DEVAN.The morning began in a silence that didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the usual hum of the prison, the clang of metal gates, the curses echoing down the halls, the dull murmur of men who had stopped believing in tomorrow. This was something else — stillness that pressed against the walls, heavy and expectant, as though the building itself was holding its breath.I woke before the guards made their rounds, sitting on the edge of my bed, my elbows on my knees, staring at the narrow band of light that seeped in through the barred window. The air smelled of bleach and rust. It was another day and another countdown to my trial.My cellmate, a thin man with a scar carved down his left cheek, spoke without looking at him. “You know it’s all decided, right?” His voice was low, almost a whisper.I turned, frowning. “What are you talking about?”“The trial,” the man said, eyes fixed on the wall. “It’s a show, always is. Verdict’s been chosen before you even walk in.”I wanted to argue, but th
ปรับปรุงล่าสุด : 2025-10-25 อ่านเพิ่มเติม