Tyler sits there strapped to the metal chair facing the professor. Her dark brown orbs are lifeless, her dark blue hair hung there volume less, and her used to be tan skin has bruised with blacks, purples, blues, and yellows. Across from her sat the professor, a rather old man with greyish black hair all greased up, and angered black orbs watching and calculating Tyler's every move, and pale skin with life long years worth of scars. The professor leans forward angered by her lack of answers, hands fisted ready to add another collection of bruises to her body. He finally calms down and asks the question once more in a calmed voice yet hinted with anger.
