Melanie Mitrevski
The sunken, tortured eyes were haunting, their inky depths wild with a madness that could only come from a person who had been abused, violated, soul mutilated by the horrors that were faced every day.
The sallow, wrinkled skin was waxy distorted horrifically by starvation and lack of sunlight, the sunken cheekbones protruding so far that they threatened to break the papery barrier.
The nose was crooked, large, disproportionate to the rest of the gaunt, pallid visage, the only thing seemingly untouched by the terrors the man had faced.
One could tell, at a glance towards the disoriented twist on the dry, cracked lips, that it had been a while since happy days were seen. The deep frown lines a permanent fixture, dark against the matted complexion.
The wispy hair, white as snow, with balding patches here and there made it hard to believe that the man was but 25 years old, the constant torture he had faced aging him before his time, bringing a premature death steadily closer.
And by the growing harshness and depth of the frightening pale scars on the jagged pink cuts on his feeble arms, it was not to be too long before him untimely demise would arrive.
The sunken, tortured eyes were haunting, their inky depths wild with a madness that could only come from a person who had been abused, violated, soul mutilated by the horrors that were faced every day.
The sallow, wrinkled skin was waxy distorted horrifically by starvation and lack of sunlight, the sunken cheekbones protruding so far that they threatened to break the papery barrier.
The nose was crooked, large, disproportionate to the rest of the gaunt, pallid visage, the only thing seemingly untouched by the terrors the man had faced.
One could tell, at a glance towards the disoriented twist on the dry, cracked lips, that it had been a while since happy days were seen. The deep frown lines a permanent fixture, dark against the matted complexion.
The wispy hair, white as snow, with balding patches here and there made it hard to believe that the man was but 25 years old, the constant torture he had faced aging him before his time, bringing a premature death steadily closer.
And by the growing harshness and depth of the frightening pale scars on the jagged pink cuts on his feeble arms, it was not to be too long before him untimely demise would arrive.
