West Point Detention Center.
Cordy went through the standard paperwork to visit Kyle Jessop.
She didn’t have the slightest bit of sympathy for him, but she was convinced he should understand a great many things by now.
Especially the fact that while Cordy would never hurt others, she wouldn’t allow herself to be taken advantage of.
If she was harmed, then she would take an eye for an eye.
It was just after 24 hours in custody, but Kyle looked far more haggard than Cordy expected.
He had always been attentive towards his personal appearance. In fact, the reason she was drawn to him in the first place while they were abroad was because he would always wear clean, white collared shirts or t-shirts. Together with his innocent, youthful smile, he would always project the image of a fresh and easygoing person.
Yet now, all that remains of that charming youth was gloom and filth.
But with all sentiment she once held towards him gone up in smoke, Cordy would remain apathetic no matter how pitiful he had become.
"What are you doing here?!" Kyle snarled, the anger in his voice barely repressed.
The last twenty-four hours have been terrible. His vanity now carried a hint of stubbornness, as if he refused to look so humiliating before Cordy, let alone be mocked.
"To see how pathetic you are," Cordy said bluntly—she was not about to be soft just because he ended up in such a sorry state.
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