Purple and blue, they cover his skin in splotchy, broken patches. Hands that seem old and withered for someone so young. He should not feel this deep piercing in his lungs. He should not have to cower behind the door, hiding his face, his eyes constantly falling to the floor in the man’s presence.

Tall, dark, a ferocity and evil in the man’s eyes that he didn’t recognise or conceive of, but knew all too well because he’s had to live with it all his life. Breath that smelled of smoke and alcohol.

His innocence was lost at such a young age. Every time he closed his eyes, he could only see that one picture - burned into his mind like hot iron. Every time he closed his eyes, he relived that horrible, atrocious moment. That single act of monstrosity that now lurked inside his every glance.