But he was not that Sinopiquiar.
He was wearing a crumpled prison uniform, his hair was a mess, his face bruised, and his left eye swollen down to a slit. He was propped up by two people, his legs too weak to stand, his entire being like a pile of mud.
Alarcon was stunned.
"Sinopiquiar..."
Sinopiquiar raised his head and looked at him.
The light in those eyes was gone.
"Mr. President..." His voice was hoarse like sandpaper, "I... I've confessed to everything..."
Alarcon looked at him, unsure of what to say.
The people holding Sinopiquiar dragged him to a chair, pressing him down to sit.
Then they left, closing the door.
The room was left with only Alarcon and Sinopiquiar.
Silence.
A long, long silence.
Then Alarcon spoke, his voice very soft:
"Why did you run?"
Sinopiquiar kept his head down, not speaking.
"You killed so many people and then ran away."
Alarcon's voice started to tremble.
