We had finally arrived.
The street was narrow, sunken beneath the city like a forgotten artery.
Above us, crumbling apartments leaned like crooked teeth.
The noise was unbearable—blaring music, drunken yelling, shattered glass, and laughter far too loud to be innocent.
What is this place? And that Magda… how is she not afraid? Why is she dealing with these people?
But she was already out of the car… without hesitation, as always.
The sharp sound of her heels against the damp asphalt turned more than a few heads.
I followed, hesitantly.
The driver stayed in his seat, speaking quickly, as if he couldn't wait to leave:
— "Madam, the door's right in front of you. Hold down the button under the fake lock. It'll open."
He drove off before she could ask anything.
Magda grabbed my arm.
I looked back, watching the last flicker of the car's taillights disappear into the night.
She, on the other hand, didn't look back once.
We stood before a heavy iron door.
A narrow hallway stretched beyond it—cold, sterile, unwelcoming.
At the far end… another door.
Magda knocked—calm, composed.
A small security window slid open, high up—too high to see who was behind it.
No one spoke.
Magda said quietly,
— "I'm Magda. The girl is with me."
A shadow moved behind the glass.
A moment's pause… then the door creaked open.
We stepped inside.
The man who opened the door walked ahead of us silently.
But when I caught his face… I froze.
I knew him. The glasses. The look.
He was there that day.
He was one of them.
Without realizing it, I whispered,
— "You?"
Magda didn't even turn.
— "It's not like you ever knew him," she said flatly.
My heart pounded.
If he was one of them, then the driver was too.
That meant… they were the ones who called us here from the start.
But… why now?
The man gestured politely for us to follow, never meeting my eyes.
He was avoiding me.
I narrowed my gaze at him, slowly…
His mouth twitched, like he was holding back a laugh.
Then he shut the door behind us.
Inside… it was another world—elegance where decay should've been.
A high ceiling, polished floors, velvet chairs.
A grand desk sat at the far end like a throne.
Magda sat without waiting and gestured for me to sit beside her.
But I chose the couch across from her.
My knees were shaking.
On the table: juice, water, sweets.
She poured herself a glass of water and downed it in one go.
She didn't even ask if I wanted any.
Typical.
A side door opened ,.
And he walked in.
The boss.
His mere presence changed the air.
Heavier.
His eyes were blank.
His coldness didn't just freeze the room—it emptied it.
He said calmly,
— "Hello."
Magda stood.
He motioned for her to sit again.
Even now, he didn't look at me, though my eyes never left him.
Why are we here? What does he want from her?
Magda spoke in her usual clipped, business-like tone:
— "We won't take long. Everything's in place. What you wanted… is here. As for the official paperwork, it should've been filed earlier."
He didn't respond at first.
Then, coldly:
— "I want the file."
She opened her bag and pulled out a single sheet, placing it in front of him.
Mikael raised an eyebrow, amused:
— "This is the file?"
His voice was quiet… but it cut deep.
Magda hesitated:
— "They're from another orphanage. It burned down… this is all they have."
Then I understood.
She was talking about me.
I was "they."
Before I could even process it, Mikael slammed his palm on the table:
— "Done."
My heart jumped.
Then he called out,
— "Bill… come in."
A man entered, carrying a box.
He handed it to Magda with gentle care:
— "This one's better. Easier to use."
I leaned forward, trying to see inside…
But Magda snapped it shut before I could.
Bill turned to me with a kind smile:
— "You're welcome to have something, little."
But Magda cut him off, sharp:
— "No. She's fine."
I echoed without thinking:
— "No,I'm fine..… thank you."
Then I stood.
Bill looked at me in mild surprise.
Then he smiled…
A melting smile, the kind that only appears when someone's kindness is almost too much to bear.
I asked hesitantly:
— "Can I ask a question?"
But Magda didn't even turn her head. Her voice was firm, final:
— "You can pick her up tomorrow evening. I'll have filed the request with the municipality by then."
Mikael spoke again, still not looking at me:
— "Do you do this with everyone?"
Bill answered softly:
— "No, ma'am. Because usually… we're already gone by then."
And then I realized.
I was the reason we were here.
I was the deal.
I was the one from her phone calls.
I was the exchange.
And yet…
I wasn't afraid.
Magda stood.
"I have other matters to attend to," she said.
Bill tilted his head slightly, asking,
— "Are they matters we can discuss now… or personal ones?"
He knew.
It wasn't just about the box — she had something else in mind.
Money. Maybe more than that.
But all she said, barely above a whisper, was:
— "I just... I need a paper."
She scribbled some numbers quickly, then flipped the paper and started writing something else—this time, slower, in a hesitant hand. Her hand trembled. She whispered: — "Leave this message… along with what's required here."
Bill took the paper and offered a dry smile: — "Understood."
Magda picked up the box and asked: — "Is morning a good time?"
Bill replied calmly: — "I don't think so."
But she insisted: — "She has her things… and friends to say goodbye to."
Something stirred inside me. Fear. Conflict. I didn't know why, but suddenly I said: — "I don't want to!"
Everyone was surprised. Bill said: — "Huh? But she said you agreed to the adoption."
I quickly replied: — "I meant… I don't want to go with her."
I gave it all up. Maybe I'd seem ungrateful, or selfish… But I just don't want to go back to that place.
Magda's face twisted: — "What do you mean?"
I looked at Bill, then at Mikael. I thought to myself: Maybe… I believe you won't hurt me.
And for the first time… I let things be. I shut my eyes tightly. Took a long breath. Yes. This is what I feel.
Suddenly, Mikael said: — "Good, little one. That's actually helpful. She must have said goodbye already… she knows taking you might earn her something."
Magda said, eyes wide and sharp: — "But… you won't see them again."
Their faces flashed in my mind… All of them. I'm sorry, Mia… Is this really the end? Is this how our war ends?
I stepped back to the sofa and sat slowly. Then I took off my shoes.
Magda asked in confusion: — "What are you doing?"
I still wore my long, old socks—where I had hidden… …the scissors that had dug into my flesh. I gripped the shoes tightly for a moment. Then I thought, maybe this is my chance. I don't know if I'll survive… but there's no harm in trying. Hell offers two doors, after all.
I handed her the shoes.
— "These are Mia's shoes. She lent them to me… because I lost mine. Please, return them to her."
Magda looked uncomfortable. The grown-ups' eyes unsettled her. She took the shoes without looking at me.
She muttered, heading toward the door: — "Fine… I'll go. We'll fix the paperwork later. I'll fax you the adoption documents."
She rushed out. But her steps paused behind the closed door.
I stared at the door.
Bill, trying to ease the tension, said: — "It's a lot, huh?"
I looked at him. — "Sorry, sir… but what am I supposed to do here?"
Mikael stepped forward: — "So… you're still not sure why you're here?"
He raised his brows, as if hinting at something. A flicker of doubt… I remembered the gun. Wait—did they know? How? I thought they had plenty of them. Wouldn't even notice.
Bill said in English, light-heartedly: — "Boss… don't be like that. She's bold, but she's still a kid. Look at her… she's shaking."
Mikael smiled, then stood: — "Don't worry. Just… get ready to leave." Then he paused: — "But you need to clean that wound on your foot."
Bill came closer and said gently: — "Let me see it."
I stepped back a little: — "It's nothing…"
But he lifted me up and placed me gently on the sofa.
I said, shyly: — "Sorry…"
Then I pulled off the sock. The scissors were there, their tip buried lightly in my skin… a faint bleed.
Bill gasped: — "Oh my God…"
I looked at Mikael, embarrassed: — "Uh… I thought I might need them… to cut something…"
Mikael glanced at Bill as he headed out and said: — "Let's get ready."
Then added in English, half-joking: — "Wow… I'm starting to second-guess this adoption decision."
Bill chuckled: — "I think it's exciting. She's cute… just don't be too serious with a child."
He took me to another room, cleaned the wound, and told me to rest. I pointed at the beret and the scarf hanging on the wall.
Bill smiled and said: — "Come on… get some rest....."