The woman's sobs broke the silence like something dissonant, almost offensive, in that corridor now dominated by authority and fear. She held her son's body against her chest, rocking slightly, as if the movement could undo what was already irreversible. Her face was contorted, not only by pain, but by a furious disbelief, an absolute inability to accept the reality that was imposing itself before her.
"How dare you?!" she screamed, raising her tear-stained face to Hella, her voice faltering between sobs and hatred. "How dare you do this to my son?! Who do you think you are?!"
The words echoed through the corridor, but found no immediate answer. Hella only observed her for a moment, in silence. There was no pity in her gaze. No anger. Only a surgical coldness, the same expression a general would have when assessing a broken piece on the chessboard.
Then she moved.
