Bora looked surprised. “You want to file a report?”
“I do.”
“What’s changed?”
Dahye thought about the previous night. Her sister’s body had been so cold. She closed her eyes and suddenly she was Eunhye, standing on the glistening beams of the bridge, her feet slipping as the water rushed underneath her. Her throat was tight with terror. She knew what Eunhye’s last thought had been: She had wondered what Jihoon was doing, if he even cared. If, when he learned the news, he would feel sorry.
Dahye opened her eyes. “Nothing,” she said softly. “You were right: They can’t keep getting away with this.”
+
The lights in the police station were harsh. In the center of the room was a bench, and behind it, a row of chairs in which a woman and a young girl, presumably her daughter, were seated. The girl looked at Dahye and Bora as they entered, her stockinged feet bouncing up and down.
At the front desk were two young officers, both male.
“Hello,” Dahye said, approaching them timidly. “We’re here to file a police report?”
The taller of the two officers handed her a sheet of paper. “Fill this out,” he instructed. “There are pens over there.” He pointed. “When you’re finished, you can bring it back to me. I’ll need some ID as well.”
Bora nudged Dahye toward the bench. They sat. Bora held out a pen to her, and Dahye took it. The room was silent except for her scribbling and the occasionalwhooshas the girl behind them continued to kick at the empty air. Dahye filled out her contact information, then stopped at the first question. She read the line again.
If applicable, what is your relationship to the suspect/victim?
She wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Ex-girlfriend, she wrote, then crossed it out. Friend? That wasn’t right, either. She started writing acquaintance, but halfway through, changed her mind.
Provide a detailed account of the events leading up to the incident, including any relevant times, locations, and individuals involved.
Her palms began to sweat. Dahye put the pen down and wiped them on her thighs.
“Just leave it blank,” Bora murmured from over her shoulder. Dahye hadn’t realized Bora was watching so closely. Suddenly, she felt naked. She turned slightly so Bora couldn’t see the rest of the form and hurriedly filled it out. When she was done, she went back to the desk. The taller officer they had spoken to earlier was gone. The remaining officer reached out to take the paper, but Dahye deliberately moved her hand so that it was out of his reach.
“I have some questions,” she said. “Is there … somebody I can talk to?”
“If you have questions regarding the form, I’m happy to talk you through it,” the officer said.
“The questions aren’t about the form.”
“Then …?”
“I was hoping to talk to someone in charge,” Dahye said nervously. “Like a senior officer?”
“I can check,” he said, though he seemed irritated. He opened the door and disappeared.
The girl was still bouncing. The repeated squeaking from her chair was making Dahye’s head hurt.
“What questions do you have?” Bora whispered.
Dahye shrugged.
“If they’re not questions about the form, what is it about? About Hyukjoon? Or …”
“Bora, I—”
“You can tell me. Maybe there’s some way I can help?”
Dahye’s throat burned. Something awful was trying to claw out from her esophagus, some terrible meanness that she was going to regret.
The door opened, and the officer poked his head out. “Inspector Kang said he can speak to you for a few minutes, if that will be helpful?”