No Such Thing

Mikalohv

When she first called his name for role call, she swore she had never seen something both so frightening and so beautiful at once.

He stood before me like some magnificent creature, dipping his chin so that he could actually catch sight of her. He was outrageously tall; at least 7 feet all from her view. He had to be in his late twenties, early thirties at the most. His figure was thin and frail, though. Obviously unkempt. He hadn't been eating, you could tell instantly by his pale gaunt face. His dirty blond mess of hair was greasy and out of place, and his dark eyes pushed violet bags beneath them. Lips were chapped and bled in spots, probably biting them the entire trip here. He looked like a mess.

Like he belonged here.

He took little time in changing to his robes. He held his earlier outfit one hand and a chipped cherry wood cane in the other. With a broken smile, he handed her the tattered lump of clothes, bowing suddenly. His file said he spoke little to no English and needed a translator at most times. A Russian one.

"Mika...loaf?" She struggled to pronounce his name, so she decided to go with his last. It was of little help.

"Mikalovh," He said softly. "Last."

She waved a hand in agreement, "I know I know, sorry, your first is a little-"

He nodded with her. He held a finger above his lips, then began to slowly stretch the corners of his mouth to pronounce the name. "Yeri...Mi...ya."

"But there is an 'L' in your name?"

He hardly understood any of her sentences, but was well aware of that, and yet she continued to speak to him.

"Is it silent?"

"Yes."

"May I call you Mikalov instead?"

"Yes."

She doubted he knew what she was saying to him, that he was most likely saying the few phrases he remembered in English. 'Yes' was probably one of the handful. She asked him how many words he knew in her language.

He paused to look at his hands, then held up seven fingers. It was even less than she thought. "What are they?"

Still no response. He stood there, unsure and breathless, trembling digits falling to his sides.

"Can you tell me all the words you know in English?"

He lit up and nodded vigorously. He understood this time. He rose his seven fingers once more and pulled one off as he began to count, "Hungry...Car. Girl. Run. Okay. Yes. No." He looked up at ceiling tiles for more, but drew a blank as he shrugged his shoulders.

"That's a very random set of words. Do you know what they all mean?"

He nodded. "Yes."

She decided to test him. Honesty was one thing anywhere else, but here it opened a person completely. Made them vulnerable. Weak. Easy to command. All in which were not her intentions. "What does hungry mean?"

The Russian patted his stomach. There was no use in telling her in Russia, so a visual was his best bet at this point. He rubbed his hand in circular motions, then pointed an index finger into an open mouth. She smiled at his creativity and nodded while she scribbled mindlessly on her clipboard.

"Car."

He shifted from his rubbing motions to clenching his hands and moving them vertically. A steering wheel. He pounded against the imaginary wheel for effect and made honking noises of his own. She held in a few giggles before nodding her head once more, “Okay, okay, check. I don't think I need to test the rest of your tiny vocab, you've got it, Mika.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay if I call you Mika, too?”

“Yes. Okay.”

“You can call me Ms. Janet, okay?”

He had been looking down at her the entire time they spoke. She wondered if he was in any pain at all, considering that long craned neck of his. Her tiny 5'3 stature did not help at all in this interrogation. She held out her hand in a form of greeting, hoping he would accept it. Instead, he stood there, blank as day. “Go on, shake my hand.”

“No.”

She was taken aback by his response, but nonetheless managed to smile. “Well you don't have to be rude about it, Mika, I was just-”

Abruptly cut off by his enormous embrace, Janet took a minute to compose herself. He had lifted her inches above the ground and nearly crushed her against him. Despite his fragile state, he was still impressively strong. The ward have thrown a fit, no doubt, but she figured a minute like this happened only once. She didn't return it, but she patted his back with high hopes of release. It seemed to work; languidly he let her slide down his chest until his grip was no more.

“That's...new.”

“Yes.”

“I need to put you in ELD classes stat, don't I?”

“Yes.”

This man may have been a broken record, but she had put up with much worse than just a few repeated phrases. She looked over his files and roamed over the transfer papers.

MIKALOHV, LEREMIJA

SEX: M

AGE: 23

ETHNICITY: RUSSIAN – Translator available.

Facts she had already known and guessed continued further down the page, until she reached the end where it listed his offenses.

CAUSE OF TRANSFER:

Mikalohv was found by police officers attempting to rape his own sister in his home in Portland, Oregon. A neighbor called 911 immediately when she heard loud screaming from the household. Neighbors and outsiders admitted to suspicions of statutory rape before the incident. Beja, the confirmed minor, is currently staying with her parents and refuses to discuss anything related towards the event. Mikalohv has history of other psychiatric problems, and Mr. and Mrs. Mikalohv have agreed to institutionalize their son for the given time. All charges against him will be dropped if he has completed a dutiful suspension.

Janet had suspected him of something much different. Her first guess was that he had been a cutter, maybe a masochist. The case wasn't particularity new, no, but there were only two other cases with incest as a transfer cause. Neither were confirmed sexual. It wasn't discomfort or disgust she was feeling at that moment, but curiosity. She hadn't any idea why. The clipboard seemed to slip slightly as she pictured it, the very child she had yet to even see moaning in agony, and she was to busy in awe to be in anyway repulsed.

Tearing from her thoughts she made a mental note to attend church later. There was no point in hiding that now. Images like that should be forgotten, and people who saw them should be punished. She wanted to ask about the cane, if he was in any pain, was he hungry. Then she wanted to ask why, if she was all he had, if he was confused but God knows he wouldn't answer the last three, since he could barley respond to the first. Her lips parted for a second as she drew one deep breath.

“I'll show you to your room.”