Chapter 63

                                    

                                          
YEAR 2015
Her little shoes had a noisy heel. She didn't hear their ticking against the quiet marbled stairway when she walked down to the conference room, her own thoughts too clamorous to let her hear anything else. 
Why not principle's office? 
She wondered. 
Never was she called by the principle before, and that too in the conference room where teachers held supposedly important meetings. She wondered if she had broken any rule. But that was unlikely. Even at the tender age of fifteen, she was more committed to the discipline than some of the most strictest teachers in the school. 
She briefly remembered how her white uniform socks were once drenched in rain. Despite her mother's warning she had wore the wet socks next day to school, refusing to wear the coloured ones piling in her room. Evidently the next day her mother had to take her to the clinic, her runny nose unstoppable. 
The memory of her mother left a stinging mark on her memory, it always did. It had been an year, but with passing time, she realised the void shall never be filled. She forced herself to calm down, no matter what changed now, it didn't matter, a sane living part of her was already dead. 
Denying to travel back to that lane of thought, she took a deep breathe, calming her nerves.
For a fleeting moment she thought she was going to be suspended from the school. 
Everyone was informed of her father's notorious businesses, too afraid of addressing it in public setting. Although in the corners of premises, the whispers lured. It was one of the reasons why she stayed alone all her life, only for what she possessed in each cell of her body, genes of a wrong man. The fact that a daughter of such dangerous criminal learnt in this school was a good enough reason for the committee to remove her out of the picture forever.
She knocked, her soft knuckles barely making a noise, but they heard. The principal in his fifties opened the door, welcoming her in with a soft smile. Even though the oddly welcoming gesture was enough to make her hesitate, she noticed several other things worthy of being afraid of. 
Mr. Shoah's smile faltered when he saw her taking a step back, scared at the sight inside room. "Beta Tara, look at me" She let her gaze back at him from the scary men in room,
"Trust me, there is nothing to be afraid of, come in" 
(beta: child)
For years she had respected Mr. Shoah,  His commitment to discipline and excellence had fascinated her. And so even when he didn't look like himself today she trusted him, reluctantly stepping inside.
Three people, all in black suits sharply watched her every movement, their gazes sweeping up and down her figure. Their professional stoic stances frightening. It was hard to distinguish but Tara deciphered one of them as a woman, who female or not was still matching her costume with her male partners. They looked hostile at first, but as soon as she took her first step in, their gazes softened, still yet watching her movements closely, only now with a little more pity, a little less malice. 
She hated the glimpse of compassion in the eyes of strangers. Not so long before she was met with the similar pitiful gazes lingering on her, wondering how this motherless child would survive to the womanhood all by herself. She didn't need anyone's sympathy anymore, it was all but a pestiferou0s offering she could do nothing with. 
"Here" Mr. Shoah gestured to the seat at the head of the table. 
She sat, extremely conscious of her surroundings. She realised this was the first time she was allowed in this prestigious room. She couldn't but throw a quick glance around the white interior of the vastness, the whirr of air conditioning unignorable.