Violet’s stomach dropped out of her body. Her face, at first so determined and desperate, fell with it. Slowly, she refocused on the condemned man. Where once she saw a child in need of pity, now became a wriggling, slobbering mess too disgusting to touch. Her eyes fixated on his sniveling vestige, Violet spoke again. “Are you sure?” It was no stronger than a whisper.
Mei crouched by the fellow, taking her gun away for now. She gripped his hair and yanked up his head, exposing his raw, ugly crying to the sunlight. “Do you deny this?” she hissed. Her grip tightened on his scalp. “Any of it?” Snot dribbling down his chin, he shook his head “no.” Mei dropped it and stood tall. “Violet. Go back to Rory. Now.”
Violet didn’t answer right away. She lingered, shifting from one foot to the next,
