Sin sat like a man, her hands cuffed together. Black and red hair obscured half of her face, patterned in swimming diamonds, and so only half of her face smiled. On the visible side, an inked snake unhinged its jaw, as if to swallow her left eye, while the rest of the serpent’s body disappear into the brush created by the stubble on the shaved part of her head.
Two men, identical in blue suits, regarded her with stern disapproval. She was an aberration, a danger to the society that they served blindly, if faithfully.
Folding his hands on the desk, the man on the left said, “Allison, you’ve been found guilty of possession. Is there anything you want to say in your defense?”
Sin shook her head in slow, purposeful motions like she was listening to music only she could hear.
The other man took out a plastic bag that held the object of her offense-a book. “If you tell us where you got this, we might be able to reduce your sentence.”
Her eyes narrowed, but silence was her defiance—and she proclaimed it loud.