
A HARR. How much?
MCCORD. He bragged it was about 150,000 dollars in the US.
A HARR. So he took you to the compound.
MCCORD. Yes.
A HARR. Then what happened?
MCCORD. I was only there for a few weeks, I think.
A HARR. Did you see the …
MCCORD. Yeah. The guy. He was horrible. He was an American. Ex-Marine or something. He had a small team of guys, running the compound, if you could call it that. So we made that video – I didn't think anyone would see it. I don't know much about that time because… well, I was just in my cell the whole time. Are we almost done?
A THORP. Just a few more questions. And that's where Agent…
MCCORD. Isabelle. Yeah.
A THORP. In her report, she reported that you had been raped.
MCCORD. Yes.
A THORP. Can you tell us about that?
MCCORD. Really? Why? What does that help with finding Lea? She wasn't even there.
A HARR. You seem really on edge. Should we…
AGENT NOTES: MCCORD SEEMED GREATLY AGITATED. WE OFFERED A BREAK, WHICH WAS REFUSED.
MCCORD. What details. What do you want?
A THORP. Well, was that a one time thing that happened?
MCCORD. No. It's like every other part of the shitty story. It happened over and over. Those weeks were horrible. But by all means, let's keep talking about how I was raped over and over and over again, being taunted with how much money they were going to make from ransoming me. They laughed because they thought it was hilarious that they were going to get money for a ruined bitch. Is there anything else about the worst days of my life that you'd like to know? Anymore intimate details? I don't know how this is going to help with anything. Are you sure this isn't just a cruel joke? Oh, let's make the weird, deformed girl talk about how she was gangraped multiple times just because? Fuck this. I'm done. Fuck off.
(MCCORD STOOD UP, AGITATED, AND LEFT THE INTERVIEW ROOM.)
Elizabeth dropped the interview report. She couldn't see anything. The room spun. She tried to sit down, but she couldn't find the seat. Reaching out, she found the wall behind her. She slid down the wall, seeking solid ground underneath her. There was no time to try and find the trashcan. She threw up right next to where she sat. She set her head between her knees, willing her stomach to settle, but she threw up again, right in her lap. She couldn't think. She couldn't move. She couldn't do anything.
All she could think. All she could see. Were the words from the CIA Agent's interview. She shouldn't have read it. She promised Henry she wouldn't. He felt that there were things that would be said that Emma should have the chance to tell them herself. It wouldn't be fair to Emma to intrude on that.
Bess had convinced herself that she needed to read it because of how they had limited the people who had access to it – as many secure eyes on it as possible was the best, to maybe see insight that a smaller team would miss.
But there was no separating herself from this. She couldn't turn on the spy side of her, reading between lines or drawing dots. She couldn't do anything but see the words her baby had said. She had assumed, due to her work in counterintelligence, that bad things had happened. She'd seen Isabelle's report. She knew the road would be hard.
But was this road impossible? Elizabeth would never give up. But Elizabeth feared, as tears ran down her face, that Emma might not hold the hope that Elizabeth did.
How would they get through this? What was she supposed to do? What was the next step? What was the right next step? Was there a right step? What was…
Questions spun faster and faster through her head, until the spinning in her head matched the turning in her stomach and she begged herself to hold onto hope before it spun out of reach.
