The next body part that held information was his hands. I quite liked his hands, they fit mine very well. David put his hands in mine so I could look at them.
He had nice hands. Slim and long fingers. They seemed very soft but when you turned them around you were awaited by something very different. His palms were the complete opposite.
When I looked at the insides of his hands I saw the blisters that were from running away from the police and life. The scars on his wrists were from his days in prison, when he started to regret the things he had done and wanted to punish himself.
He wouldn't cut himself, instead he scratched his wrists along the wall of his cell until they started bleeding.
It didn't give him any peace or satisfaction, it was rather something that he felt like he needed to do in order to punish himself, so he could feel a part of the pain his victims had felt. David also worked out a lot. Not because he wanted to look better or get stronger but to keep his mind off of the things that were happening around him. The daily prison life was not something you would want to get into to deep.
His fingertips were of a slight yellow colour. It was from the nicotine of the cigarettes he smoked. They were countless attempts of him to calm down. He tried his first one when he was fifteen years old. A friend of his encouraged him to do so. He never wanted to be a smoker but then he tried another one and another one and before he could count to three they became an addiction. He soon developed a very raspy voice, which was a common sign of too much smoking and made him sound older than he actually was. He would use it to sneak into clubs and bars at an early age. In addition to that he also looked about at least two years older than he was.
"Your hands are cold", David said.
"So are yours", I said.
Conclusion: The blisters were from running away from the police and his yellow fingertips were from the excessive smoking.
Next: His hair.
