Shannon desperately tried to contain her shock and outrage. She didn’t have time for her whirlwind of emotions right now since her time for farewells was growing shorter by the minute. Sorting out this injustice would come later and almost certainly while she was with her pen.
“Mom…please…if you can, open your eyes. It’s not at all bright in here. I think you’ll like the picture I drew for you and Dad.” The girl looked back to her father for reassurance.
As she noted earlier, he was relatively unharmed. This fact unnerved Shannon and offered her more insight into the system of laws and morals of the society she was stuck in. Her father, Dakin, an officer in the army defense on the rim, had seriously injured three guards almost killing them with efficient ease. Yet he was minimally physically punished, if at all. Her mother, Sasha, healed her father, saving his life when the medics could not. Here she is with her tongue cut out and whipped until her flesh was raw. The toll extracted from each seemed to be upside down. There was fear of her mothers gift. It had to be more than the excuse of it, “leading to bad things” as Criss had said…much more.