Before five, the nightmare repeated and she rose, grateful the morning was finally here.

In the tro-tro, Emma felt detached and outside herself. Her hearing seemed muffled, as if her cranium was full of cotton balls—dull and muted. The passenger beside her had to nudge her to make her aware that the mate was holding out his hand for the fare. She alighted on Ring Road East and crossed to the CID building. She didn’t want to look up at the seventh floor. As she went up the steps to the second, she was gripped with apprehension that Commissioner Andoh might be behind her or coming down in the opposite direction.

When Emma got to her unit, she avoided making eye contact with her coworkers, muttering good morning in a subdued tone quite unlike her. She could feel the curious glances, the double takes, and quite irrationally she felt as though her coworkers might be able to tell that she had been violated. Maybe somehow the whole of CID knew? Tears welled up and she felt humiliation engulf her. She wished she could stay in hiding at home but calling in sick wasn’t an option at the GPS—unless you had an iron-clad doctor’s note to back you up.

Inspector Kuma came in at 10:30 a.m. In her peripheral vision she watched to see if he was looking at her, but he didn’t seem to be. At 10:45 a.m., when he called her into his office and told her to shut the door and take a seat, Emma knew something bad was about to take place. She kept her eyes down, but she stole a glance at Kuma to find him looking at her with distaste. He knows, she thought.

“I did everything I could to help you,” Kuma said, “and then you turn around and speak badly of me and DCOP Laryea to Commissioner Andoh.”

Emma was bewildered. “But please, I didn’t say anything against you. Or the DCOP.”

“You are a liar,” Kuma said, curling his lip. “I don’t like liars. What a disgrace. We don’t tolerate the likes of you in my department. The DCOP wants to see you in his office right now. He will speak to you, and then as of today, you will no longer be working at CID. Whatever personal belongings you have here, take them with you and get out.”

Emma left the inspector’s office trying to hold back her tears, but everyone in the unit could tell she was crying. The room was quiet as a church and all eyes followed her first to her desk where she retrieved her backpack, and then to the door as she left with a crushing feeling of shame.

It seemed a long trek to DCOP Laryea’s office. She knocked and entered at his command. When he saw her tearstained face and puffy eyes, he looked alarmed.

“Sit down, Djan,” he said, rising from his chair.

Emma did so and began immediately to weep, her face buried in her palms. Laryea pulled his chair around from behind the desk and sat down about a meter away from her, waiting quietly until she was able to reign in her emotions somewhat.