While I welcome her calm demeanor and prefer it to a hysterical outburst, I need to find a way to help her break out of this stunned shell that prohibits her from speaking at all. A nudge, that’s all she needs.
A little encouragement, bound by rules.
“I know you must be confused and scared,” I whisper, hunkering down in front of her, so we’re almost on the same eye level. “And you must have many, many questions. A lot of questions I won’t answer.”
Disappointment flutters across her pretty face and she takes a sharp breath as if she were about to talk back.
But I make sure to prevent that from happening. I raise my hand in front of her face, beckoning her to remain quiet, because I’m not finished.
“But I’m not an asshole,” I add, lowering my hand. “And to prove that to you, I’ll make you an offer.”
Her eyes flicker with interest and she presses her lips together in anticipation while she awaits my proposition.
I revel in her focused attention for a few more moments before I let her in on my thoughts. “One question. You’re allowed to ask one question. And I promise to give you an honest answer.”
Her eyes widen, and for a moment I’m not sure whether she’s shocked or happy.
I also don’t miss the quick glance she throws at the door behind my back, probably wondering whether it’s locked and whether she has a chance to flee if she only gets up on her feet fast enough.
I’d love to see her try.
Her lips move, as if she’s tasting the words before she dares saying them. I accommodated her wish to a degree, but I still presented her with a tough choice to make. Choosing only one question when you’re tortured by so many. I know I’m not exactly being fair to her. But this is not about being fair. Not at all.
She takes her time in picking just one of the many puzzles that occupy her mind. And I’m not disappointed when she finally parts her lips to phrase her well-thought-out question. It’s a simple one in wording, but the most profound she could ask.
“Who am I?”