Looking
I settled into a corner of the hall, leaning my head against the brick wall. The light penetrating from the high windows illuminated a woman wiping her daughter’s nose. My body ached, craving to do the same. A little act filled with love. Just to know… I lay down on the tarp and cried myself to sleep.
It was pitch black. A wheezing sound of even breaths rustled next to my ear. I jumped. Snoring further away, mumbling somewhere. I remembered where I was. A prisoner in my own city, ‘taken in’ by the treacherous army ‘for my own protection.’ Yearning for my daughter, unsure where she was… I didn’t allow myself to finish the thought. I rolled myself back into my jacket, hoping to keep all the warmth I could. The door screeched. A wide beam of light. Boots stomping. The child next to me started crying. The mother whispered something soothing into her daughter’s ear, cocooned in her mother’s embrace. I imitated her position but had no one to cocoon, to protect.
They called out a name. Three, four children were crying now, rustling noises, coughing. Someone barked, ‘Just go! It’s not as if you can hide in here.’ I realised they were calling my name.
It seemed all the children were awake now and crying. One woman had jumped up, ready to scream. Mina with the pixie haircut was up in a flash, putting her hand on the woman’s mouth, pulling her down on the mat, whispering something in her ear. I stood up and followed the boots outside. The sky was filled with stars, clear, icy.
They marched me across the yard, each holding me by an elbow. I entered the same office I’d been in earlier, ages ago. When I’d thought I was here to find my family. When the Commander promised he’d look for them. Instead, led me to that awful hall.
The office was lit by a desk lamp, illuminating the jaw and mouth of the Commander sitting at his desk. He had a five o’clock shadow now, but I was thrilled by the sly smile on his mouth. A sign of good news, I hoped. He pointed at the chair across from him. I sat down, rubbed my upper arms.
‘Thanks so much. How can I …?’
His eyes widened with fake indignation. ‘I’m offended!’ His mouth couldn’t help but dissolve in a lustful twitch. ‘I want to help citizens loyal to their motherland. I overstepped my authority today, but it was for a worthy cause.’ His nostrils quivered. ‘For a beautiful lady.’
‘Thank you,’ I rubbed my arms again, unsure where to look.
He came around from his desk and sat on the armrest of my chair. The chair almost tipped over. I dropped my arms into my lap. He leant over me and started rubbing my forearms. ‘Cold?’ he whispered. The smell of cologne was faint, overtaken by sweat and alcohol.
‘No,’ I managed to press out between my teeth. My body was rigid.
‘All I need is a little thank you, that’s all.’ He breathed into my neck.
I resisted the urge to slap him.
‘Thank you,’ I repeated, then asked, ‘Where’s my family?’
I pretended I wasn’t bothered by his roaming hand.
‘They’re all good, healthy, happy.’
Thank God!
The officer’s hand was inside my shirt, his breathing becoming heavier. His body was leaning against my shoulder. I had trouble staying upright in my chair. I didn’t know what to do. His body was now completely on me, one hand in my shirt, the other unzipping my pants. I pushed him back to gasp for air. He grabbed me under the arms and lifted me out of the chair, pressed me against his desk. The lamp fell to the floor. He pulled my pants down and threw himself on me.
‘Where’s my daughter?’ My voice was shaky.
‘Shsh, later,’ he wheezed.
I tried to transport myself into my garden where I picked flowers for the vase Amina gave me for my first Mother’s Day. I needed to make sure I picked different colours, included a few long stems of rosemary to mix the green with the colours of the roses and lilies. I tried not to register the hard surface of the desk, how my head bumped against the wood, how my legs were pulled apart like a doll’s. There was a nail drilling into my hip. The pounding drilled the nail deeper and deeper into my skin. Despite the pain, I tried to pretend it wasn’t me who was splayed on the desk. I simply waited for this scene to be over, focussing on my imaginary flower arrangement.
After his last grunt, I asked again, ‘Where’s my family?’
He withdrew from me and huffed, ‘They’re safe.’
The lamp pointed to the ceiling and caught a spiderweb in the corner. I had trouble finding my underwear.
He picked up the lamp from the floor and reinstated it in its place. ‘They’re all gone to Tuzla.’
I said a silent prayer of thanks. Tuzla meant safety, freedom. I grabbed the remainder of the clothes from the floor. He seized me by the arm as I pushed down the door handle.
‘Hey, why the hurry?’ He put an arm around my waist. ‘Where are you going?’
The smell of cologne was completely gone. He was all sweat and sperm. I swallowed the sick rising in me and looked up at him.
‘To Tuzla!’
He smiled. The crown on his left molar caught the light and twinkled. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s far too dangerous out there. I’ll keep you safe until the roads clear.’ He stroked my cheek. I resisted biting him.
Once I was outside, I threw up, expelling the pollution and invasion, mixed with the bile of my pain.
Back in the hall on my tarp, I couldn’t sleep. My hip hurt. The protruding nail had cut my skin open.
Made worse the next night.
Vahida Berberovic is a storyteller who teaches English and Communications in Sydney, Australia. She is a refugee from Bosnia, and her writing investigates big themes in the small detail of the lives of people like herself. She has written two novels, two novellas and several short stories. She has been awarded an international writing residency at the Vermont Studio Center and a writing residency at the Varuna Writers’ House in the Blue Mountains. Her fiction and poetry have been published in literary magazines, most recently in The Writers’ Journal, Cape Magazine, Academy of the Heart and Mind, Down in the Dirt, Quail Bell and Ariel Chart. Her re-imagining of the tale of Snow White is featured in the anthology Women of Myth. Her novel Piggy Tails will be published by WestWords Books in 2026.