SixTwo guards put her into a holding cell. She went freely, allowing them to frog-march down the narrow, brightly lit corridor, and when they slammed the door shut she sat on the bed, hands clasped, staring and not saying anything.
“She's clearly gone through this more than once,” said Marilyn, applying some antiseptic cream to the scratches on her face. Tears noted her hand was shaking.
“Are you sure you're all right?”
She smiled. “I've had worse. To be honest,” she stared at the piece of gauze with which she patted the wounds on her cheek, “I don't think I've ever come across such controlled aggression. It was almost as if she were trained to respond that way.”
Tears shrugged, the memory of her strike to his groin bringing water to his eyes and he gave an involuntary wince. “I know o
