Fragment #93 - Reflections

"For the last time, what was your father doing in Africa?"
I haven't slept for the last forty-eight hours. Neither have I drunk nor eaten. The fine gentleman who has been asking that question, is new on the list. It's nice to have new faces once in a while.
Oh, what am I talking about? I'm a hostage, getting beaten up everyday, and all I find interesting is that the guy who is being brutal with me today is new? Wake up to the real world, Charlie!!!
I raise my head and look up. It's still the same old room, and I am still on the same old chair. Jesus, Daddy, Steve, whoever, for God's sake: GET ME OUT OF HERE!
I start crying. The bear in front of me giggles and bangs on the door. I suppose he thinks I'm ready to talk and wants to tell Veronique or Rozia... Well, at least, it gives me a moment of peace. I know it won't last though. I let myself cry for a couple of minutes and then stand up straight. I can already hear them coming. Only footsteps. Only that, and I know that they are not in a very good mood. I think I'm getting them extremely tired of me. Well, they should have chosen somebody else for their little business.
Maybe somebody who would endure less. Or who would speak more. Or just who would know more. Because I've thinking: what the hell am I suppose to know about Dad's activities? How could they expect me to know anything about what my dad as doing before I was born? Unless somebody they know had heard our conversation in the hotel room. But who? The only other person there was Steve, and I refuse to even think of him as an enemy.
Who could that be? Who sold me?