The Unfolding

It took real effort to get out of my bed and attempt life. We had just flown in from Korea and I was running on three hours of sleep. There were a million things to do in order to return to normal life. We had spent over a year in Korea, which just lead us back to the UK. Just as I had thought. There was nothing for us in Korea. Perhaps when I was little it was my home, but after years of living in the UK, London was my real home. The wet and cold felt comfortable. I missed the constant clouds and rain.

It was my mother's boyfriend's idea to move to Korea. He had an idea for a business that my mother could finance after getting a pay-out from the job she had due to the company closing. He was like a child she had adopted. Feeding him and buying him things. In some ways he replaced me. Which meant I could spend more time in my bedroom.

I’d managed to crawl out of bed and make my way into Kings Cross. I needed a bank account, now that I was 20 years old, it was about time to get one and look for a job. I had a temp job in Korea, but it paid cash and I mostly worked with English speakers. My Korean hadn’t improved as much as my mother had hoped. So truly the trip was a waste.

Joon had insisted that I should also buy some groceries with my hard-earned money that I had left from my job in Korea, because my mother was now broke. He’d wasted her money on gambling and paying off the debts of his failed business. And of course, my mother's only comment was - ‘at least we tried’.

I headed for the first large building in my sight with the sign HSBC Bank. Any bank was still a bank and good enough for me. The less I had to walk the better.

The town was a swarm of busy people travelling, men in suits on their lunch breaks, homeless people lurking by the station and in the corners of alleys and buskers, mostly in the large square in front of the train station, trying their best to make a living. I could hear the drumming coming from the square as I entered the bank. Instantly, any sound from the outside had vanished and the only sound was a quiet murmur of the staff and customers inside. It was peaceful. Somehow, without even knowing it, that was all that I needed. I knew I was in the right place.

A woman in a red shirt approached me with a smile, enquiring how she could help me. She was polite and had an exceptionally soft voice, which made me intimidated. I never liked my voice, so I felt the pressure to match her softness. I explained that I wanted to open a bank account and before I could even finish, she was already guiding me to a secluded table with a glass divider to be private.

“Have you had a bank account before?” She asked sweetly. Propping up her iPad in front of her, before connecting it to a Bluetooth keyboard. She pulled her hair from her face and brushed it over her shoulders so it would be out of her way. I always envied people with light brown or blonde hair. I always wanted to get ombré blonde tips, but my mother would murder me if I did.

“No.” I replied with a smile, taking a seat in a cream velvet chair in front of her desk. My palms were sweaty, and I had hardly said two sentences to her. Anxiety wasn’t anything new to me, I just hadn’t felt any in the morning and had assumed I perhaps caught a small break.

“Our basic account is completely free and perfect for someone who has never had one before. Unless you’re an international student and would like a student account?” She began going through some basics.

“No, just a normal account is fine.” I agreed with a nod.

“Okay, great. I need some ID and proof of address.” Before she could even finish, I fished out the documents I had brought with me and handed her a sheer folder with my Passport and a letter from our current address. She smiled, taking the folder into her hands and picking out my passport first. She opened it up, looking at my picture and name, before lying it beside her and typing in my name onto her system. She looked back and forth between my passport and the iPad, her light, friendly expression slowly turning into a confused one.

“Sorry, let me try again, I must have misspelt your name.” She chuckled, but her eyebrows were still furrowed in the centre of her forehead in confusion. She picked up my passport looking at it closer to make sure she was typing it in correctly, but the iPad made the same short and quiet buzzing noise.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, confused why there was a problem.

“I’m so sorry, let me just get a colleague to see if they can help me. It’s likely just my iPad being weird. One second.” She quickly stormed off to find someone else to help her. I wanted to turn the iPad and check myself what the problem was, but I was too much of a coward. My anxiety was slowly rising as I waited several minutes for her to return.

She had plaques and commandments hung on the back wall as well as framed on her table. According to one of the framed commandments she had been working for the bank for over 10 years and her name was Dana.

“I am so sorry for the inconvenience Miss Choi; my colleague here will try and help me.” Her voice startled me as she began speaking having just approached me from behind. A man followed after her and took a seat in her place as she leaned over the table to show him what the problem was. His eyebrows suddenly jumped in what could only be surprised and confused, before he made eye contact with Dana for a split second. He typed something onto the iPad as he turned to me.

“We apologise for the inconvenience Miss. Could you please hang on for a second, while we go and replace this faulty iPad and we can go ahead and make an account for you.” He smiled brightly, taking Dana with him as they both took the iPad to be replaced.

It seemed this bank wasn’t as perfect as my first impression of it. I could hear murmur in the back, but my view was obstructed by the blurry glass. I sat back comfortably, wondering how long it would take to get a new iPad, considering they both had to go.

I fished my phone out of my bag and looked through my notes. I had no service and my next task on my list of things to do was to get a SIM card. Good call. The following things on my list-

o Buy a laptop.

o Buy groceries.

o Make a CV.

o Apply to jobs.

I had no idea what I wanted to do; I just knew that I needed a job. The sooner I got a job, the sooner I had my own money and could move out of my mother's house.

She wasn’t that bad. She was strict and critical, which is probably where my anxiety stems from. Making my mother proud was still a goal that was lingering somewhere in the back of my mind, despite knowing that there was nothing that I could do to satisfy her craving for me to be successful. I was already behind. A 20-year-old with no job and no prospect in life.

I stared at my phone aimlessly. The thought of doing all the other things on my list was exhausting. I was already sleepy. It didn’t help that the chair was super comfortable.

As I started to enjoy the silence and the peaceful 10 or 20 minutes that had gone by, my eyes were slowly getting heavier, it was a rude awakening when someone snatched my phone out of my hands and harshly grabbed me by my upper arm, pulling me out of the chair and to my feet.

A breath hitched in my throat as four police officers surrounded me. One of them yanked my arm behind my back, making me feel paralysed. He took my other arm, doing the same and holding me tightly as another officer took out his handcuffs. What the hell is going on?!

“Miss Choi, you are being arrested on suspicion of identity theft. Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law.” One of the officers said, his deep voice echoing through the entire building. The quiet, calm ambiance of the place was rudely shattered.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?!” I was stunned. My chest felt like it was being crushed by tons of weight as they guided me out of the building. I wasn’t sure I was even walking with an officer on each arm, dragging me away. My heart was trembling, and I could feel tears prickle at the corners of my eyes.

A heavy hand landed on my head as they opened the door to the car and pushed me to sit down inside. In front of me was a small, dog like gate, which would stop the criminals from reaching into the front seat and threaten the officers. I’m not a criminal. My vocal cords were suddenly paralysed and there was nothing I could say or even do but be whisked away into solitude.

I sat in a cold, four wall, box of a room with nothing but a table and two chairs, I began to wonder – what the fuck happened? It is literally my first day back. They said I was suspected of identity theft. It wasn’t completely impossible for somebody else to have the same name as me. But how strange that my name was flagged as a possible identity theft. How awful for the person whose identity really is being stolen.

The door opened and a large police officer walked in. He looked casual. He was wearing black trousers and a button up blue shirt with a belt that had a taser attached to it. How dangerous do I look?

“Please take a seat Miss Choi. I am detective Hussain. I will be in charge of your investigation.” He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the metal chairs, that scraped the floor when I moved it from under the table.

“You assume I stole this person's identity, yet you’re still calling me by their name?” I sat down, my hands were uncuffed, but there were still red marks on my wrists.

“Well, what is your real name? What should I call you?” He sat down on the other end of the table, placing his hands onto the table, tied with one another in a knot.

“My name is Sujung Min-Sun Choi. That is my real, full name. Given to me at birth. My mother's name is Sarah Wellington. She is English. I am half Korean, half English. She gave me the name, feel free to call her and ask. What the hell is going on?” As annoyed as I was, I still managed to hold onto my temper. He leaned back in his chair, his face looked unconvinced, but sympathetic. The fake sympathy that most men have inherited from their fathers. The superpower to pretend to care.

“I understand your frustration, we are looking into everything, but in the meantime, I need you to tell me more about what you have been up to for the last week and what lead you to come in to get a new back account.” He looked at me blankly, taking the notepad from the table and a pen, ready to note down any suspicious activity I had been up to.

“Fine. Last Tuesday I was in Seoul. I went to dinner with my mother, her boyfriend and some of our family friends because we knew we were leaving Korea and coming back to the UK.” The more I spoke the more irritated I was getting. I was stripped of everything I have, even my right to a window. I had to sit there and explain myself to some stranger that had no idea what he was doing, considering he had the wrong person in custody.

“And you have proof? Flight number or a boarding ticket?” He looked up at me from his notepad. I clenched my jaw, trying to control my fury before answering.

“I’m fairly certain it’s still in my bag, which you took or on my phone.” He nodded along, noting it down.

“And you flew back yesterday?”

“This morning. We landed at 4AM. Gatwick airport. We went straight home to sleep. I woke up got ready and came into town to get a bank card in order to apply for a job.” I rushed though the events that landed me in the chair I was in.

“Aren’t you exhausted after your flight?”

“Yes. I was. I am. And what? Opening a bank account is not challenging work. Besides we needed groceries. We’d been away for over a year and had nothing in the house. I really don’t understand. Does going to open a bank account on the first day I am back in the country incriminate me because I didn’t stay at home and rest from my long flights? There is literally not a thing I can or will say that will help you incriminate me in anyway because you have the wrong person and when you finally realise that you will look really stupid, sitting here with your head held high.” So much for not trying to lose it. I looked away, unable to contain my facial expression as well as my mouth evidently. My body was on fire from the anger that had accumulated inside me. My hands were still trembling because after all, they could do whatever they wanted. They were the law. So, if they decided I was guilty, they would make me look and feel guilty.

“Why don’t we take a small break. I will bring you some water.” He slapped his hands on his legs, before getting out of his chair and exiting the room.

Half hour of no water in sight later, he returned. I was still furious and mortified. I could have never imagined something like this happening to me. I had never been in trouble, certainly not with police and never planned to be.

“We would like to do a DNA test.” I felt my mouth fall open, staring at him blankly.

“Fine, whatever it takes to get the hell out of here.” I flayed my arms up frustrated.

“The results take 24 hours, you would have to stay in the station, as we do have legal right to keep you in here for 48 hours.”

“Are you kidding?” I chuckled in defeat. My eyes began to ache as tears began to prickle at the corners and suddenly run down my cheeks. There was nothing I could do but endure it and hope the DNA test would prove I was innocent.

“Fine.”

The test had commenced with some saliva and some hair, before I was moved into a smaller cell with a bench for a bed and a towel for a duvet. Only 23 hours and 34 minutes to go. I watched the clock on the wall tick away as I sat on the edge of the bench and wondered what I had done to deserve this.

I was a good person, a good daughter, a good stepdaughter, a good friend. I couldn’t recall ever causing anyone any harm, not physically anyway. I had no karma coming after me that I was aware of. Certainly not of this magnitude. My mother will kill me. She really will think that I had stolen someone’s identity and tried to scam someone. For the love of God, could this get worse?